Wake Up

The smell of dirt lingered, even now, in this universe, in this world. The clay, the salt in my mouth, even the stench of shit rising from the ground where I lay it was cold.

It was real. It was real. The meaning of it. The meaning of it all.

Now I lay in this hut, this dump.

A person of sorts they called it a "shit person" because of the smell and the shape of it. Uneven wood framed me in a crude square, barely sheltering me.

The ground dirt and blood. The blood of the old man still clung to me.

The smell was undying and disgusting.

Bang!!

"Wake up, sleep boy!"

Light flooded the pigsty. I bent down, crawling my way out of that damn place.

The soldier in the blue uniform stood before me, his face twisted in disgust.

"Come, kid. Let's get going."

Walking beside him, I recognized the foul stench of the village's edge the place where they pissed.

"Now that you're up, it was my idea to make you clean the blood and all the filth in your place. But thanks to the Lieutenant's kindness, we did it for you."

I did not speak. Not because I couldn't, but because there was nothing to say. Nothing at all. I wanted to speak, but this world... this was not the world I came from. I was alone, and I had to accept it. It was hard, but...

"Hey! Wash yourself with these buckets. Change in the urinal. These clothes should last you through winter."

As the soldier Nate walked away, a strange feeling settled in me. For the first time since coming here, I felt something close to being welcomed in this unkind world. A world stained by the memories of Elliot.

"Thank you, Nate."

"What did you say?! Did I give you permission to speak, boy?!"

Smack

His hand struck my face, and I fell to the ground.

"A savage like you thinks he's welcome? Remember your place."

He walked away, leaving only the bitter taste of earth and malice.

Looking down, I saw a leather jacket and dark leather pants. The size was just right it seemed they had been meant for me.

After washing the filth from my body and scrubbing the bloodstains from my ragged clothes, I decided to wear the damp garments beneath the new ones. The cold was already setting in.

I knew my body heat would eventually dry them. Two layers were better than one.

Walking toward the village center, I saw many familiar faces some I recognized through Elliot's memories, while others were unknown to me.

Only the main street was paved with concrete; the rest of Nathan's village was built from old wood, home to farmers and miners. The villagers once traded spices and minerals to make a living, but now, with war closing in, the traders had stopped coming. Tension grew between the village head and the military of the Alden Empire. These men were here for one thing the mines and the ever-growing chaos crystals.

Elliot had little knowledge of this world. All he knew was that these crystals drove men and women to kill. He had seen terrible things acts of violence born from greed.

As I walked toward the old man's home, I took in more of the village. It was divided into many layers, with the center acting as the heart of trade. For such a small place, it had a wordsmith and a marksman's shop on the right side of the village center, their dark wooden structures blending with the natural tone of the settlement. Around them, pawnshops, small tailors, and craftsmen's stalls stood, though few people were out this late. Only a handful of figures moved through the streets, some children playing stick soccer, others smoking spice.

Spice.

It was the world's most common drug, an ingredient in strange substances that altered both body and mind.

Spice was made from darkwood and crushed red gems, ground into a fine powder. When smoked, it turned the user's eyes red, bringing a euphoric sensation. It was also the only legal drug.

As I passed an old man with crimson-stained eyes, my mind wavered, slipping into a haze. This world was filled with strange things different, yet eerily similar to my own. How could a mix of wood and powder change the color of someone's eyes?

The memories of Elliot flickered in my mind like fragmented pieces of a shattered mirror. The more I looked, the more I remembered.

Even though he had never spoken a word in his life, he had observed the world carefully.

"Look who it is!"

A boy, a foot taller than me, stood with a skeletal frame. His dark hair and striking blue eyes were peculiar, but what caught my attention was the faint golden ring in his irises just like mine, though much dimmer.

"Sorry, do I know you?" I asked, looking at him. My mind flickered, trying to recall something, but before the memory could surface

"God damn, HE SPOKE!! Charly, did you hear that? Look! The damn mute spoke!!"

Another boy stepped around the skinny one. Unlike him, this kid Charly was massive, built like an elephant, no less than six feet tall. His features resembled those of the skeletal boy.

"No way, Nile! It happened! He really did it! I was hoping my fists would get him to talk, but He threw his hands up in exaggerated disbelief. But the great lord must've heard my call because he spoke! Now we can get this shit moving before the rain!"

