8TH

The cold embrace of the waters persists to suffocate me as I continue to sink further to its bottomless depths, while the current carries me along. All I can do is let myself drift constantly, be swallowed into oblivion. My eyes are shut, greeting death like an old friend despite that this is only the first and last time. As everything gets darker, a flash of light fades into the center of my peripheral. Perhaps it's death himself, about to greet me and take me to the place I belong… Or maybe I'm wrong as I instead see the silhouette figure of a man, swimming his way down to me. And he's fast — so fast that the eagerness in his every movement to reach me is prominent. The desperation in each crawl of his limbs… the need…

My mind demands me to move, and reach as well. Yet I seem to just sink faster, drift further away as if my body has given up and denies salvation, surrendering to let go of life. Eventually, my eyes give up, shutting close and embracing oblivion.

This is it… Right…?

I can feel death's arms slither around my back, yet somehow, it feels warm instead. I thought it'd be colder than the lands in the North and South, but no. It was whole, embracing... and real that it made all my senses come back to focus only on it.

Not for long, I jolt awake to my side, puking and coughing distasteful fluids out of my throat, some even bursting through my nose. Just that, and I feel like I've already expended all of my energy I suddenly fall weak and lightheaded. And before I even fall back, I, once again, feel the same warm arms around me. I try my best to make out through my shaky and unfocused vision of mine, but the only clear thing I can see in the face of the man who salvaged me is having the most silvery blue colored eyes that I've ever seen — bluer than the seven oceans. His wet, dark hair traces droplets of water dripping from his guise down to the hair tips of his fair layer of hair under his jaw.

His pinkish-red lips open, babbling words that turn out all too muffled to be heard by my auditory, and darkness begins emerging from the corners of my field of vision once again, and the last of my breath leaves my lips. If this is the paradise of the afterlife, then I'm glad to finally rest.

I'm home again. It's been a while. I can't remember how long I've traveled to get home, but that doesn't matter. I'm here and I'm seeing my mother again after a long time. Unlike my previous visits, I somehow don't feel exhausted. It's a good thing, then. I can spend more time with her. Do housework, help at the farms, do some training, talk to her about the things I've come along so far in the last months in the Barrier, and maybe finally convince her to move to the urban life in Otima. I can hardly wait.

Firmly holding the strap of my luggage around my arm, I saunter down the dried path of soil surrounded by nothing but the rich and fertile grass field, green as ever while they seem to bloom with lively flowers whilst the soothing winds sigh pass by the plantation of trees from the distances. The day nears its end to the evening, and heavy clouds are approaching from the distance and signing that there'll be a heavy downpour tonight. Ahead are the edifices of my only home village, already reminding me of the tropical nostalgia of my life as a kid here.

Upon closing yards away from the village entrance, I frown as I'm greeted with nothing but the ghost of eerie silence. I don't see any single soul around — no young children playing, no farmworkers finishing their barn and crop works, no animals even in their designated stalls as I happen to pass by one, no nothing. Where is everybody?

After a few turns around houses, I finally arrive upon mine, walled with cobblestone slabs with a ceiling of chopped tree logs and secured with a simple oak door. The windows are closed, but they don't completely obscure the whines of an infant. A child in my own home…

After a quick look from behind, I silently stomp upon the low wooden steps to the door and it creaks tauntingly, daring me not to continue. But, it's already too late to realize that as I give a gentle push to reveal the crowded living room. The child cries to grow louder, and I hear it coming from my mother's bedroom that's just adjacent to the tiny kitchen. I tread to its door carefully, with no other thoughts in mind but sheer curiosity. My hand reaches for the knob and slowly twists it open, not minding the creaking sound because the child's cries are louder.

Then, I'm looking at a familiar-looking maiden in her youthful age and beautiful semblance. She's in the midst of a rush on her tiptoes towards a wooden crib on the other side of the room where the persisting cries of the infant seem to originate. She then reaches for the infant, lifts them in her embracing arms, and begins a melodic coo from her lips to soothe their unsuccessful slumber. I notice conflict written over her face, clearly caused by the situation of the entire place. And it's not just that, I sense there's something more, with the tears that threaten to leave her eyes.

Does she even see me? I think. I'm a few feet from her as I stand in the doorway, and she's facing me. I part my lips to utter a greeting, but I'm merely cut off by another man's voice. I flinch when I suddenly see a tall man walk past me as if he simply walked through a ghost. I pat my chest in bafflement and surprise. When I snap my gaze back, everything is black again.

