I think my rib is broken or cracked. It was difficult to take in more than shallow breaths as I tried my best to hide my discomfort in front of Wes. His hair was loose, pooling around his collar bone and matted like a wild man. Every ounce of energy was drained out of him, leaving him to look exhausted and ill. He mentioned a dream.

"Our dragon friend is a spell caster," he told me, "and also a guardian of some sort, protecting something that can 'change the tides in a war' we haven't encountered."

"Did your owl friend tell you what it was?"

He shook his head, "Figured, since sleeping on stone steps with a pissed off dragon flying around was a bad idea, I should wake up and find you. In that process, wounded you severely." Guilt touched his features, eyes drifting to the massive dent in my armor. 

I drew his face upwards, cupping his chin, staring into muddy brown eyes most would find dull. My gaze was more powerful than I thought, causing his face to turn to a deeper shade of red. Letting go, I asked, "Did I ever tell you about the time I met a group of spell casters?"

He shook his head again. 

"It was a few months before I met you, actually. First time I was alone since my master was dead, walking in similar woods. One night when I rested, just as my started to close, I hear the sound of branches breaking rhythmically--"

"Sounds...odd," Wes smirked, stretching his scar. 

"It's not what you think, you perv. Branches were breaking and I got up from my bed roll to investigate. Turns out, it was just a group of very clothed women doing magic stuff. They were bad at it too. Beyond help. Somehow I startled one and before I knew what happened, I was being eaten alive by a demon--"

"The fuck?"

"Exactly. SO. There I was, mangled and guts leaking out of me, while my limbs bent in not so natural ways..." 

"Kay, I get it." 

"In the end, I decided that dying there would be a huge giant waste on the gods' part and they agreed, letting me live. Also the girls were just as horrified and managed to fix my body after a few nights of trial and error. Imagine that."

He gave out an adorable snort, seeing my attempt at making him feel better. "I rather not, thank you. This day is starting to be a mix bag and I don't know  if I like it."

"You look horrible. Is that the lute's doing?"

"Yes and no. I panicked when my father tried to kill me...again. Once the runes flared its gold, I started to sing as if it was instinct. The song I chose went beyond the energy the runes provided and needed my own to continue. When mine went out, so did the spell." His hands worked to calm down the wild knots in his hair, giving up half way through. "What power those runes give isn't meant for us to handle."

A sound drew my attention back to the low hanging clouds. I reached at my side for a blade that wasn't there. Of course it's gone, but where did it clank off to? 

"My master's sword," I murmured, "do you see it?"

"I can't see much of anything." Wes's eyes were trained on a shadow appearing before us. 

I drew the only blade I had left, the runic one, and stepped in front of Wes as a guard. 

A snake like hand pierced the veil, attached to a body of muscle that followed. Every bit of the man was pale as snow and as rough as the stones. His eyes found mine, dull sapphires without a soul behind them. He was meant to be buried in the abyss of my past. Piece by piece, my memories began to surrender to the image, detailing his armor I knew him to wear and the sword he carried. The House of Delphine was bright on his chest with no scratch to the tree horned elk. 

"Who am I?" his voice was cold as his skin, a twisted grin cracking over his lips. 

"A piece of shit," I replied, anger leaking into my voice, "You're not real." 

"I'm real enough to provoke you. I sense the rage you smothered over the years start to rumble. I see murder in your eyes and how much you want to run me through. Now's your chance."

I curled my fingers around the hilt, feeling the emotion crawl to the surface. Unlike Wes's mimic, this one could actually kill. 

Wes placed a hand on my shoulder, anchoring me, "Your adversary?"

"Shit-face-mother-hamper is a better title. But yes, he is."  

The bastard's eyes ran along Wes, noticing him for the first time and too pleased that he had. "You've been busy. A little bit of a mess, but I see the charm in it. Have ya tapped?"

I felt Wes start to shake. Letting go, he retrieved his spare lute from Sven and chucked it, landing the blow perfectly into the creature face.

"How dare you?" Wes demanded, sounding like a woman being questioned  about her chastity. "I'm a bard! Not some piece of meat you salivate over like an old blue balled pervert!" 

The creature chuckled, ignoring the dent the lute left on his forehead. "You're full of surprises, aren't you? This fight is between your boyfriend and--"

"He's not my boyfriend!"

