How could she have mistaken her own mother? She refused to believe it. Memories of her were ingrained profoundly within every nook and cranny of her cognizance. The woman who had nurtured her from an infant within its cradle, to the girl she had matured. It was then their positions in life had been reversed. For mother had grown old and frail, while she was young and healthy.

She'd remember the last moments they spent together, how she would return to their thatched home after completing her rounds. Her bedridden mother would greet her inside a cramped room, opening her arms in anticipation. They'd cuddle, and her homespun robe of wool would tenderly stroke her skin. She'd always ask how the day went, every progress she'd accomplished in the outside world, lest it'd be felicitous nor disappointing.

In turn, she'd ask of her stories, tales of the past as she tuckered herself to rest. Stories of her father's adventures, his feats were one such tale she tended to enjoy. Like how he'd fare to the lands unknown, and appeal to her in the days of yore. But, there are times when she'd ask her mother of her story, and her expression would turn to disapproval.

"Mother... why?" She'd ask her, tugging her overlapping sleeves as she did so. "I want to know more about you..." Despite being beseeched so, she would shake her head and turn away, looking mournful over the distant amour.

But, today's different...

"AAAkh...!" Alma cried out, wailing in agony as she heard a crisp snap of the bone electrocuting her nerves like a flash storm. Her body stirred, jerking around trying to escape, although she was held firm by her arm.

"Hold still...," the woman muttered, kneading her left wrist as she tended them with a heated cloth, fastening it securely. "Why... are you... tending to me?" Asked Alma, a question which she knew wouldn't be responded to, but she felt asking anyhow.

"There it is done... Humph," The woman grunted, unveiling her wrapped arm that originated from her elbow all the way to her wrist. A sore swelling caused by being slapped several times by her own bowstring.

"Thank you...," said Alma, realizing she had rested herself atop of the woman's lap. "Why are you doing this? This is against your instructions, is it not?" Alma inquired.

"Ugh... can you quit it already... stop looking at me with those teary-eyes." The woman pouted. "I'm not your mother... no matter how much you think I am."

"Eh...?" It made her wonder how her character changed all of a sudden. Earlier, she felt like an otherworldly-being looking down on her from above. Now she's talking much more direct, like a human.

"Here...," She sighed, pulling Alma's right arm against her cheek, letting her a feel of it. "W-Wha...?" Alma was shocked by her forceful gesture, but she was even more astonished by how flawless her skin was, unwrinkled unlike what she'd expect from her mother.

"Are you satisfied now...., Child?" The woman reiterated. Though, Alma wasn't entirely convinced there wasn't any proof she had to say otherwise. "Then who- no... what are you?" Alma questioned.

"In your tongue, I am called Iris." She stated her name. "But, I am those you refer to as the firstborn."

"The firstborn....," Alma knew what the woman meant by it. It is as the stories tell. The ones who had been gifted half of the essence of life. The pioneers of the known world. Though she'd never seen them in person as they'd always have a select few followers to speak on their behalf. As a budding kid, Alma had wondered about the first born's form. Their physical appearance, whether they would be any different than those they designate as humans.

But seeing Iris's figure is akin to her mother both in the physique and speech. Only puzzled her even more, could it be mere coincidence? Or does Iris possess the ability to morph herself freely? But if so, for what cause did she choose her mother? Was she trying to win her favor?

"What are you thinking of, child?" said Iris, watching her closely, sensing her doubt as she took hold of her shivering hand. Though Alma was fearful knowing her life meant little in value, she had become fond of her, soothed by the warmth emanating from her.

"I... don't know how to put it, it's hard for me to say that you're not my mother. But at the same time, you feel so alike." Explained Alma. "You said I'd meet my end, yet you saved me. I don't understand," murmured Alma causing Iris to respond with a dampened smile. "Child, what do you know of the firstborn?"She questioned. "Can you tell me?"

"I only know of them from the stories my mother told me, and how the people of Lufenia portray them. They're the ones who erected the first city, the wiser, and they're the protectors of Ether." Alma answered.

"Very apt...," Iris replied, caressing Alma's scalp as she did so. "For we were granted half of the strength and knowledge of the ancients, Thus we took it upon ourselves, the grandeur task of preserving our world." For a brief moment, she continued stroking Alma's hair ere carrying on. "Though it wasn't ideal, we've managed to keep half of this world. However, we've suffered immensely in the process."

The weighty atmosphere around her somehow made it hard for Alma to breathe. Choking her as she impulsively sat upright to seek air.

"Ah... I'm sorry, child," said Iris, as she pulled her in, resting Alma's body against her chest.

#Gasp!

