It was the worst concussion Kiur had in three years. 

The blood flowed from the back of his head and over his face, filling the river he was lying in face-first. 

Mud, sand and ash mingled into an emulsion and touched the base of Kiur’s lips. 

He couldn’t see far from the shallow river or beyond the ashen sands, but he could make out the figure of his delusion. Kneeling, she mumbled something in his ears, though he couldn’t hear from the throbbing in his ears. 

“I feel tired,” coughed Kiur with the muddy water entering his burning throat. His entire body was burning up, aflame from the inside out, starting with his thrashing heart. “I don’t feel like myself. I feel sick.” 

A hand travelled gently through his hair, or at least it was an attempt to. 

His delusion’s hand was shaking, her entire body trembling. Unwillingly, Kiur imitated that feeling. 

Disappointment, depression and longing were the emotions Kiur felt from her touch. Fresh droplets of tears fell on his head. 

She was sorry.

“I abandoned those children. I promised to watch out for them.” Kiur tried to move his head, facing his delusion. He fell back down. “You were abandoned too, weren’t you?” 

She didn’t answer. Instead, she hid her murky face in her hands and cried. Kiur’s hand moved to comfort her.

He instinctively pulled back. 

Behind her manifested the giant figure of a woman who was much more vivid than any of his delusions. And much more terrifying.

A twisted crown adored her head, her downcast wings spread over them like a canopy. The aura she emanated was gloomy, but her enormous hand rubbed the back of his delusion, comforting her. 

“Who are you?” Kiur asked the figure, who looked at him with closed eyes and a smile before she and everything else disappeared. 

“I’m Xander. Now get your head off my shoulder!” Kiur felt the voice and a hand of a foreign man pushing him away, banging his head against the iron bars of a caged wagon. 

Hissing a silent curse under his breath, Kiur held his poorly badly bandaged head, feeling the blood flowing again. “That hurt, argh.” 

“Good, you slobbered all over my mantle,” complained the man, angrily rubbing off the saliva residue. Then he stopped in sudden realisation, “Wait, you can understand me?” 

“What?” Kiur ignored the foreign man and focused more on their cuffed hands. People of various ages and places occupied the caged wagon, but none of whom Kiur knew. 

Outside were more wagons, each pulled by horses with natural chitin armour, horns and flaming teal legs. 

Barefooted or with barely a shoe on, the Reiszer slaves followed closely behind the wagons. The other, higher-ranked, Reiszer soldiers sat on the aforementioned horses as guards.

The sun glared down on them. 

Kiur touched the back of his head. His fingers had traces of fresh blood.

“Hey, pay attention to me,” the man snapped his fingers before Kiur’s nose. “I’m Alexandre, though friends call me Xander. I noticed you can speak my tongue, meaning you can speak my Western dialect. What’s your name? Where are you from?”

“I’m-” Kiur paused. The answer was right on the tip of his tongue, but he hesitated. His memories were gone.

—☼—

Travelling for days on end, Kiur concluded several things. 

According to Xander’s intel, there had been attacks throughout the central continent.

Many years prior, the Western and Eastern Reiszer formed one unified nation by absorbing their neighbours.

They then launched dozens of raids on its two immediate neighbours, Idaris and Hellas, the Western Kingdoms south of the Reiszer. 

That’s where Kiur’s new companion was from. 

His pale white skin, navy blue hair and bright blue eyes were indicators enough. His accent and clothing were nothing familiar to what Kiur knew. 

Xander wore a dark blue robe with thick materials and coloured green from the insides and stuffed with white fur and lined with golden marks. He looked formal and distinguished alongside his white boots and gloves. 

Though it wasn’t suitable for the desert.

“Isn’t it hot for you to wear those clothes?” asked Kiur, seeing Xander sweating profusely as his face turned red from the blazing sun. 

“I’m a wizard from the West. I have to wear it to symbolise my status.” Xander held his chin high and panted for air.  

“You will die from a heat stroke if you keep that up.” 

