There was a disjoint to the place. Little abnormalities as memories bled like dreams.

A merchant’s stall stood crammed between half-fallen buildings. Far from the market’s silken canopy, its polished wood was a stark contrast to the moss and mold that slicked the nearby surfaces. It was empty save for the wall of mist that shrouded its interior. The suggestion of a person lurked in the white.

They passed the oddity but she noticed others. A precious stone amidst piles of trash. A cosy home peered through the windows of a crumbling home.

Most jarring was an emptiness. The ubiquitous detritus was missing. The buildings lost their meekest offerings. Slate grey stone untouched by the paint and artistry of generations gone. The city faded into complete silence. Their steps failed to sound. Like a layer of the world was missing.

The absence passed like the others, but the experience buried itself into her thoughts, it was familiar.

Burgundy carried them in a meander. Yet the circles she led them through did not end where they began. There was a constant sense of movement. Where due to them or the shifting memories, she didn’t know.

Through it all Burgundy plowed forward, hunting for something unknown.

It was eerie, like whispers just beyond comprehension. Enchanting as a secret skirting the edge of her understanding.

Covered in mists and gentle rain. Shrouded in mysteries. This was her mind, and she barely understood it. Barely was too strong a word, she didn’t understand it at all.

Why was it raining? She’d always loved these gloomy days, but what did that mean? She didn’t know and for every silhouette of a childhood bully she placed. A dozen more figures and scenes went unrecognised.

She drifted behind Burgundy's stalwart march. Their heat thinned the haze and she walked in their wake. Steps guided by while her gaze roamed untethered.

She felt like a curious stranger in the halls of her mind. Peeking into places she was never meant to see. An alien to herself.

As she watched and re-discovered distant moments, a question rose above all others. Why was this so fun?

She skipped over weathered stones. Careful not to slip into the water. She reached the far side and stopped. She glanced over the green.

What was this place? The memory came to her as if a key finding its lock.

This used to be a channel, the sharp moss-covered stone edge that served as the river’s back proved that. Filled with mud and stone borne of generations of neglect. Weeds decorated most of the channel length. Turning the wonder borne of neglect into one of the slum’s few lush places.

Ir was a river as wide as any that crisscrossed the city but had a shallow gentle flow. Here in this specific spot was different though. Wooden buildings had encroached and succumbed to the water. Rotten wood perfumed the air and nourished life. Verdant enough to leave the rest of the river a collection of scraggly weeds fulled by scant drips and the slum proper a barren wasteland. It was a private place hidden by other structures that forded the waters.

A quiet valley, that hid the first tree in her memory. She’d come here some early mornings and late nights when no one was around and there was nothing better to be doing. The sun and moon would sparkle against the burbling waters.

And though mist hid any imaginary light, the flow played in sonorous bells joined by soft rain. While tall grasses and reeds rustled and cast long shadows over the thin undulating mist. Vaporous tendrils curled around mossy stones

Stones she used to skip across. She found a smile on her face and tears in her eyes.

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A small hand tugged her sleeve. Burgundy stared up at her. Their immature features curled in disapproval. Water touched their burning eyes.

“Stop that,”

Two wiped her tears before they could fall. “Sorry, there’s no point in crying, let’s go.”

“Not that, stop being happy I’ve never liked this place.”

Two huffed but didn’t pull her gaze from the tree. Its gnarled wood and exposed roots told a tale of struggle. “How can you tell I’m happy.”

She could feel their heated gaze. “You’re smiling.”

She had no reply.

“Idiot.”

They watched the water in silence. Neither moved to leave.

“You say you’ve never liked this place. Does that mean you remember it?”

“Parts” Their grip tightened on Two’s cloak. Tow put her hand on their shoulder.

“I’d forgotten this place existed,” she smiled and sadness pulled at her. “And I can’t remember I never came back here.” She covered her eyes to ward off the tears.

Burgundy scoffed, “I do, we left because it was too good for us. We’d disappear here for hours with nothing to show for it. Lying in the grass tired and hungry not bothering to help ourselves. While we gorged on daydreams.” Their words were harsh in intonation, in the way she trembled as she spoke. As if the words cost her something. Yet they felt hollow, without true heat.

Two smiled, and she knew what those words cost her younger self. “So we left,” she began, “Because the place that nurtured our dreams couldn’t let them grow.”

A moment passed.

“That’s a nice way of putting it. I’d have said we left because this place reminded us of how much we hated ourselves.”

Two had no reply.

Burgundy tugged her along. They left the valley. The girl’s gaze remained fixed on it til the final spec of green faded into the mist.

She tasted like longing.

***

The mist pressed in, thickening until they had to stand side by side to remain in sight. The rain was beginning to soak Two. Droplets trickled through the stitches and patches in her cloak.

Shadows took the place of walls in the haze, and they towered. Light streamed from above, granting light and a soft glow to the world. But now. The buildings loomed as if fingers reaching to grasp or smother the light.

Something lurked in the air. Not the black lake’s nightmare, that was certainly built into poison. This reeked of uncertainty, diffused and muddled it suffused the mist. Touched her tongue and filled her senses with something that had no proper name. No description but overwhelming.

She hid her face in her cloak, but it had steeped the cloth. Burundian flame flared and failed to beat back the overbearing mist. Yet the peppered scent of her distaste brought Two relief.

“Where are we going Burgundy.” Two’s came muffled by cloth.

“That’s the second time you’ve called me that. I have a name unless you’ve forgotten your own. Wouldn’t surprise me seeing all the other shit you forgot”

Two sighed, “Burgundy because your cloak is mine but burgundy and thinking ‘other me’ is confusing. Now don’t deflect, you brought us here for a reason, what are you looking for.”

The girl in question glared at her. “What does it matter? You plan on backing out.”

Two stopped and held her gaze. “No, but I made that agreement under the presumption you wanted to learn more about yourselves before whatever happens when I make you my essence.” Her voice turned from cool to certain.“That is not the case. You have a destination. You have a purpose.”

Two noted increasing anger on the girl’s face. Tension building to lash. That wouldn’t do. She softened her voice and slumped her shoulders she sighed long and hard.

“I’m worried Burgundy afraid even. I ran into something like this.” She hissed and threw her hand in a violent gesture at the world. “I don’t know what it was but it almost drowned me, and this nonsense feels similar.”

She dropped her hands and stared into their amber eyes. Letting her real concern feed her performance.

They muttered under their breath. Two blinked slowly. They hissed and threw their hands in the air. Flames rose from their skin, overcoming the mist. While burgundy spun in a tantrum. Before coming to stop and jabbing a finger a Two’s face.

“Fine! This is a memory!”

Two squinted with an otherwise blank expression.

They scream into the sky, Then glare with renewed fire. Casting the mist in flicking orange and red hues. Embers curled off her dark skin, like baleful, inordinately pissed stars. “No! Were you sired by a clam or a literal rock? This is an old memory, an important one. The core of who I and apparently you are. I need to see it and if you won’t help me I’ll beat you into it.”

Two sighed in relief. “Just a memory,”

“Not just a memory! Were you even listening you-“

“It’s just memory,” Two’s stares hardened. “Not a monster, long forgotten nightmare, or some soul-crushing truth. It’s a memory.

Burgundy met her gaze and whatever it was she saw smothered her rising indignation. Her flame guttered, her accusing finger fell. “It’s just a memory,” she huffed.

Two painted on a smile. “Thank you for clarifying, it’s a weight off my chest.”

“Sure, glad to be of help.” Sarcasm filled her voice.

“Well lets go.” She said brightly and prodded The smouldering girl into motion.

They continued into the heart of importance wrought into oppression by sheer magnitude.