Awakening to the Unavoidable Truth

When I opened my eyes, I needed to blink a few times before adapting to the light.

This ceiling was unfamiliar to me.

Several crisscrossed wooden beams supported the sloped roof. Rafters fitted into them held the wooden tiles in place.

“Where… am I?” The question left my mouth in a murmur.

Dim light filtered through an opening to my right. It was likely only a tiny hole in the wall or a small gap in the window shades allowing light in.

As I raised my hands to catch them, specks of dust hovered above me, illuminated by the wandering glow.

My mouth and throat were quite parched, but my lips felt moist, and so did the area around them. It seemed as if a damp towel had been placed over my mouth until moments ago.

I was lying on a sheet on the floor, covered in a woollen blanket. The warmth and comfort held me down, tempting me to stay, as if laziness were swallowing me whole.

I hadn’t felt like that in a while. Or so I thought, unable to remember correctly what happened before waking up. My memories were hazy, with many holes I needed to patch up.

I sat up to the rumble of my starving stomach.

Pausing to look around for a bit, I noticed the open window to my right, from where the light wandered inside.

The house was divided by a thin wall on one side, stretching halfway from the front. It blocked my view of the left side completely.

Wood planks formed the floor I was lying on, slightly elevated off the stone below, dividing this side in half.

To my left was another bed, placed on a wooden stand instead.

In the middle of the house a doused fireplace sat inside a shallow square pit. Built over what looked like hardened earth and clay, the hearth bedding mixed layers of ash, quietly flaking from old firewood, swirled with darker powder.

A metal pot hung from the ceiling above it, attached to one of the ceiling beams with a large chain.

The subtle smell of smoke still clung to the room.

Four wooden columns supported the roof, one of them near my right.

The front wall had another window, directly in front of me, and a door next to the interior wall. All my belongings were piled up on the nearest corner of the room.

The house was completely silent, but I could hear the sound of footsteps outside and people talking faintly in the distance.

Once I had pieced together where I was, I finally looked at myself.

I was only in my underwear and had my right leg wrapped up in cloth. I lifted my hand to my forehead, feeling a squeeze. My head was wrapped in cloth, putting pressure on the back.

At that point, most of my memories came back. The wounds from the fight with the beast had been bandaged up, leaving me with almost no pain.

But where was Yrish?

Why was I here alone, with Yrish nowhere to be found?

I frantically got up. When I stepped on the ground, a sharp pain struck my leg. The wound hadn’t healed yet, but I had no time to care. I dashed towards the door and opened it.

A sudden blast of sound and blinding sunrays smacked my face. The bustling sounds of the village hit my ears all at once, leaving me briefly disoriented.

My heartbeat quickened as I looked around, attempting to figure out where I was.

I recalled the blurred sights of the village from when I got here. I was on the brink of a forking path. The hill I remembered was to my right, meaning that if I went forward, I should reach the town’s market.

But should I go there? Would Yrish be there?

With no leads whatsoever and no time to lose, I sprinted my way towards it, reopening the wound on my leg and covering the fabric in bright red blood. I continued running through the searing pain.

When I got to the market, I began searching desperately in all directions.

The villagers recoiled at my sight, a stranger running, bloodied and desperate, with little clothing on.

She wasn’t there.

I stopped for a few seconds, trying to come up with what to do. Running around the village without a plan probably wouldn’t work.

Recalling the three leading paths, an idea came to mind.

If I were to follow the path uphill, there would likely be an open area where I could see the whole village from above and get a better lead on where she might be.

I tore through the market, villagers screaming as I passed.

Pain flared sharper with every step up the sloped road, my right leg cramping from the strain, but it was nothing I wasn’t accustomed to by now.

Dust rose with each footstep. Blood dotted the path behind me. Houses pressed in on either side, blocking the view of the town.

After a relentless sprint, I reached the final stretch. The long trail narrowed into a set of uneven stairs curving along the hillside, leading to an open grassy area above, higher than I had imagined.

A single tree stood over the breathtaking landscape of the town, casting a mellow shade across the ground beneath it. Smaller than any I had seen in the forest, its trunk was a lighter brown, and its flat canopy a pale green. Roots surfaced and tumbled toward the cliff’s edge.

From this height, the town looked larger than I had expected.

A large open gate stood in the distance, probably the village’s main entrance, with a vast space stretching before it. People moved about in surprising numbers, the hub of the village’s daily work.

To the far right, a thriving plantation hinted at their principal source of food, splashing colour across the otherwise wooden town.

Despite the beauty of the scenery to my right, my eyes were drawn towards the left. The town’s cemetery also lay at the top of the hill, its presence quietly commanding attention.

The graves were arranged in tiers, each slightly higher than the last. Small stone steps, lined with gravel pathways, led up each level, separated by thin stone walls. Moss clung to some of the older stones, and the faint scent of earth lingered in the air.

A lone old man, likely in his sixties, knelt before a grave, quietly praying.

When he turned around, hearing me panting for air, a sad expression lingered on his face.

After slowly getting back up, he began going down the steps and heading my way.

As he approached, his eyes fell on my bloodied leg. He let out a soft gasp, tilting his head downward.

When he reached me, lifting his head to meet my eyes, he placed his left hand on my right shoulder. Without saying anything, he gave a slight tug and turned to walk towards the cemetery once more.

This time I followed him, weaving between the graves.

We stopped before a grave on the highest layer, deep into the graveyard. I looked at his face. Maintaining his silence, he mournfully frowned as he looked at the grave in front of us.

My eyes blurred as I understood what the old man showed me.

The old man briefly pointed towards the sky.

My knees became weak, and I fell to the ground. I couldn’t read the inscription on the gravestone, but I knew.

I found Yrish.