The only upside to this was that his thoughts were his own, as he did not have the mental fortitude to untangle the sensations assaulting his mind. The memories of both entities in his mind were on fire, as if attempting to prove that he should choose one of them over the other. And yet, neither of those beings existed any more. They were only memories. How could something that did not exist any more influence him so?

Thus, to avoid drowning in this paradox, Nair only looked at what was right in front of him, a blade, a shovel, a piece of bread or the matted canvas ceiling of Iva's yurt.

In the mornings and the evenings, Nair glimpsed the memories of the boy, praying, honouring the forefathers, asking for forgiveness and begging for salvation.

During the day, he could sense that the memories of the man were in its element. That one was used to struggling, giving his all.

And during the night, Nair found himself somewhere else. A desert devoid of life, only ashes left behind by a wall of brilliant white flames spreading all around him on the horizon. A dead world. Not too different from the waking world, Nair mused. And yet...

Nair jolted up from his cot and immediately tumbled off of it.

From the darkness he could hear Iva's voice address him in a calm manner. "The desert again."

"Yes." Nair grunted in response.

"I will take you to a fateweaver the first chance we get. With the season of Death upon us soon, the campaign will grind to a halt." Iva eventually said.

"Winter." Nair mumbled. "It's called winter."

Again, Iva took her time answering. "I know the Sierusian Kingdom and the way you talk does not match its customs."

"So, where am I from?" Nair demanded, his voice fiercer than he had intended. And before Iva could answer, he continued in the same manner. "How old am I? Did I have a family? Would that fateweaver be able to answer all that?"

"Not all of it, but they may be able to help." Iva growled.

"And would it change anything?" Nair grumbled in response.

All this time he had not found the courage to look into a mirror. There had been plenty of opportunities, as Iva was in possession of a full-length mirror.

Discovering the mirror had been a rather nasty surprise. One morning, through sleep-blurred vision, he had noticed a boy staring at him. By the time he had averted his gaze, he had seen a messy tuft of dark hair and green eyes. The memories of the boy had gone berserk at the sight.

"What one wants to change is in their own hands." Iva declared in her usual imperious tone.

As Nair scoffed and tried to crawl back onto his cot, three gentle gongs echoed across the encampment followed by a single long horn call. Morning had arrived all too quickly.

"The year begins anew. Upon us the season that devours life, to create the world anew from eternal strife." Iva's brief prayer made Nair freeze. It was of the same sacred writ the memories of the boy recited over and over, and for the first time those memories connected to a place he should have been able to call home.

Yet, Iva and Toldarad had repeatedly pointed out that he spoke of things not common to Sierus. He could not have been from that Kingdom.

"Bring us water, Nair." Iva commanded. "In order to embrace what shall be reborn..."

"We must clean ourselves, our body, our mind, our soul." Nair finished Iva's sentence and marched out of the yurt.

His heartbeat in his ears and a gentle rainbow dancing in front of his vision, Nair was certain he would find himself laying face first in the mud. In his mind's eye he could see a woman with rich brown hair and a motherly smile. He could not see her eyes or her face, yet he knew she had smiled at him like that in the not too distant past. And as Iva had told him to do, so had the woman with the motherly smile told Nair about the traditions of the New Year's Day.