Forgotten Memories

The sun cast its golden glow over the farm, painting the barley and wheat fields in hues of amber and gold.

Beneath the shade of a solitary tree, a boy rested his back against the sturdy trunk. His arms were tucked behind his head, and his eyes were shut—not in sleep, though.

The warmth of the day mingled with the cool shadows, creating a tranquil moment as the gentle rustle of leaves harmonized with the distant hum of the wind brushing the crops.

Suddenly, the light dimmed.

The boy's—Xaren's—brow twitched, his eyes fluttering open to meet the silhouette of someone standing before him. His gaze adjusted, and there she was—a girl, short like him, her outline crisp, yet her facial features were blurred, as if they refused to come into focus.

"What are you doing here, Ren?"

She asked in a soft voice that carried a tone of curiosity, and Xaren responded in a flat tone.

"Watching the field."

The girl didn't seem satisfied with his answer. She crossed her arms, leaning closer as she said, "You were sleeping."

Xaren shook his head, sitting up straighter and stretching his arms before leaning back against the tree.

"No, I wasn't sleeping. If I was sleeping, I wouldn't have known when you arrived. That's proof enough." 

Seeing how disinterested he was in continuing the debate on whether he was sleeping or not, the girl sighed and shook her head.

"Seriously, Ren." 

She plopped down beside him, crossing her legs and turning her gaze toward the glowing fields. The two sat in companionable silence for a moment, the serenity of the farm enveloping them.

Then she spoke again, breaking the silence. 

"Hmm, I understand why you like to come here. This is a pretty good spot to sleep." 

She spoke in a contemplative tone and Xaren just rolled his eyes at her words.

"Like I said, I wasn't sleeping. Seriously, this girl..." 

Before she could respond to him, Xaren held up a finger to shush her, his gaze fixed on the movement he detected near the edge of the field.

A bird fluttered down to perch on a stalk of barley, and then it began pecking it with its beak.

Seeing this, Xaren reached for a stone from the bucket on his right side, tossed it up and caught it, before flinging it with practised precision.

The stone struck the stem below the bird, startling it into flight. 

Surprised by the sight, the girl turned to him and sensing her gaze, Xaren shrugged.

"What? Didn't I say I was watching the field? It's to keep birds and animals from poking holes in our crops." 

Seeming to finally believe him, the girl posed another curious question. "How many stones have you thrown today?"

Again, Xaren shrugged as he responded. "I don't keep count. I'll pick them all up at the end of the day before I head back for dinner." 

"So, you're actually doing some work."

She spoke with a teasing tone and Xaren responded without a shift in his as he leaned back against the tree.

"Of course, I'm doing work. And for the record, I like this kind of work. I'd do it forever if I could—it's easy and peaceful." 

As he said that, the girl stood up, brushing off her dress. "Forever, huh? That does sound nice." 

"For once, we agree on something." Xaren quipped, his expression changing into a small smile for the first time today.

At the sight, the girl laughed softly, but her laughter quickly quieted as her voice took on a darker tone.

"I'm not so sure about that." 

Xaren frowned at the change in her voice.

"What do you mean?" 

She hesitated a bit before answering.

"The adults were acting strange today. When I asked my dad about it, he wouldn't tell me, but I saw a paper in his room. It said there's a war happening. A war with demons. And it's getting serious." 

Hearing her concern, Xaren scoffed and shook his head.

"A war with demons? That's for the soldiers to worry about. What's more, It's far from us, on another continent.

It has nothing to do with us. The chances of us ever getting caught up in a war are zero." 

Xaren spoke nonchalantly as he stretched his legs forward and crossed them, his eyes remaining on the golden expanse of barely and wheat before him.

"So, don't worry about it. I'll just sit here watching the fields like always. No wars for me. No wars for us."

The girl crouched down in front of him after he spoke, her distorted face tilting slightly as she reached out and wrapped her small hand around his own.

Slowly, she intertwined their fingers.

"Just in case. You know, I hear war splits up families. Scatters people across distant lands. They lose their homes… and sometimes, they never find their way back to each other."

Xaren sighed after she spoke, rolling his eyes, but he didn't pull his hand away. Her fingers tightened slightly around his, and she continued, her tone shifting a bit.

"So, I'm going to place a spell on you, Ren. Just in case we ever get split up by something like that. No matter where you are, I'll always be able to find you.

Would you allow me to?"

To her question, Xaren shook his head, letting out a small laugh, dismissive yet oddly fond.

"Do whatever you want.

But I told you, no wars for us. No fighting, no splitting up. I'm just going to sit here, watching the fields like always. That's all there is to it."

The golden light of the fields stretched endlessly, the moment between them quiet, as though nothing could ever break it.

"I certainly hope so," the girl murmured, her voice full of hope.

Xaren let out another long sigh and repeated himself for the third time.

"Like I said, no wars for me, no wars for us."

The instant he said those words, the world seemed to crack like glass. 

Suddenly, images flashed before him—a kaleidoscope of memories, cascading in rapid succession.

Fields burned as smoke rose into the skies. Makeshift military training under harsh commands. The clash of weapons and cries of battle. Companions falling, their faces blurred yet unforgettable. Drinks shared in fleeting camaraderie, only for those same friends to be lost the next day. Endless fighting, endless near-deaths, endless promotions bought with blood. A final battle, his body battered, his innards spilling out and his life slipping away amidst the chaos. 

And then—silence. 

◇　◇　◇ 

"??!!"

Xaren woke up with a start, his chest rising and falling rapidly as his disoriented gaze darted around the unfamiliar room.

Rows of beds stretched out in neat lines, each dressed with crisp white linens. Cabinets stocked with neatly organized glass bottles and metal instruments gleamed under the soft ambient light and the faint scent of antiseptic lingered in the air. 

He rubbed his eyes, trying to shake off the lingering haze of his dream which he couldn't seem to recall.

Leaning forward, Xaren rested his forearms on his knees, his breathing gradually evening out.

"Oh, you're finally awake?"

A voice broke the silence, coming from his right. Xaren turned to see a face that had recently become familiar staring back at him.

Tanned-brown skin, deep obsidian eyes, and long white hair cascading freely down her back, reaching her waist. Unlike usual, it wasn't tied up and instead draped loosely over her shoulders.

"…Ilya?"

"That's my name." She answered simply.

Hearing her confirmation, Xaren exhaled deeply, glancing around the room before asking.

"Where are we?"

"No idea. I only woke up about 13 minutes and 42 seconds ago."

The specificity of her answer made Xaren raise an eyebrow.

"That's… oddly precise."

Ilya simply nodded, raising a hand to gesture toward the space above his head. Following her direction, Xaren turned to see a clock embedded in the wall.

The second hand was just completing its 14th sweep since the hour hand passed 1.

"Oh…" Xaren muttered, staring at the clock for a moment before his gaze shifted to the calendar next to it. The date printed on it caught his attention, and his eyes widened in shock.

"Year 9025?"

Until now, Xaren hadn't considered what year it was—or whether the calendar system he once knew was still in use. Now, the date confirmed both the year and its continuity.

'It's been 12, years…'

Bad memories came rushing back. Memories of the fateful battle that ended his life.

He remembered it vividly, perhaps because it had occurred on the very first day of the Year 9013.

And now, this calendar told him it was January 23, Year 9025.

'By my count, I've been alive in this new life for at least 20 days. I don't know how long I was unconscious, but if it was 3 days, then that means I was reborn exactly 12 years after I died.'

With that thought, Xaren exhaled deeply and shifted his focus back to Ilya, who appeared to be staring blankly into the air.

'She's probably checking her status. I suppose I should do the same.'

And that he did.