I can feel the sun on my skin and the shadows moving above me. There’s birdsong in the background, but not like that of bird-folk. I test each of my limbs, making sure they’re there. My left hand is numb, but I can feel it moving against my leg. I pry open my eyes, blinking against the sunlight streaming through the leaves far above me. I hear the shift of dried leaves to my left and I turn to look, my head pounding. A man sits there, watching with calm interest as his skin knits together, turning from black, to grey, to brown, to a deep golden tan. He doesn’t seem to notice I’m awake yet, more interested in watching as his flesh bubbles, filling the space between his shin bones and engulfing his foot. 

I watch too, fascinated and disgusted and knowing. I don’t really… know what I know, but I can feel the knowledge of what is happening tickling the back of my brain. I look back to the man’s face, startling when he is staring back with dark eyes. He grins, a flash of sharp teeth and a hole in his cheek before it knits together. I sit up, wincing at the various pains throughout my body. My side aches like something was broken but it’s healing, and my throat is sore like I’ve been screaming.

“Hello, there. I see the little nightshade has woken up,” he says, teasing tone lilting his accent. I frown a bit, trying to place where he’s from, who he is. I’m pretty sure, from what I saw, that he was dead at one point. Definitely not anymore.

“...who are you? Where are we?” I finally say.

“Great question, kid. I have no idea where we are. But who I am, I can definitely answer. I am Oswin Tresiccisert,” he says, pushing himself up to stand. I start at the god-name, marking Oswin as god-touched by Tressic. The dream god. Deity of trickery and illusions. A dangerous friend and even more dangerous enemy. Oswin looks down at me, holding a hand out. On his forearm is Tressic’s symbol, swooping down and over and swirling across his skin. I grab his hand, letting him help me up.

“Why?” I say, frowning more now. Why would Merri, the goddess of death and endings, bring a god-touched person back to life? Why was it Oswin, of all people? Why are we standing here? Why don’t we know where we are? Why don’t I remember anything?

Oswin shrugs, as if he had heard all of my questions. “Well. You’re here with me, so I guess Merri decided her new tchiakci needed protection,” he says, waving towards my hand. I look down, noting the sharp lines, gentle curves of the circle. It looks like a tattoo, but I know deep down that it will feel engraved in my skin.  “Apparently I was the best choice for whatever reason.” I nod, mostly just focused on the goddess’s claim on my skin. Why did she choose… me? Then a small thing finally registers in my head. Tchiakci was an old word, one I knew I hadn’t heard in my lifetime, but one I knew all the same. 

God-touched, blessed, chosen. 

“So. You’re a Tresiccisert, and I’m… a Merrirrem?” I say, the words feeling strange in my mouth. Oswin nods, looking faintly amused at my stumbling tongue. “And you’re… what? Supposed to teach me or something? I think dreams are very different from death.” I scowl at Oswin, who finally laughs.

“Dreams and death aren’t so different, actually. But you’ll learn in time,” he says, mussing my hair. I reach up to fix it, pushing him away and turning.

“Fine. Whatever. Where are we going?” I say, looking around the forest. To the west, it falls off towards a beach, water glinting in the bright sun. To the south, north, and east are more woods, but something that sounds like a stream is more north-east. That would probably be our best bet, but I still look to Oswin to see what he says. He glances at me, raises one eyebrow, and walks off towards the sound of the stream. I huff and follow after him.

The bank of the stream is rocky and muddy, and I nearly slip several times before righting myself. Oswin doesn’t seem to have nearly as much trouble, waiting whenever I fall too far behind but not offering to help me up. I make sure to keep scowling at his back as we walk, but there’s no flames yet that have sprung up, so I give up after an hour. After I slip for a fifth time, Oswin sighs and turns to me.

“Kid. Don’t step on the rocks or roots. Step on the clumps of grass, they’re more solid and you won’t slip as much,” he says, grabbing my arm and pulling me to a clump of grass. “See? No falling! Now come on, I’d like to figure out how to get supplies without worrying you’re going to fall in the stream and die.” I roll my eyes, but follow after him, stepping where he steps and making sure to stay on the grass clumps.

Sure enough, I don’t slip again. Far ahead, the trees start to thin, fields beyond them. Oswin starts walking faster, forcing me to go faster so I don’t get left behind. When we reach the edge of the forest, Oswin stops and surveys the fields. Grass as tall as my waist waves gently in the breeze, bugs humming and buzzing. A road stretches out of the forest, meandering into the fields a ways away from us. Oswin glances down at me and grins, gesturing towards the road.

“Found a path, now we’ve gotta get supplies,” he says. I raise an eyebrow at him. “No, I don’t know how we’re going to get supplies. I didn’t die with any money on me and, frankly, I rather doubt you did too, considering all of you.” I look down at myself, the plain brown trousers, loose tonic, and the belt. My shoes are the only things that look remotely in good condition, and even they’re splattered with unknown stains.

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“Well, I might have money,” I say, sticking my tongue out at Oswin. He rolls his eyes as I search my pockets. I really didn’t think I had money, but my hand brushes a pouch in one pocket that had definitely not been there before. I hesitate, glancing at Oswin with a small frown. He frowns in return, then something seems to click in his eyes.

“Ah. She forgot that folk use money, huh?” he says and I nod, pulling out the pouch of coins. They glitter through the small hole: copper, silver, gold. I stare at it in quiet shock before passing the pouch to Oswin. He weighs it, eyes narrowing before a sharp nod. “We should have enough for clothes, traveling supplies, and weapons. We can catch food later when we find out where we are. Let’s get going.”

