What just happened registers a minute too late in my head.

He… neutralized me in seconds.

When did he even get here?

True, I’m not exactly the battle-oriented type of sorcerer, but still…

The man looks me in the eyes as he says something, slowly. He watches me expectantly, but my lack of a reaction makes him raise an eyebrow.

He motions toward his group several times with his chin while saying something again.

Oh. Is he telling me to follow him there?

I point at my staff which is now laying a few meters away from us, he gives me a blank look, I stand my ground and mirror the expression. He sighs, then motions for me to take it… I think. I cautiously look at him again, then lift my hand in the direction of my staff, which then floats toward me—slowly, I don’t want him to think I’m trying to attack him.

With my staff in hand, we walk toward his group, with him following closely behind me. The white man doesn’t wait for us to come to him though, he joins us midway in rushed steps.

He… He seems excited. Like a little boy who can’t wait to hold his favourite toy. He appears incapable of staying in place, constantly gesticulating, and animatedly talking to me—as if I could understand him.

I am... I don’t know how to feel about him. He clearly doesn’t give a care about the fact that I attacked his friends… even if it was in self-defence.

Still, shouldn’t he be a little warry of me… but then with a bodyguard as strong as the one behind me I guess he doesn’t need to.

He pauses his gesticulations when he realizes that I don’t understand what he says. Curiosity and wonder can be read on his face like an open book.

My shock is definitive at the next sentence coming out from his mouth… which I understand… Somewhat.

“Kan hiu hiere wuhat I saie?”

I am stunned to silence for a short while. His smile is radiant as he notices the surprise painting my face.

“Hiu ondirstand! Grate skyes hiu rwilli ondistand me! I—”

“You speak the Tongue? Who are you?” I say as slowly as possible. He excitedly nods to my questions.

“Yes! Yes! Have stoudid iet fur ears.”

It does not sound like it. Is what I want to say but stop the words before they live my lips. I cough a little instead.

This isn’t the time to be rude.

The man with the spear says something to the white man, to which he nods at. He gazes at me with a curious determination in his eyes.

“Pweas, fullo us.”

“…What if I don’t want to… am I your prisoner now?”

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He urgently shakes his head, the white locs on his head following the motion. “No, no. Not plisoner… Fri-end!” He hesitates as he tries to form his words, “We learn, learn from… hiu, pweas. Not going to ham. Plomyse”

It doesn’t sound like a lie… or at the very least he believes what he says. I glance at the man behind me. He says I am not a prisoner, but I doubt his bodyguard would allow me to leave so easily.

So here I am, among people I neither know nor trust.

They decided to take camp here. While I’m sitting on a stool I moulded out of the earth, quietly observing their work.

The white man and two of the men I previously fought are in charge of raising the tents, the woman with ebony skin is making a fire, a black pot is sitting next to her—so she’s making the food too. The tall guy with the spear is not doing anything, he’s leaning on the walls of the tunnel… Staring menacingly at me.

I stare back for a while before spotting two other people, a man and a woman, they’re older than the rest—about 300 years of age—who are equally not doing anything. I sense spiritual essence emanating from them but it’s too weak to qualify them as sorcerers. They behave the same way the white man acted with me a while back. They discreetly glance at me before looking away when we make eye contact… maybe they want to speak with me but are hesitant.

Now that I think about it, everyone here to have their eyes on me, some more subtle than others.

I feel exposed, surrounded. It’s uncomfortable.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

About half an hour later the camp is ready, we’re sitting in a merry circle around the campfire with the white man and the spear man at my right and left respectively, the ebony-skinned woman is next to the former and the other two fighters next to the later, followed by the two seniors. A bowl of suspicious-looking soup has been served to everyone, me included. I slowly swirl the bowl in my hand, debating whether or not I should taste it. Instead, I raise a sceptical eyebrow at the white man.

He clears his throat and turns to face me. “Wi apologize forattacking hiu. Thought tha hiu was a spi. Mi nameis Kayin… [Ka-yin]!” He repeats his name for me to pronounce it. I copy the pronunciation as accurately as I can, and he nods in satisfaction.

Then he goes on, “Mi teamand I are researchers. Wiwantto learn more about anancient civilyzasion called Nchāre… Disis why wi are here.”

My stomach clenches at the mention of my homeland. As I thought, the Nchāre empire doesn’t exist anymore.

I try to rein in the torrent of emotions in me.

“Ancient?” My face is a blank mask as I ask, “how ancient are they? Of how many years are you talking about?”

They exchange glances, some warry, some disbelieving, and some being a mixed of excitement and disbelief—courtesy of Kayin and the two seniors.

“So… Hiuare really one ofthem? A Nchāren?” asks the senior lady.

“Answer my question! Please” I can’t keep my voice from cracking at my last word.

There is a pregnant pause.

Finally, Kayin breaks the silence, hammering the last nail to the coffin of my hope.

“About 6000 years”

6000 years?!

The number feels like a punch in the gut. For a moment I can barely think, I can’t speak. The earth has swallowed me, and I feel myself falling, falling, falling…

I don’t want to believe it. So long could not have passed… right?

The average lifespan of a Nchāren is about 300 years, while a sorcerer can live up to 500 years. Assuming that those who were not sleep induced survived the attack, too long would have passed.

Which means…

Everyone I knew is dead, my homeland does not exist anymore, and I was sleeping while all this was happening!

Someone touches my shoulder. I look up to see Kayin, watching me with worried brown eyes.

I stand up and run to a nearby wall, I have just enough time to bend over as I vomit.

It’s interesting that I barely have anything in my stomach but can still regurgitate something. And as I stop, my nausea has not receded one bit, in fact I feel like vomiting again.

This… This is a nightmare… it has to be. It can’t be possible. The Empire couldn’t have collapsed like that, so abruptly, so… easily. Everything and everyone I know could not have disappeared like that. Maybe… maybe this is a hallucination, I must have breath in the fumes of a concoction I was brewing at home.

It’s then that I remember of the thousand’s other survivors, blissfully sleeping through all this. But when they will wake up… and learn of the fall of their homeland, of the death of all their relatives and loved ones.

A shiver runs down my spine.

Oh My God.