I gasped, panicking, tasted vomit in my mouth and nostrils, half of my face burning, and I was once again drowning.

I tried to keep myself afloat, but I had never learned to swim. I flailed around and sunk more and more. Water entered my mouth and I mixed with the vomit as my body recoiled at the nasty concoction I had just drank.

But I was too busy trying not to die to keep such thoughts in for far too long. This time I found no surface to help me climb and the feeling of death washed over me as my eyes dimmed. I was starting to lose consciousness and my limbs were getting slower.

I was half sunk, with only my arms out and the dark waters greeting my vision, stinging my eyes a bit. But before my eyes could close forever, I found a disturbance in the distance.

Something was coming towards me. I tried to keep myself awake but I couldn’t. Praying internally for it not to be a shark or any such predator, I finally lost consciousness and sank into the dark depths of my mind.

- - - * - - -

“…. bleugh" I woke up with a start as a rush of water left my mouth. A weight on my stomach pushed it out and I broke out in a fit of coughs.

‘Fuck that sucks.’ I cursed as I lay on my side and coughed more and more water out. The memory of the vomit-water concoction disturbed my stomach and I finally puked. Gushing hot water and food left my mouth and I finally felt so much better.

Wiping my mouth off my sleeves, I lay a little away from the scene of nasty. My mind was awake enough to realize I had several people hovering over my head and mumbling something. Although I was thankful to them for saving my life, I really wished they could move the fuck away for a while.

“Are you okay you sweet child?” The voice of an elderly lady called out to me and made me feel a little better. In return, I answered her between gasps “Yes ma’am, thank you for asking.”

“Thank you all for saving my life too.” I said to the others hovering above me.

After a minute of throwing up more and more water, I finally felt a little better. I felt thirsty, ironically. “Water…” I mumbled as I finally sat up on my own. I could feel a hand rubbing my back and stroking it gently.

‘Oh, this sweet angel. I do not deserve them.’ I thought as I looked back at the sweet person. It was a middle-aged woman. Her dimples were the first thing I noticed and then came the bloating stomach.

She was pregnant I realised. 7 months in at the very least. And yet she bent down to help me. I felt my eyes tear up.

‘No one deserves her.’

“Thank you, ma’am.” I coughed as I thanked her.

“All good all good Tolkia.” She said with a smile. My confusion must’ve shown on my face as she quickly explained “Tolkia is the equivalent of Mister in our culture.” Her voice had this accent. It reminded me of Germany from my world.

“You shouldn’t put too much pressure on your belly sweetheart. Here, lemme do it.” A man wearing a flat cap and black vest over a white shirt walked up front from behind and very carefully lifted his wife before rubbing my back.

It was rough and crude. He was young in technique and looks. I did not like it this way.

I looked back at the woman who still smiled at me, and I reaffirmed my belief.

‘No one deserves her.’

“How did you get there, ugly uncle?” A little shy girl asked me, hiding behind her father. She wore a cute little dress with flowers on it and sandals. For that, I’d forgive her calling me uncle. But ugly?

‘Am I so ugly? I thought I looked good enough. Maybe there is something on my face?’ I wondered, suddenly self-conscious.

“Ramona! You don’t talk like that to others! Quickly apologize! I’m sorry on her behalf Mister, she’s very impulsive and got scared of the nasty scar on your face,” Her mother, a woman in a dress similar to her daughter's and a beach hat on her head said.

’Scar?’ Then I remembered the burning sensation on my face, ‘That must’ve left a nasty one for sure. Definitely not pg-13. How did I get that though?'

“It’s okay, I don’t mind it. And to be honest, I don’t know. I fell asleep in the night, and the next thing I know, I was here.” I lied. Talking to a bunch of strangers about how I last remembered seeing a new moon and a different version of me in a mystical place before opening my eyes in the water seems like a sure way to get labeled as a lunatic.

‘How did I get here?’

“Ugly uncle, do you have memory problems? My nana used to have them too before she passed away. She’d always call me Rose but my name is Romana! Would you die like her too?” This cheeky little thing.

Then I realized, it was all a ruse. The impulsiveness, and the shy act. She’s a demon and one who attacks from behind a cover. She’s an innocent demon, yes.

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

And she could do it cause of one man. Her father who stood in front of her towered over everyone else. The musculature and the wariness in his eyes. The shifting feet, and the passing surveillance.

I looked back at the little girl, and she hid behind her father even more. Cheeky girl, I bet you’re laughing there.

“Here.” A man wearing a beige kurta and pajamas handed me a glass of water.

“Thanks.” I thanked him as I drowned the glass of water, taking big gulps. “Ahh, that feels better.”

“Thank you all for helping me.” I thanked them again.

“Oh, it was him here who dived in to save you. You should thank him!” They pointed towards a man who was soaking wet similar to me and sat in the back, catching his breath. I wondered how I did not notice him.

He was an unassuming young man, a face which gets lost in the crowd. Buzz cut hair, a light beard on his face, and glasses on his eyes. His eyes had a hopeful glint behind them as he looked at me.