"Whatever he is. We're busy, so bugger off will you?" 

I undid my cloak for better mobility, tossing it on Sven, keeping my glare on the asshole. I readied my blade. "You're right. I do want to skewer you like a platter for what you've done. And for insulting my friend."

He rushed me and I blocked the blow with ease, seeing the runes activate in a fiery blue. The color dripped into my fingers like melted wax, stinging me, and soaking into my veins. 

I countered his blow that had more power behind it, holding my ground for the next round of attacks I parried and managed to slice his right arm before moving out of reach when his blade swiped the air again. Like ice, his skin started to fracture around the wound.

"You improved," he said.

"You're just as slow as I remembered,"  I went on the offensive, clashing swords with him and never giving him proper time to recover as I pressed all my strength behind my blows. 

We were brought into a stalemate, grunting from the effort each side gave. The  power the runes handed me coursed through me as a second set of armor. I feel it around me.

"You're but a pup," said the creature, "Left too soon without a master. You should've burned with him."

I head butted him in the face with enough force to break bone, making him stagger and dodge before my gauntlets could do serious damage.  

He snarled at me and I stuck out my tongue, uninjured. Dignified? No. But it got the message through how much I hated him.

"Heroes do not make cheap shots!"

"I haven't been sworn in," my free hand felt along my side for my small knife, letting the runic power drip from my fingers and onto the blade itself as a blessing, "Not that I give a shit about your standards."

He moved again and I stepped back, releasing the blade into the air with precision I prayed for. Right into his skull the weapon went, crashing him to the ground and made him break like pottery. 

The Fog started to fade with his remains that smoked into wisps. Every drip of my energy was dry and the runes were dark once more. I took a step and my world began to spin uncontrollably. I wanted my knife back. "Well, that was..." 

I keeled over and caught by Wes before my head met the stone, holding me in his arms. Worry struck his eyes. Colors danced around my vision and made everything triple themselves. "Oh gods, I'm tripping..." 

Sven's snout was in my face and I thought I lost it when I heard a voice come out of him. "You're not..."  It was my master's. "But your brain is fucking melting, pass out already!" 

 My head rested in Wes's lap, his voice fighting to stay calm, "It's going to be okay Steph..." 

I let darkness take me, hoping he was right.

I woke on the streets of my home town, bathed in sunlight and starving my guts out, just as I remembered. My body was broken from a beating I received hours prior by the guards who caught me stealing the food from the baker. I was unnoticed by everyone around me, an orphan who was more trouble than he was worth. I crawled to a puddle and saw my eight year old self staring back at me, wondering why I was pulled into this memory. "Shit bags..."

A boy knelt in front of me, as scrawny as I was. I knew him as Jack. "I thought those knights killed you." 

"What did they do, fling me against a wall a thousand times?" I hear my child voice say, sitting up. 

Jack punched my arm affectionately, making the limb cramp. "Nah, you wish. Galena guards are ruthless!"

"But aren't we in Fairglen?"  I darted my eyes to the simple wooden structures and roofs leading up to the market at the square. I even spotted my late parent's cottage, letting out smoke through the chimney for a different family. My parents...what did they look like again? Maybe trading that memory with the wizard was a bad idea. 

"Are you dumb now? It's been a year since Galena invaded and took control here. They slaughtered our parents."

"Right. Of course." the memory came in flashes, blood shed and all. I think I had a little brother. "Darrin--"

"Was an infant. He starved three months ago."

I frowned, forgetting his face too. "Of course...I think I was hit harder than I thought."

Helping me stand, he jabbed his muddy thumb to the market everyone gathered in. "You should go there. I heard someone was trying to find you."

"Who?" 

"See for yourself," with that, the boy started walking away, disappearing around a corner.

"So this is the dream thing Wes talked about..." I said aloud, taking small steps towards the objective. I felt cheated. Instead of cake and song, I'm reliving the worst childhood. Who the hell wanted me?

My stomach growled from the smell of food, itching for a bite to sustain itself. The looming fear of the guards kept me walking. 

At the square, the fountain of the King was decapitated and dried out. No one came here anymore. No one except...the Hero.

He looked too polish sitting there on the brim of the fountain, cleaning his sword and hummed a tune one would hear on the road. Blonde hair reached the nape of his neck, the same shade as mine. His eyes were gray instead of green, though resemblance in our features were clear. Beside him was bread.