I slowly squint my eyes open to see nothing but scattered, distorted glowing orbs over the dark, dark blue space within my sight, as if they're refracted by water. A few more blinks and the small white pillars standing aligned over a wooden concrete come clear, as the fire calmly dancing on each slowly thaws their solidity into fluids. Candles. I focus on the warm lights, never realizing that I am, after all, awake after what I feel like a long sleep.

Slowly tilting my head, I happen to gaze upon everything in my surroundings and all I can see are the dark wooden walls, the galvanized metal ceiling, and even the open door and window. However, everything is not yet utterly processed. I am awake, yet not conscious.

Moments more pass, and I finally retrieve much more of my senses. Feeling my right eye twitching much says it. I sit up, which I instantly regret as I feel a powerful strike of pain upon my upper abdomen and some around my limbs, making me yelp a rasp at the top of my lungs. I trail my gaze down and find myself wearing nothing but my soldier pants. However, a thick fabric is wrapped around my whole waist and more around my limbs. Carefully, I slide a finger in between the seams of the one around my stomach and fold it outward to see nothing but wide light-dark marks on my skin. What happened? I try recalling some memories, only to fail with a painful migraine. I guess the only way, for now, is to let my body return to its proper functioning.

I extricate my feet from the bed, letting them make contact with the cold and rigid wooden floor. To my side, I find my combat boots just right next to the bed's head, yet I don't reach them for now. My feet require stretching. I attempt to put myself up to my feet, despite my legs complaining. Now, I have a better visual to examine the place I'm in, and I can certainly say that I'm in a hut. But, exactly, where?

I stumble limply as I make my way toward the window, where I can only see small orbs flickering in the dark space as if they're refracting. I probably need more time to wake up my visual senses. But the gusts are clear through my auditory as it twines through the trees, along with the evening owls trilling their songs, and the familiar crackling noise of a bonfire. It sounds peaceful. But, it doesn't answer where I am.

Squinting a few times, I get to make my vision start to provide clarity. Down below, I see the blazing bonfire, searing a large chunk of unknown meat speared with sticks, and a set of other small equipment that tend to be for cooking next to it. Set around are chopped tree barks, in which one has a constantly smoking pot sitting on it. And I believe I see clothes, which clearly aren't mine, spread wide upon the grass. The rest of the environment is just but the greenery of trees flanked by a few cascading mountains surrounding this open area of sparse grass.

I slowly make my way towards the open exit, stumbling limp as I'm curious to know whoever resides in this place. A wooden staircase that seems to have been aged by time stands in between me and the grassy soil — the small glowing shrooms in between the cracks can tell. I carefully descend the steps, the barely full moon's light from the cloudless sky kissing my skin, as well as the night breeze. My skin responds appreciatively to the generous effect of it, a gentle chill crawling over my partially bandaged shoulders.

Once my feet are on the open grass field, I scan the area hoping to find the kind people responsible for the aiding bandages. Could be Outcasts or native settlers but I only find nothing else besides my recognizable Front Soldier suit and tank top, neatly hanging over by the branch of a full-grown tree that seems to have naturally grown from the underside of the older-looking hut.

Out of the blue, the wind strengthens which has my dark locks billow, some grazing over the back of my neck. Then I'm hit with screaming memories of everything that happened. Those four Ordinals. The Soldiers. The attack. All of it. I was barely alive. My eyes tremble, my hands slithering their way through the long tendrils of my dark hair as I parse the recurring thoughts. I wish it was all a dream, but with these bandages all over me and the place that surrounds me, I'm only making a fool of myself. I'm suddenly weak, my muscles sore as if I got beaten, and my head hollow-light, making me unsteady and fall on my knees.

I hear quick footsteps closing in, either a nocturnal predator that is taking the opportunity to capture its prey or a person. It turns out to be the latter when I feel warm hands grab my shoulders. There, my body almost surrenders as I fall into the person's arms, then it carries me like a new spouse until my back feels the rigid texture of grass through a soft fabric, feeling their pointy ends poking through it.

"Your body's still recovering," The baritone voice of a man reaches my ears, coming from my flank. Through my still-shut lids, his own shadow burns over me by the crackling fire. "Don't force it."

That's when I flutter my eyes open, first meeting the bedazzling stars in the night sky. I can say my muscles have chosen to calm themselves now, though not strong enough to have me moving as actively as earlier. From here my nose can obtain the unfamiliar scent of tea, and my stomach submits with a sudden silent churn.

I turn my head a little to see the stranger, a brown cup of polished coconut shell in one hand as he's pouring some of the steaming liquid into it from the pot. I then see him grab some content from one of the settled jars near him and crush it in his hand before adding it to the cup. As he does those things at the moment, I take the time to take in his features. Bright skin, long dark hair with those on the crown of his head tied behind his head into a bun, and a stubble beard that fails to hide his age, looking like he is just a few years older than I am. Down his clothing is nothing but a rusty shirt tucked in his cotton pants, but through it, his built frame is prominent. That semblance then reminds me of the same mark it left in my mind the first time I witnessed him. He… saved me. I fell from the citadel and got washed away. I was drowning and he saved me.