‘What does he hope for?’ I wondered as I nodded at him “I’m really thankful for doing that mate. What’s your name, friend?”

“Oh, it’s okay. I just wanted to help. The name’s Shawn. Shawn Nivel.” He nodded back, happy with himself.

“My name is…

- ‘Should I use Conor? No, I can’t take that risk!’ -

“Carl Stefan.”

“Tolkia Stefan, do you want any spare clothes you can change into? You’ll catch a cold in those.” The pregnant lady said.

I mentally coordinated tolkia with Mister and finally replied “Unfortunately I’m as empty-handed as I slept. Only if I knew I was gonna end up in such company, I’d have packed my best clothes. For now, I’d be really grateful if you people could lend me a pair.”

“Ah of course. We can’t fault you for these things, Tolkia. Aries dear, can you give him a pair of your shirts?”

‘His name is Aries? That guy?’

“But then what would I wear, honey?” The man Aries in question, looked troubled at the notion of sharing his clothes.

“Oh c’mon, you bought more clothes than I did for a week's journey. You are never gonna use up all that! Just give him one shirt and pants.”

“Hahh, I guess I can do that much.” Aries stood up and went into the salon of the boat.

“So… that scar looks pretty old. How did you get it? If you don’t mind me asking.” A man wearing a floral shirt and cargo half pants looked at me as he asked. He had one hand in his pocket, and the other around the waist of a woman. The woman in question looked disinterested in the ongoing situation.

I looked at them and an empty feeling overcame me. I wondered if I felt that because of the lack of my partner with me, but quickly shook it off.

‘Now how do I spin this off…’ I mused but pretended to stare off into the space to make it look like I was remembering a past trauma.

‘Fell into fire? Someone attacked me? Hmmm…’ I suddenly remembered the quill in the hands of the mysterious person, and an idea struck me.

“It was a few months ago.” I started, looking lost yet gnashing my teeth, “I used to work as a critic for a newspaper firm. My job was to go through poems and stories we would get, and to separate the wheat from the chaff. It was a nice job, and I have always loved to read books and such. Although some stories would surely make me cringe just reading them. Oh yes, those were the days I regretted taking this job.

“So one day, cough, I get this story from a new author. Pen-named Collen. It was a romance story, nothing wrong with that itself. But then you read it.

“And I realized, maybe dying would be better than this.

“So very obviously, I rejected the story. Wrote a letter of harsh criticism back to the author, and continued with my work. Unbeknownst to me, one day when I was coming back home, a boy ambushed me. Hardly more than 17, he had green eyes and a pale face. He carried a torch in his hands and he looked angry.

“And without any explanation or any warning, he pounced at me and struck my face with his torch. The fire spread through my left face and burned it pretty badly. As I lay there wondering if he’d kill me, he ran away.

“Maybe he suddenly got scared, or he thought that was enough to kill me, but he left with his torch. Later that day I found myself in the local doctor’s house. I was treated the best they could, and the boy got arrested.” I finished the story and looked at everyone.

They all looked touched, sympathetic even. I felt a touch of guilt when I saw the older woman from earlier tear up a bit at my story, but I needed something to distract them from my sudden appearance here.

Although they might take me at my word right now, they’d get more and more suspicious with time. They’ll start asking questions. And I was bound to make a mistake somewhere along the line.

Better to shut their mouths with sympathy and pity. And my story had worked its magic. For even the cheeky girl from before looked shocked at my story, her eyes widened and she quickly hugged her father’s leg, sniffling a little.

“Truly a dreadful story, I apologize for reminding you of these tough memories. The fact that you can speak of them with such toughness speaks of your character. You have my respect.” The man who asked me said. Even his wife (or girlfriend) looked at me sympathetically.

I looked at the couple and the empty feeling persisted. I was confused. I have seen other couples and I never felt like this. Sure, a bit of jealousy and yearning, but never like this.

I looked around at others and I felt normal. Even the couple with a daughter didn’t invite such a reaction from me. Then why them?

I focused internally, closing my eyes, I looked for the source of it. Shuffling through emotions, I can’t find anything. No prior memories of our meeting. Then why?

And then I looked at my mist. A small cloud hovered inside of me. Blocking something behind it. I mentally noted to check what it blocks later, but for now, I focused on feeling my mist.

My intuitions fired up and in my senses, warm and cold currents of mist appeared. It flowed and ebbed from point to point. It coalesced around objects, rolling around people, yet all of it never stayed still for longer.

Some of it flew away and mixed in others', in the environment, and dispersed. Everyone had it around them. The old lady had a little bit of cold mist mixed with warm ones, and the pregnant lady whereas had warm currents flowing all over her.

The little girl too, her warm currents distorting my vision. Everyone had these, either warm or a mix of warm and cold.

But those two…. they had none. They stood alone, unaffected by the currents. The current passed through them like they didn’t exist.

I opened my eyes and looked at them. I saw a hint of apprehension in the eyes of the man before they turned into ones of confusion as he asked me, “Is there something wrong, friend?”

I shook my head. This was not the place or time.

‘I need to get a hold of my powers as soon as I can!’

- - - - * - - - -