MANY YEARS AGO
Three figures were sitting at the edge of a cliff on an island devoid of any other humans. A built man with half his face burned off, a young woman with blonde hair and a black ribbon, and a little boy with golden eyes and a crimson scarf far too large for him all sat on fallen logs, face deep in the cards in their hands.
Naren looked at his cards aggressively. He had no idea how to play this game, but was in the competitive spirit. It was his first time playing a game with others after all. Though, even with this new experience he still had a very pressing question at hand.
"How do I become a shaman?"
Alice moved three pebbles forward.
"Call, bitch."
Bjorn did the same without saying a word and Naren followed suit, mimicking Bjorn's exact movements.
"Aliiiiice, howw?"
"I'll tell ya if you win."
She aggressively placed her two cards face up for the other two to see.
"Yeah! That's a straight Bjorn! Looks like you gotta wait another game Naren!"
Bjorn looked at his cards then placed it down too. A flush.
Alice grabbed her head in exasperation. Already ready to whine.
"Aw come on! Why do you even bring these shitty cards!"
"Because both of you are awful."
Pulling the pebbles to his side, Bjorn glanced at Naren. His face was still buried in his cards trying to figure out what they meant. Eventually, Naren put them down as well.
Alice burst into laughter. Falling back.
"Hahaha, who's awful Bjorn?"
She pat Naren's head, roughing up his hair.
"Good job shrimpy."
"Come on, answer now Alice."
Alice gave one more aggressive scuffle before falling back onto her hands. Deep in thought.
"A shaman is what you call someone who makes a pact with a beast. When you make the pact, you'll get some kind of power, a fable, like you teleporting through reflections. In return, the beast will take something from you, a spite. In your case your remembrance. Though it seems those with conviction and closer to you can bypass it slightly."
Then she paused and smiled gloatingly as she pointed at herself.
"Or someone strong like me."
Naren fell back, looking at the sky.
"Yeah yeah, but I want to know how to be a shaman."
Alice flicked him on the forehead leaving a red bump that Naren immediately grabbed. Yelping in pain.
"I was getting to that. Don't rush me...Anyways, I remember when I became a shaman. I was twel—"
"Naren, all pacts with beasts have a third cause. The origin of magic — witches."
"Don't cut me off, you thug."
Alice grabbed Bjorn in a chokehold, but he continued to speak regardless.
"Your soul is in constant turmoil with the beast. In order to quell it you must find a witch, only they can affix your soul. They can turn you into a shaman."
"So I can just find my sister and have her do whatever?"
"She cursed you, so you'd have to find a different witch. But the longer you take the more at jeopardy you put your soul in.
Alice jutted in, overlooking Naren ominously with a creepy smile
"And if you take too long that sister of yours will gobble up your soul from the inside."
Then she made a firework motion with her hands.
"And a soulless body is a husk."
But none of those words had mattered to Naren. He was still hung up on one specific remark. As his eyes glimmered, he stared directly at Alice.
"Will I see her if I take too long?"
—————————————————————
"So you're an Aspirant?"
Naren looked at the man half-heartedly. The emblem of rose wrapped around a broken crown catching his interest.
"Whatchu want?"
The man glanced at Vera, who scrambled back, her hands already reaching for the loose piece of wood.
His gaze returned back to Naren, putting his hands up in a friendly fashion.
"I'm not trying to swindle you. I just want my men to get out of here. Why don't you join us?"
The man paused then spoke again.
"Don't tell me you're of a royal family?"
Naren looked at the man, a skeptical look on his face.
"A what?"
The Sergeant sighed in relief before digging in his coat pocket. Pulling out a piece of paper along with a pen. Urging Naren to take it.
"This is a form to join the military. Specifically my branch."
Naren took the paper, not even bothering to read it.
"Shouldn't you give me some typa speech, something to make it better. Like maybe a lotta money or something."
"I don't believe I need one. After all, the militaries first priority is to help Aspirants like you get mended by a witch."
For the first time, Naren's eyes wandered and locked with the Sergeant's. He forced his tired eyes open. Holding out his hand, urging the Sergeant to hand over the pen.
Vera jutted in.
"Y-you mustn't sign that!"
Naren, used his hand to hold her off. His hands wrapped around her head as she tried breaking free. Signing anywhere he could find a line.
"I'm under your care, sir."
Naren let Vera go, while simultaneously handing the signed form to the Sergeant.
The Sergeant shot Vera a quick glance, before pointing at the ship in horizon. Naren could hear it now. Besides the three here, there were only two other human voices present in this whole cavernous stomach. The other two were coming from what was left of the ship.
The Sergeant then pointed to a partially damaged dinghy, while reading through the form
"We can meet up with the others. And...Naren? You have to answer these questions thoroughly."
The entire ride, Vera would stay furthest away from the Sergeant. Her hands trembling, while her eyes stayed constantly fixed on him. Though, Naren didn't notice. He was too busy thinking about how easy it was to reach his Marchen now.