I weakly prop myself to a proper sitting, enduring the still lingering pain over my muscles, as he slowly hovers the liquid-filled cup close to my lips. I reach my stable hand to receive it, but he instead just hovers it closer, demanding for me to just drink it straight from his grasp. I look at the steaming reddish-brown liquid swirling with blue glittering particles that must be the crushed ingredient. Pretty ominous for a tea…

Without further ado, I simply lean forward, press my lips against the tip of the cup, and slowly sip the still-warm liquid. As the first few drops make contact with my tongue, I abruptly push a hand against his to drink faster. Oh, hell, I was thirsty. Some of it even spills down the sides of my mouth. It tastes like ordinary tea but I feel it soothe away some of the dryness of my throat, and surprisingly, even the remaining aches all over certain points in my body subside a little.

I pull away and quickly wipe my mouth with the same hand while I keep my gaze on his unreadable expression.

"What… tea is this?" I ask, still a little raspy.

"It's soup," He mutters with a tint of contempt as he turns his back to me. It honestly tastes like tea though… Or maybe that's just the first. There aren't any of these at the Barrier.

"W— Where am I?" I ask, voice sounding much clearer, and I observe no burnt tattoo of an Outcast on his nape or anywhere else on his exposed skin. He must be either a rogue humanoid or, simply, a stranger out here.

He doesn't answer, probably still upset with the impression I gave of his soup. I only hear him chopping meat off. The savory smell of it reaches my nose, and my stomach responds again, this time with a louder churning grumble. The man's head perks a little in response. This brings a tint of shame. In an attempt to avoid it, I repeat the question.

"Where am I…?" I sit up to a better position.

He turns to face me, another big bowl in hand and I see it already filled with minced chunks of the smoking cooked meat.

"Eat up," He says, leaving my question hanging by a thread.

"You didn't answer my question," I say, while my mind, on its own, dwells on the memories once more.

"You'll get your answer once you put something in your gut," He says, nonchalantly, simply placing the filled bowl in front of me. That gave me a stubborn impression. But who am I to complain? This stranger saved my life.

"Can you at least tell me your name?" I say, insistently as he's to stand up back to his long legs and only continues to walk. To calculate, I stand below up to just below his ears. "Or tell me how long I was out?"

He departs to the scattered chopped barks he must've dropped earlier upon encountering me. Come to think of it, it's now awkward that he had to carry me like that. He might have even carried me the same way when he found me from whatever body of water I got washed by to this place. But, again, should I complain when there's more to worry about?

Raising my right palm, I see my fingers trembling so visibly caused by my unpleasant recallings. I merely sigh and return my focus to my stomach which is screaming its demands to be filled with sustenance. With that, I simply slither my thumb and my pointer to retrieve a warm chunk of meat and place it between my lips. I somehow taste some kind of savory sauce within the meat itself, and I can only think that it had been marinated for quite a while before getting cooked.

Grace then slips into my head. She won't even have me crossing her mind at the moment since she might be busy at the Barrier. Or even would Echidna and Mikael. Come to think of it, I can assume Alice is already awake, almost fully recovered. Now, just having the image of her again sends me the horrors of the moment that killed more than half of her comrades. And Alek… Ring… The ring! I jump up to my feet in panic, stumbling on the first few steps, and rush to the tree on the side of the hut where my Front Soldier suit is hung dry. I happen to ignore the sharp objects that I might step on just to get there sooner. Sweat trickles from the scalp of my head as I impatiently sneak my hands through every seam it'd find. Where the hell is it? I can't lose it! I can't just let the promise I made to Alek go to waste.

As I have searched every last seam my hands would get, I'm only left with frustration and more anxiety. Nothing. I fall sitting lifelessly, my trembling hands slithering their way through the curls of my frizzy, dry hair when my shoulders fall heavy and my muscles tense with elevated vigor. All I have now are the waves of despondent emotions washing over me, and adding more to all the weightful guilt I'm already enduring.

My brain denies Alek's face as I'm constantly reminded of Alice's. Either way, I have failed them both. My hands fall on their own, palms landing on my thighs, and the overwhelming emotions stop as my right palm feels a bump on my pants. The immediate contact is already enough to shift my emotions as I recognize it is not other than the ring. Of course, that's where I put it.

