A Name for the Lost

Her world was inverted. Jianna’s gaze drifted from the disorienting sight of an outstretched hand to the face hanging upside down above her. In that moment, a flicker of comprehension penetrated her confusion; she finally understood what this creature—this demon, perhaps?—was offering.

“My name’s J—” she started to say, her fingers tentatively closing around the offered hand. It was unnervingly frigid, a touch like polished ice that sent a shiver through her.

“Wait!” Malakor’s voice was so sharp and sudden it felt like a physical blow. Had she not already been sprawled on the forest floor, the sheer force of his command would have sent her reeling. “You must never reveal your true name. Not to anyone. Malakor is not my soul name, and I shall never surrender it to you. To do so is the surest way to grant another power over your very essence. It is a profound wonder that your kind has not managed to annihilate itself entirely in the Out-Realm, given such carelessness.”

“Well, I don’t have any other names,” Jianna countered, her mind scrambling to keep up. She had firmly decided this had to be a dream, so it couldn't hurt to play along until she woke up. This devil, however, seemed perfectly capable of twisting her whimsical dream into a waking nightmare if she wasn’t careful. “I don’t have a nickname or anything like that. What do you suggest I call myself, then?”

Malakor crossed his arms, his strange features contracting in thought as he looked down upon her. “Anything ye wanna, I s’pose,” he said, his voice a gravelly rumble. “Typically, the head of yer fam’ly bestows yer Common Name, an’ I’m certainly not abou’ to be the head of a human.”

“Okay...” Jianna murmured, her thoughts turning inward. “I’ve always been fond of the name Melora. What about that?”

A dismissive snort escaped Malakor as his lip curled in clear distaste. “That is a Satyri name. Choose another.”

She rolled her eyes, deciding against asking what, precisely, a Satyri was. “Fine, then I don’t know. You don’t have to be my ‘head’ or whatever you called it. Just pick a human-sounding name and give it to me.”

“Very well, if you’re too dense to conceive of a name for yourself,” Malakor snarled, though the threat was undercut by a theatrical weariness. “I’ll go through all th’ trouble to think a’ one fer ye.” His eyes rolled upward and to the side, giving Jianna the distinct impression he was studying something invisible just over her left shoulder. Seizing the opportunity, she finally slid out from under the creature’s shadow, rising to her feet and dusting the clinging soil and leaf litter from her clothes.

“I have it!” the devil declared. He bent his back at what appeared to be an anatomically impossible angle to peer down at her again. “You shall be called Florian. It is a human name, and common enough that none will think you strange for it. Of course,” he added with a sly glint in his eye, “they might think otherwise after takin’ a closer look.”

“They?” Jianna echoed, a fresh wave of questions rising. “Who are ‘they’? Am I supposed to be meeting someone?”

“Aye,” the creature confirmed with a decisive nod. Just then, his grip on the overhanging branch failed, and he tumbled to the ground with a remarkably light thump. Standing upright on two pairs of limbs, he resembled a bizarre, slate-gray centaur. Even with his strange posture, the monster was only chin-height on Jianna, who was not a particularly tall woman. “Yer to visit the court of Kaur-Koram. It’s one of the mightiest kingdoms in the whole of the In-Realm. I can tell you no more than that. I am merely your escort, so do try to keep yer mouth shut and refrain from drawin’ attention to us when we pass through a town or some such place.”

“Hold on a minute,” Jianna said, raising her hands in a gesture to halt everything. “I’m supposed to appear in a court? What for? I haven’t done anything wrong! And why are you taking me? What is this whole Kaur-Koram kingdom business about?”

“Kaur-Koram!” Malakor snapped, his temper flaring. “‘Ave some respect enou’ to say the bloody name correctly!” Jianna found this comment deeply ironic, considering Malakor’s own cavalier treatment of the English language. “And I already told you, I cannot say why they want you at the court. What you need to know, however, is that nearly all the great Lords and Ladies of the In-Realm will be there. They are gathering because they need to speak with you.” He turned, glancing over his shoulder as he muttered, “Just trust me, and les go.”

It was then that the final piece of the puzzle slid into place. The strange hue of his skin, the unsettling familiarity of his features—she now understood. “Wait a second,” she said, her voice low with dawning realization. “You’re the one who took me, you absolute jerk!” Forgetting entirely that this was all just a dream, she stomped over to Malakor and jabbed an indignant finger toward his face.

“How dare you?” she seethed. “That was incredibly rude! If you had just entered my dream politely and asked if I wanted to come, I would have said yes, of course! I mean, it’s a dream, right? Nothing can hurt me here! There’s no reason I wouldn’t go! But no, you had to abduct me and force me into this dream instead! You are a complete jerk!”

Throughout her outburst, Malakor’s eyes had gone comically crossed as he stared at her finger, which hovered barely two inches from his nose. When her tirade finally ran out of steam, he spoke with unnerving calm. “Ye know, I think yer logic is a wee bit, ah… screwed?”

With a great, frustrated sigh, Jianna spun around and sat down stubbornly at the foot of the tree behind her. She crossed her arms and legs in the defiant posture of a petulant child, fixing him with a furious glare.

“I’m not moving from this spot until I wake up!” she announced to the creature, who merely stood motionless, watching her.

Malakor groaned, a sound of profound exasperation, and began to walk toward her. Upon reaching the tree, he leaned down, bracing all six of his limbs on the ground around her and bringing his face inches from her own.

“Listen, human,” he whispered, his voice a solemn, deep rumble that seemed to vibrate through the ground. “Aye, I kidnapped you. It is the only way I know to bring an Outrealmer to the In-Realm. And you would not have wanted to come willingly, not in any case. The passage between the realms… it is not a gentle thing for your kind. Had you been conscious, the journey would have been an agony beyond your comprehension. Do you understand me?”

Jianna glared back at him. “Even through your peculiar mangle of a language, I think I get the gist. Fine.” Pushing herself to her feet, she once again brushed the dirt from her attire. “Lead on, Malakor. Since this is all a dream anyway, I’ll probably wake up soon. A little look around can’t hurt.”

Letting out another weary sigh that turned into a snort, Malakor turned and began to lead the way, his six limbs carrying him out of the clearing with a strange, silent grace.