"Wait, if he spoke, we should ask why he stayed quiet all this time," another boy interjected, stepping into the conversation. He was about my height, wearing a blue scarf, and a scar ran across his face.

"Now, wait a minute, Scar." Nile crossed his arms, glancing between them. "If we want the damn kid to keep talking, we should just be calm, collective, and ask nicely. Don't go all rampage mode with your fists like Charly."

Looking at the three of them, memories clicked into place. They were nothing more than street goons, wannabe criminals who stole from the weak to fill their bellies. But not this time.

I'm not Elliot.

I am Ash.

I have the mind of an adult, and I can handle these kids with words alone.

"Leave me alone."

"Boys, this kid really didn't just speak he interrupted us!" Nile said, smirking. "And now he wants us to leave him alone, just like that?"

"Yes, leave me alone. I really think that would be the best idea."

"Now, hold on," Charly growled, cracking his knuckles. "Before you say another word, your face will be in my hands and then in the dirt. So, you better do what we say, like always."

"Yeah," Scar chimed in. "Just give us the bread grain, and we'll leave you alone."

"Sorry to tell you I don't have any."

"Fine then."

Charly lunged forward, his thick hand slicing through the air like a blade. I bent my knees, letting myself drop to the ground, then kicked backward with my hand bracing against the dirt

Bang!

Charly's foot slammed down where my legs had been, but I had already separated them, twisting away and getting back on my feet.

"He moves like slime," Nile muttered.

"Charly, your weight has slowed you down. You can't even catch a damn worm!" Scar throw his hands out.

Bang!

A rock, aimed at my head, flew past me and smacked into a wooden house.

I reached toward Scar, trying to shove him down, but my body weak and exhausted collapsed under his weight.

I fell. Again.

Before I could react, my instincts screamed, and I raised my arms to protect my head.

Bang!!

Charly's foot crashed against my forearm, the force rattling through my bones.

Hands dug into my pockets.

"Got it! You did have something after all!"

"What's all this ruckus?!"

An old man stepped out of his house.

"Let's go!!" Nile shouted.

Before I could move, a fist struck my head.

Bang.

A numbing sensation flooded my skull, but the pain followed soon after, crawling in like an aftershock.

"Get the hell off my porch, kid!"

I stumbled to my feet and ran. Ran back home.

Inside my home, the stench of blood lingered, thick and inescapable. The small hut had only one bed now. Reaching into my pockets, I expected to find the bread grain the lieutenant had given me but those damn kids had taken it.

Now what am I supposed to eat?

Walking toward the bed, I crouched down, reaching underneath. My fingers closed around a wooden box. Pulling it out, I placed it on the floor and lifted the lid. Beneath the bed, tucked away where no one would find them, were a book and a small white crystal. My stomach growled, the exhaustion from the fight sinking in. I knew I was starving.

Inside the box, there was a tin cup and a small silver bowl, tools for making bread. It was a poor man's meal, simple and filling. The old man's way of cooking had stuck with me: all I needed was grain and water. But...

I lifted the wooden cup.

Four grains of bread wheat sat beneath it.

Where did these come from? Wait… I remember now. Some of this isn't mine. Someone must have placed the old man's things into my box.

Who?

Shaking the thought away, I turned on the heater and placed the silver bowl on top. Making bread in this world was strange. All it took was grain and water, but the timing was everything. I dropped the grains into the bowl, added a dab of water, and waited.

One minute.

Pop.

The grains expanded, their color shifting from pale white to deep gold. The rich, warm scent of wheat filled the room, growing stronger as the grains swelled and merged into a small, soft ball of dough.

This world is strange. Enlightening, even. It's fresh, simple nature brings me joy. But... it all feels like a dream. A bad one at that.

I bit into the bread. It was warm, soft and fresh. The texture was rich, the flavor deep. If I had meat, maybe this dream wouldn't be so bitter.

After finishing my meal, I packed everything away the book, the crystal, the silver bowl. I was too tired to think, too drained to care.

All that was left was to wake up.

I lay down, pulling the thin cover over me. The cold was real. The smell of bread was real. The stench of blood... too real. My mind begged for it all to be a dream.

Maybe, when I close my eyes…

I'll wake up.