I crept over, reaching for the food without much of a thought.

"I found it first, you know," he looked over at me from his work, a hint of amusement twitching the corner of his lips. "But you'll eat it anyway like an animal. That's how the memory played out at least..."

I paused at his awareness and bit into the food after he gave some gesture of permission. It was warm and welcoming. I remember my mother making a similar kind of loaf. From my reaction, he could tell what I was recalling. When I was done, he spoke.

"I heard she was a wonderful woman." 

"I don't remember her much. Now or with my older self."

"You traded those memories for that armor you have, though at the time they were as precious as timber wood to you. You saw no value in the pain they carry," he rose, sheathing his blade and offered me his hand to hold. "Found out this is a dream yet?"

I took his hand, nodding. "Unless you magically survived being burned alive at the stake and discovered time travel."

The scene of Fairglen misted away as we walked, solidifying into a rambunctious tavern that was filled to the brim with celebrators. Lights were low and drink seem to flow without stop. I remember this more clearly.  

We are sitting now at a table after finding a quieter corner to watch the drunkards make fool of themselves, my master already having a mug or two. Jericho is his name. And he was my half brother. 

Clasping my shoulder with a laugh, he replied, "Sadly no. I'm still very dead and what you saw was real. This is your mind trying to anchor itself before you become a puddle and murder everyone you love. Remember Remy?"

"The farmer?" It was the first person I help as an apprentice, having to chase wit--spell casters off his land a couple of times. He was kind.

"Yes, that Remy. He got shit drunk one time and fell in a pool of magic one of the witches made. Since he wasn't born with the ability to weave reality, a.k.a basic magic, his mind melted and became a monster. I sent you off to study at some far off library for a few hours so I could end his misery without traumatizing you. I think this is after the fact, lying to you and said that Remy went on to greener pastures." He took another drink, motioning to the chaos with the mug he was using. "Everyone here is so crazy over us killing those orcs. You hold this moment dear." 

I held my own mug, only water since I was underage at the moment. The wood was smooth with the metal. "It was the first time I heard you say that you were proud of me."

“Did you believe me?”

“I think so.”

“Because I was. My little brother is growing up and being a fighter, how else should I feel?” He punched my arm lightly. “Little rough around the edges, perhaps, but a loving heart nonetheless. You haven’t had a chance to show it.”

Tears started to brim, feeling the grief wash over me, knowing he was gone all over again. I cursed at myself and wiped them away with a sleeve, no longer in rags. "Gods dammit..."

He brushed away those I couldn't catch in time, hushing me in a soothing tone, "“Little heart ache. That’s alright.”

More than little. It felt as if my heart was ripped out. I wasn't even there when they buried him. I was too busy running away.

"I saw him, Jericho."

Knowing what I meant, he slowly nodded, "You did. He was there like I am to you right now, but for darker purposes. He's the man you hate and who haunts you with that anger you try to suppress until it spits at you. Best to face the emotion and know that these memories you detach yourself from makes you, you Robert."

It had been forever since I heard that name. It was foreign now, no longer mine. "It's Stephan." 

His eye brows lifted in mock surprise. “Oh? SO you finally listened to me after I became a human torch. Typical of you. I've always said that name fitted you better than what your mother chose.”

“If our real father didn’t try to kill me as an infant, maybe your influence would’ve gotten to her,” I say dryly.

“It would’ve been way worse than Robert. I was a cruel child," with his drink finished, he rose, having me follow him outside.

The noise travel into the night, full of stars I once believed were souls. I gazed up at them, letting Jericho disappear, only to return with white fluff in his arms. Its red beady eyes looked back at me with the same awareness my master had. I touched the fur with a cocked brow.

"A bunny?"

"It's your guardian," Jericho informed. "He doesn't talk much, but he's there to protect magic from corrupting you."  

"With his cuteness?" I didn't sound impressed. 

"Give him some credit. He's the one who created this dream and brought me to you. What you need, he delivers," Jericho closed his eyes. Burn marks covered his skin in the moonlight. "I think its time to wake up now, Stephan." 

Not wanting to go, I gripped his arm, "Will I see you again?"

He kissed my forehead, the world being torn apart by an unseen giant. "If you need me, I'll be here. Farewell, my brother." 

Stepping back, he was gone.