It’s impossible; they can’t know who I was.
My father had sat me down when we were children and explained about reincarnation. He’d said one thing that stuck with me. It doesn’t matter how bad you were in a past life; you live in this life. Be good to the world, and the world will be good to you.
I have done my best, but the toxin that is the Warden is seeping through, and the whole time I feel like something, someone, is missing.
I slip out of the house and into the dawn before anyone can wake and ask me a million questions about why I’m awake and don’t look like I’ve slept. The shadows stretch long in front of me, and the chill in the air only helps to lock me in my head. When I look down, I see black armour and a massive sword that shimmers red with blood.
Screams and pleas explode into my mind.
“Not my memories,” I whisper angrily. “They aren’t mine.”
A massive black warhorse with a mane like a banner looms up in front of me, its neigh calling into the dawn, calling me. It rears up and then smashes its front legs down, making the earth shake. I approach it slowly, warily, but as I get closer, it vanishes into thin air. Another ghost of my imagination.
Another nightmare regret to my heart.
I wish we were home.
I rub a hand over my face and pull my jacket tighter around me.
There’s a trail made by game and some humans, and I follow the path, letting it lead me to places unknown. There’s a plain in front of me with long grasses and a massive rock that juts out into the sky.
When I look at that rock, something stabs at me. Recognition? Fear? I don’t know, and I don’t want to recall what it was. When I look up, I think I see a black wolf staring down at me, but when I blink, there’s nothing there. I shiver and back away, unwilling to disturb the past.
The old cities were abandoned after the war. Most people needed to start again, needing places to live that weren’t soaked in blood, and this ruin is no exception. The half-buried remains only vaguely show the world that was. There is something about this place, something that has me wanting to run and get far away from here.
My skin pebbles, and I step backwards, only to stop dead, sure I’m having another waking dream.
He moves past me like a ghost. He’s wearing a loose white shirt and tight pants, but his black hair hangs down to his mid-back, it floats in the wind, I can’t decide if he’s real or not.
“So beautiful,” I whisper.
He makes the noise in my head go silent.
I turn, keeping him in sight. When I realise he’s going to disappear, I follow, unable to stay away, unwilling to lose him.
“Wait!” I cry out before I can stop myself.
He hears me and turns, his eyes deep, dark, and curious, but when he sees me, he stops, his mouth drops open, and I feel this sense of destiny. His eyes are green. I know those eyes.
“Wait, please,” I whisper and stop because something slams into my chest. This agony, this grief that encompasses all of me.
I don’t know anything, just the horrible feeling of loss and longing and that I know him yet I’ve never met him.
That I would die if I lost him.
He steps towards me, and I mirror him, getting closer and closer until we’re almost touching. It shouldn’t be so easy; this is a stranger, but I can’t convince my heart of it.
He inhales shakily. I take in his fine, almost beautiful features, the long lashes, the plumpness of his lower lip.
“Hi,” his voice is full of curiosity and relief.
Does he know me?
“Hi,” I say back because I can’t think of anything else to say.
“I’m Lucian.”
“Walker.”
