Chapter 8

Ciroz  is Milla was walking to his destination but on the way they found an 18 year old boy calling Sam G. Powell passing out on the sidewalk. He was leaning heavily on a tree and he wasn’t moving, so Milla decided to carry him back into the inn to get some water to try and bring him round. He must have drunk more than usual tonight, she thought to herself. Not that she was complaining, but it had also been quite a while since he was drinking so much, she thought. Of course, he had stopped drinking when he lost his memories, but still sometimes, he drank when he was feeling particularly anxious or upset and this could explain his behavior tonight. Still, it didn’t matter at the moment because he was in such a bad state and she wasn’t in the mood to deal with it. Besides, it’d be a shame to waste water on someone who had passed out right here on the street, right under a streetlight.

Once the boy had regained consciousness and was standing, he tried to protest and insist that he could walk on his own, but after a quick discussion, he gave in, allowing Milla to carry his weight. It didn’t take her very long to reach the inn, because the boy had told her that it was the closest place to the market and they could get some provisions there, as well as some food for the night. Once she entered the door, he followed close behind her.

Milla bought some food and water and took Sam G. Powell to meet Ciroz. They sat down together at the same table where they had discussed some days ago. They ate silently for a couple of hours without saying anything much, until they finished eating and then Sam G. Powell finally spoke up, surprising his two companions.

“So…. Where should we start?”

He looked like he wanted to give the question some thought before making a decision. After a short pause, he turned around to look at Milla and Ciroz expectantly. Both looked at each other and then looked back at the man, waiting for the inevitable conclusion.

“I guess we should start by asking about your memories first,” he eventually suggested.

Ciroz sighed and looked away again.

“It’s too painful to tell them,” he mumbled softly and closed his eyes. “Besides, they might not really be mine anyway… They were my parents’, so maybe I’m not really who they said I was.”

Sam G. Powell looked worried.

“That doesn’t seem like a good idea,” he stated. “You may be wrong about that, though… It wouldn’t be nice if you were lying about being a human, right?”

Ciroz nodded slowly.

“True…”

A sigh escaped his lips.

“Alright… We could try to find out later. But if you decide not to share them with us at all, I promise to stop pushing, OK?”

“OK…” he whispered.

They fell silent once more and waited for a little longer. Finally, Sam G. Powell cleared his throat.

“Um … Are you ready to tell me who you are or…”

“Oh yes…” he interrupted, taking a deep breath. “My name is Ciroz and I’m 15 years old.”

Sam G. Powell looked surprised.

“15!? That’s great!” he exclaimed, clapping his hands enthusiastically. “You’re almost grown up, aren’t you?”

Ciroz blinked, obviously puzzled by Sam G. Powell’s sudden reaction.

“Uh… Yes, I suppose so… Do… Do I know you somehow?”

“Huh? Oh… No… I mean, yeah… We’ve met a couple of times before.”

“Yeah…” he murmured distractedly.

Silence filled the space between them and Ciroz continued.

“And my parents are dead,” he added.

“Sorry?” Sam G. Powell asked, frowning a little.

“Well, they died shortly before I became aware of my new memories and I haven’t seen them for quite a long time. So my memory isn’t entirely intact yet.”

Sam G. Powell considered that for a minute or two, before shaking his head with an amused look in his eyes.

“No wonder everything feels so weird to me and I can hardly make sense of the world.”

“Don’t worry about it. Everything will become clearer in time,” he assured him, smiling gently.

Sam G. Powell looked doubtful.

“Are you sure? If this is the truth, things are probably even worse than you think. The whole story of the events leading up to this war was a complete lie.”

Ciroz shook his head quickly and looked very determined.

“No, not exactly,” he corrected. “As far as we can understand it, it has nothing to do with these people who call themselves ‘demons’ or who have kidnapped Milla. And as far as my father told me about all of this, there’