I sigh, releasing much of the sustained disorientation in my mind before I slither my hand into my pocket and feel the object in there. It is there. One more sigh, and for now, I let myself be complacent about it, especially since there is something bigger to think about. But where do I begin? I'm wanted dead by those who are supposed to protect people, just because of something I did not know I possessed the entire time?

Ordinal Three. He didn't even give me a chance to ponder about it, nor choose to help me understand more whatever lives in me. Instead, in an instant, considered me a threat. No, it was all just a play and he's long concluded that I'm a dangerous being. He even prepared for it with hundreds of soldiers already stalking in the chamber, along with two other Ordinals before I even arrived. He must know more but initially thought he didn't need to enlighten me anyway. And it seems off that he only stood there and watched me while the rest of them did the work. He could have finished me at any of those moments, himself. Was it because he was studying me…? Or is it because he was scared…?

And my father… I'm barely aware of his true identity, or rather, all of what my mother told me of him was a lie. I've been living for so long yet she never taught me more about his life. I hate that I'm even curious about this so-called power, and I can't help it. The only way for me to find out is to get back home.

I mentally order my legs to stand up as I keep hold of the ring in my pocket for a few more seconds before I decide to grab my tank top and grab my suit that has some cuts and pinholes. I turn to come upon the mysterious man's curious gaze on me as he's returned sitting on the same spot near the searing bonfire and silently chewing on something. At the time, I had already plotted the things I needed to do. I have to go home. Patiently, I approach his direction.

"How long was I out?" I ask.

He turns his head to give me a nonchalant look, noticing his eyes scan down and up in a quick second, kind of getting on my nerves with his constant chewing, then turns back as if I wasn't here at all. A passive mockery.

"Three days," He says and I immediately parse his answer for a moment, along with my brain persisting to linger around the memories. Three days…? It only felt like yesterday. A few days ago, It was my first time within the walls. Then all of a sudden, in the blink of an eye, everything changes. I lost my godfather through an incident that also awakened something in me. And, now, I'm here — washed into the presence of a stubborn stranger.

"I need to head back to Otima," I say urgently.

He gives a smug hum and says, "You want to go back when they wanted you dead?"

I give him a skeptical look at how he figured that.

"Yeah. I can still smell four Ordinals and a hundred soldiers on your skin." First, that gives me a hint that he's Wolf-Breed. Second, hence the fact that he found me drowning in a flowing river, what else could be the other reason? Only I didn't know they were capable of capturing the scent of things underwater. "You were half dead when I found you. What makes you think they'll welcome you again?"

I'm silent. As much as he has a point there, I still have to try. I can only get home with Kyla's help, but I won't drag her into this.

"And what's a Front Soldier from the Barrier doing in Otima, anyways?" He says as he puts down the now-empty bowl, only to have himself standing and facing me again. "Whoever you are, you must've done something very bad to them."

I try to keep myself collected and patient with much of what's happened so far. I have to. I'm a soldier. "I know you saved my life, but it doesn't necessarily mean that I owe an explanation." It would only draw another dangerous attention, or worse, have myself killed for real this time. "Tell me, at least, where's the way to the river you found me and you can keep this suit. You can sell it and get Pentanides with it." It may have some slits and pinholes now, but it's still valuable.

"Not a fan of suits," He says, sauntering to me. "Nor of Pentanides."

I sigh with exasperation. "Then what do you want?" My tone sounded sharp and desperate.

He stands mere feet from me, and I remain unbudged in my position as I don't want to lock suspiciously. "I'm sure that they had a valid reason for trying to get rid of you. You must've done something too vile for you to even let you live any longer, instead of putting you behind bars."

"Good guess. But, no," My gaze narrows at him questionably. "Yet, if that's your assumption, why did you pull me from the river anyway?"

"I only realized that the moment I did. No scars or scratches, no broken bones, but only bruises."

"And yet, you still kept me for three days and gave me some of your soup and a nice meat dish?"

He glares deeply, yet I still remain unbothered. "It's impossible to survive from three Ordinals and a hundred Citadel Vanguards and only get those," He says, slowly leaning with such intent that I had to avoid his piercing gaze.

I stick my gaze at him, dealing with how straightforward he is with his questions, and at the same time, lingering in my head seeking the words to answer because even I, myself, don't know. Finally, I have formed something. "It's none of your business." My tone has less contempt, and have accepted that he won't be much more of a help. What should I expect? He already kept me alive. "Don't worry, I'll find you again and pay you."

Just that, I leave the Front Soldier suit upon one of the tree barks with the sign that it is the payment to my debt that is beyond affording, but he doesn't seem to care about it after all, and that is beyond me too. His gaze stays on me as I embark on walking toward the trees without anything at my disposal but my godfather's ring.