Rubbing his head again, Kiur felt a stinging pain. He somehow forgot his name, but thankfully, he could remember most of the details of the situation. 

He knew he had failed to keep someone safe. 

Children came into his mind. It made him insane that he forgot who he was supposed to keep from harm. More so than forgetting his identity.

“Did anything come back yet? Your name?” 

“No, yes? I can’t tell. It feels like I am lying by answering either way.” 

“This sounds like a bigger mess than what we are in,” Xander went with his hand through his long and by now messy hair falling over his face. “Good thing I have someone who can speak my language. That makes things easier to plan and escape.” 

“You plan on escaping? That seems highly risky,” commented Kiur, and translated for the other prisoners, but they dismissed it. “Weren’t you caught like the rest of us?” 

“We’ve scouted the territories in the Northeast and got ambushed. It was supposed to be my curriculum to finish the academy, and now, this!” Xander gritted his teeth and kicked one of the metal bars. 

One soldier shouted at him and Xander withdrew closer to Kiur.

“I’m a water mage and a trained wizard. Even in this desert, I could pull off an escape with everyone’s help here,” Xander whispered to them. “I promise to negotiate with my country if you help me.” 

“So you plan on using us without a proper plan?” Kiur didn’t translate the following conversation with Xander. He seemed smart and confident enough to know what he was doing, but acted arrogant and not particularly trustworthy. 

However, they had to stick together.

The prisoner groups changed regularly and seldom stayed the same.

It explained why Kiur didn’t recognise anyone. His memories were returning, but he still couldn’t find the children he was supposed to watch out for. 

It nagged on his conscious more than his lost identity.

“I’ll take back what I said about planning an escape.” 

“Why’s that?” 

Xander pointed to the approaching glades.

Having grown up in the mountains of Idaris. The furthest Kiur had ever been was the neighbourhood country of Navarre with its flatter terrain and access to the sea.

Now they have left the desert plains, making the difference in temperature and climate all the more obvious. Their captors have brought them right into the veldts of the West.

And closer to the Reiszer Borders. 

From above the cliffs, they could see the magnitude of the entire operation. Caravans over caravans with thousands of people covering every place of land in their view. 

It was massive, busy and horrible. 

“Why were they out there capturing all these people? What’s their end goal? War?”

“Retribution is coming,” Kiur remembered the voice of someone. It upset him. “Watch the world getting thrown upside down.” 

“Hey, buddy.” Kiur turned to his fellow imprisoned companion. His demeanour had changed from confident to awestruck. “Promise me something; Whatever happens in those lands, we’ll work together.” 

Surprised, Kiur looked at Xander’s pale face. “Are you getting cold feet?” 

Xander scoffed, his smile a faint one. “You wouldn’t believe how close you are to the truth. So, can you promise me that, or not? I mean it; I don’t think we can survive without relying on each other.” 

“What about the others?” Kiur pointed to the other prisoners in the wagons. 

“I can’t say they will be of much help. No offence, but most of them lost their heart to keep moving.” 

“Lost their heart?” wondered Kiur. “What makes you think I didn’t lose heart?” 

“Hm?” Xander gave Kiur a dumbfounded look as if he was faced with a stupid question. “How should I know that? I just think having someone who can speak my language here is convenient.” 

That’s why Kiur thought it was odd. 

Xander was arrogant, hiding his true colours behind harsh comments. He was scared. 

Then something clicked.

“I just remembered my name,” began Kiur, surprising Xander. “It’s Kiur. My memories are still hazy, but my heart tells me that’s my name.” 

“I know that feeling.” Xander simply nodded to this revelation, not questioning Kiur any further. “Call me Xander; that’s what my friends call me,” he offered his hand for Kiur to shake it, who stared at his gesture blankly. “Don’t let me hang there, or is this not customary in your culture?” 

“Not really,” Kiur shook his hand to his prison friend, though he couldn’t be too sure how long this relationship would last. Or how it came in the first place, but it was nice having someone on your side to trust.