—————————————
The five of them sat by a manmade fire, somehow burning despite the damp atmosphere. Naren held a filled out piece of paper in his hand. It was his copy. The piece of paper had imprinted on the layer below. Though, he didn't understand why he needed a copy.
The Sergeant told him how as a superior officer he gets merit points for recruiting Aspirants. How the government was made up entirely of the military. Being only one of six factions that ruled over the world. Making him write his ability, his spite, and practically everything about him on this form.
As Naren, looked at the piece of paper, reading his spite: "Always Forgotten.", a little girl walked up to him, carrying a bowl of mush. A scowl was present on her face.
"Excuse me! Boris made this meal."
He peered past Vera, noticing a sickly old man. Bandaged.
"Did Boris puke in this too?"
Naren took the bowl, his face a look of disgust. Vera not letting go.
"You have some nerve! Boris did not have to aid you."
"Haha, even the words you use are fancier."
Vera let go with a look of utter shock and revulsion on her face.
"Of course they are."
Naren took a whiff before pulling it away from his face wincing.
"You got anything better?"
"Nothing you would be deserving of."
Vera stuck out her tongue, before catching herself and covering her mouth. She couldn't believe she did something so rude again. Instead she began murmuring under her breath. Something so quiet nobody should of heard: "It is you who speaks like a brute."
Naren chugged the porridge like food, it got stuck in his throat, but he stomached it anyways. He was way too hungry to be making demands now.
"What's so brutish bout how I talk?"
Vera raised her eyebrows, wondering if she spoke louder than she wanted to. She looked away not wanting to respond, but then came up with a though.
'I didn't ask for the freak's name."
"Sir...what is your name."
"Naren."
Vera lingered, her eyes faced down. She brushed off the bits of stone and debris under her, taking a seat while neatly brushing out any wrinkles on her skirt.
"Why did you join him?"
"Why not?"
Vera lingered, her voice a bit pained this time.
"He is...not a good man."
"With an annoying face to boot."
"Pardon?"
Naren shrugged. Then his face shifted as a thought entered his mind.
"Actually, I have another reason."
He urged Vera closer, who followed suit. Leaning close into her ears, Naren opened his mouth. Then screamed.
The girl fell back, holding her ears. She got up quickly kicking the laughing boy. The kind of kick little kids would do that couldn't incur any damage. Swiftly she brushed herself off standing stiff, immediately regretting her actions.
"I-I'm sorry. I don't know why-"
Naren spoke through his laugh, barely able to breathe.
"Hahaha...No...haha...Seriously."
Finally calming down, he urged Vera to come closer once more. Her scowled face refused to look him in the eye, instead, lurking further from him.
"I'm looking for my sister."
Vera lowered her guard, looking at him. For some reason, the strange boys goals had blossomed some hopeless thoughts in her own head.
'I want to go home.'
Naren's glimmering golden eyes reflecting her own figure. A sly smile slithering onto his face.
"Might even kill ya for it."
A beat of silence filled the air. Not uncomfortable, but present. Vera fully realizing his words. She shifted a bit from his comment, but chose to ask anyway. Only one thought floating as she spoke: 'I want to look for my mom.'
"Where is she...your sister, Naren?"
Naren shrugged. His eyes were tired, looking off in the distance.
"Dunno. She dumped her luggage and ran away."
Another beat of silence. This time it was uncomfortable.
"I wish to go home..."
Naren's eyes wandered onto Vera's face. Finding her eyes. As her legs trembled, her eyes stayed rigid and stable. Filled with conviction.
Naren blinked.
A giant ocean in darkness covered the entire horizon. Everything was engulfed in shadows except for one little candle flickering. The candle illuminated a pair of arms. Bruised and battered, the ligaments shackled. Shadows concealed everything past the forearm. However, two golden bulbs could be seen. Shining.
Naren stood a couple feet away from the creature. Slowly sinking into the dark murky waters. He whipped his head around, muffled breathing escaping from the waters as his mouth submerged. He tried moving his body, but it wouldn't respond.
The creature spoke in a raspy echoing tone. One that could be felt in the bones.
"Vera - The gentle hand."
Naren's eyes were pulled in by the beading yellow eyes in the shadows. For a second he considered not saying anything. But there were times when you're brain and body betray each other. Another muffled voice came from the waters.
"...S...is?"
With another blink he was back. Staring deeply into Vera's eyes. The eyes that seemed to ripple as the words came out of her mouth.
"...Home to Atlas...to my mother."
'To mom.'
Naren stared for a second, absently. The memory of Alice and Bjorn's words cutting through his mind: "The origin of magic — witches". Subconsciously he understood.
"Hey, Vera."
Vera's eyes glimmered.
"I have a name, Naren."
A smile crept onto his face. He hated the face of that Sergeant. Now he had just the right excuse to never see it again.
"You're a witch."