We get to the road, which is well-traveled but small. Wagon ruts are carved into the road, small puddles gathering in the ruts. Oswin walks in the middle of the road, where the horses would normally walk and pull the wagon. I follow behind, imagining us as horses for a moment, grinning to myself as we walk. Clouds skitter across the sky high above, the wind whipping them into kinked lines like rope rather than fluff like the wool of sheep. I keep my eyes trained upwards, trying to find patterns in them far above. I’m brought back by a hand on my shoulder. Oswin is staring ahead, a small frown on his face and he nods in the direction the road leads. I follow his gaze and pause.

Stretching out across the road, a ways down from us, are garlands hung from posts, looping back and forth across the road. A town shouldn’t be too far if there’s spring garlands here, clearly fresh with bright flowers laced with colorful ribbon. I walk to them, Oswin following behind, and go up on my toes to look at them closer. Sure enough, words are written on the ribbons twined through the vines and flowers. I can make out simple wishes for money, good harvest, love, and then there’s… others. Safety, loved ones to come home, the war to end… These are written on green, black, white ribbons. They’re calling on Merri and Pen to grant these wishes and not their local god. I frown and look over at Oswin, his brows furrowed and frowning even more than me.

He looks down at me and says, “Well. We better get to town and figure out what’s going on, hm? Don’t want to get caught up in this war.” I nod in agreement, a small whisper in the back of my brain like I’m forgetting something. Shaking my head, I follow after Oswin. 

More green ribbons are threaded in as we walk and I slide my hand into Oswin’s, a strange feeling pressing down on my chest. I ignore it as the first buildings come into view. Small wooden houses with animals in pens. Cows, sheep, pigs, horses, chickens. Whatever war there is, it hasn’t touched this area yet, at least not physically. Closer to town, I hear the sound of voices, music, some playful shouting. It’s comforting, soothing some part of my soul that I’d forgotten. I subconsciously take the lead, pulling Oswin towards the noise. There’s people gathered towards the center of the town, clapping along to music and dancing. There’s a couple of booths, food piled on one and small, pretty things laid out on the other. A man notices us as we walk, and comes up to us with a bright smile.

“Oh, hello! We don’t get much in the way of travelers from further south, but I’m sure you’re headed back home, hm?” he says, glancing at Oswin as he says it, smiling brightly. I glance over at Oswin, wondering why the man thinks Oswin is from the north. But instead of sharing that same confusion, Oswin laughs and grasps the man’s arm in greeting.

“Aye, cousin, I hope to get back home to Adaphis before the frost sets in, but I’m afraid we’ve gotten quite lost. Pray, cousin, could you tell us where we are?” he says. The man looks horrified for a moment before nodding, glancing back to the spring festival.

“Ah. Adaphis. You must’ve been down south for a long time, then, friend. Come, some of Zahari’s priests are here. They know far more than us about the war and can give you the best path home,” he says, waving for us to follow him as he turns. Oswin and I glance at each other before following him. 

I watch as girls and boys twirl around each other, the girls’ faces painted with bright colors and the boys wearing a flower crown to match the girl they dance with. I make eye contact with a person across the crowd, wearing a boy’s crown but painted like a girl. They smile at me and wave. I smile and offer a wave in return before being pulled into a building by Oswin.

The inside is slightly smoky from the fire that burns hot despite the warm spring day. I wrinkle my nose at the smell, sour and bitter like lemon and wormwood. Two men sit in a corner wrapped in gray robes. Each of them has a glass orb necklace, magic swirling inside the glass. My hand tingles, wanting to reach for one, but I stay still, watching them as the man introduces them.

“This is Kalix and Agaton. They can help you to get home,” the man assures us. “You two look low on supplies. Afterwards, I can help you find something to help you on your way if you still want to go.” He claps Oswin on the shoulder and nods to me, walking out the door. The fire crackles for a moment as the men watch us, studying us. I watch them in return, tilting my head.

“Hm. I thought the last Tresiccisert died a while ago,” Agaton says, the older of the two. His hair is white, hands wrapped around a walking stick that leans against his shoulder. Kalix nods, his bright eyes piercing me through.

“He did. 200 years ago. Strange how he appears now with a child with no memories and a mark of death,” he says, gaze dropping to my hand, then to my throat. I touch where he’s looking, stilling when I find scar tissue. If this big of a scar is across my throat, then I should be dead. “You wish to go back to Adaphis, don’t you, Oswin Tresiccisert?”

Oswin sighs and nods, sitting in a chair across from them. “Gods, I always forget how unnerving it is to deal with you,” he says. Kalix smiles, amused, as Agaton huffs.

“You won’t be able to get to Adaphis in time,” he says, waving a hand like he’s swatting a fly. “The Golden General’s Army is too close to it. If you’re determined to head north, Wishlight is your safest bet. Too many god-touched places around it for the Golden Army to get there any time soon. All the refugees from the north are going there. But if you want to stay safe, you should stay here or head back south. If you go north, there will be much to lose.” Agaton watches us, scowling, as we absorb this information. Oswin’s eyes narrow.

“Hm. Understood. Aeron, go outside. Enjoy the festival. I’ll find out more, okay?” he says, glancing at me. I hesitate before nodding agreement. The door swings slowly shut, but I can still hear Oswin say, “What do you mean the Golden Army is still here?”