Sounded Alma taking deep breaths as the air around her shifted, uplifting the pressure. (What was that?) She thought to herself, it was as if the reality around them was bent through sheer will.

"Child, are you comfortable?" asked Iris, with Alma solemnly nodding in response. "Good... then, there's something I wish to request of you..., " She continued after a brief pause. "There's one, whom I am seeking in this desolate place... One who possessed the other half of the ancestral knowledge."

"Who is it?" asked Alma perplexingly, unable to perceive such an individual.

"Alcatra Windywamer... have you heard of the name?"

"No..." Alma replied, quite frankly, which made Iris scowl sourly. "Well, no matter! For you're going to help me..., yes? "

"Huh...?"

If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.

Alma didn't know how to react, at some point, it felt she was demanding, but in the end, she waited for an agreement. A mixture of feelings, fear, and ambiguity. What was she supposed to say? To the person who almost killed her? As well as sparing her life?

"Yes...?" She answered with a heavy heart, disputing whether her answer was justified. She felt owing her a personal favor, but it wasn't the deciding factor of her decision.

"Then let us be off, child. The night draws awfully close," said Iris, pulling her along for a walk. Together they left behind the bleak remains of the ruined ship, which was nothing more than a single cabin where they took shelter. While the rest had turned to ash.

"This is all I could do..." Iris replied. "Would you have done it differently for them?"

She was taken by her words, how she subtly showed respect for the deceased. " We'd bury them..., " said Alma "But it's not possible here, is it?"

"That, and other transmogrified beings who roam these lands, " Iris said, her eyes transfixed toward the distant fog, surging from the alps, encroaching them through a gush of wind. "Stay close, child! And don't let your mind be left betwixt worlds,"

Alma didn't know what was about to happen, nor did she understand what Iris meant. She kept holding onto her hand as they were consumed by the thick white haze, blocking all sight. She could no longer see Iris nor herself, she focused her senses to hear, yet it only made her own exerted breathing more apparent.

She tried to get a feel for her, but... her presence had escaped her fingers.

(Could everything have been merely a dream?) She thought to herself. This never happened before, not even once, while she ventured with her father. Perhaps... everything thus far was a hallucination? Conceivably, she's been wandering astray, weakened by hunger and thirst, Iris might never have been real. It was merely a figment of her desire to meet her mother again, who could already be dead...

She shook her head, expelling every notion of the thought. Taking a bite of her wounded arm, letting pain jolt her nerves to the actuality she was in. "This isn't a dream! Aaah!!" Alma roared, in sheer rage and pain. "Who's there!? Who's voice is filling my thoughts?!"

Although she didn't see it, nor hear its call, she knew another presence was lurking around the corners.

"A-Alma? Almaaa!" Echoed the cry of a girl, nearing her. "Is that you? It's getting dark... let's head back to the hamlet together!" It cried out alluringly.

Alma knew it wasn't who she thought it was, it's just messing with her mind. So she pulled out her bow, which was strapped on her back, nocking an arrow's notch on her bowstring, readying to draw at a moment's notice. Thankfully she had lots of practice earlier today, and her muscle memory guided the flow of her actions.

She'd catch the sound of lumbering footsteps trudging through the cold snow, steadily approaching her, and she'd re-adjust her aim towards its source. "Stop making this hard on yourself!" It called out. "For what reason do you need to prove yourself as a hunter?" Alma gritted her teeth out of spite, stretching her bowstring to a full draw. "A hunter should hunt... that's all there is to it, right?" It whispered mockingly, reverberating snarling noises at the back of her mind.

She'd try to banish those negative emotions before they took the toll on her mind. However, she struggles to differentiate it with her own thoughts and regrets. "Alma..." A husky voice shook her by surprise from the other direction, causing her body to veer. Contracting her muscles further straining her injuries. "Ah!" Alma wailed as her body twitched, her outstretched arm unable to maintain the draw weight - blundering her arrow loose, flinging it into the ever-shifting haze.

As if cleft apart by the arrow, the haze parted in two, and to Alma's shock, the open pathway led to a person who stood, catching her arrow with its body. "W-Wha...," said Alma in dismay, hearing the arrowhead gnawing through flesh. Though the arrow didn't manage to pierce through, it had nestled itself within its torso. "Urg... Alma!" The man groaned, clutching the shaft as he toppled.

"H-Huh? F-Father?" Alma cried, noticing the figure calling out to her was none other than him. Rushing over almost immediately to his aid, she gaped as blood began permeating through her father's attire, staining her hands as she held him. How did it turn out like this? Had father been looking for her in this fog?

"Father... I-," stuttered Alma, wanting to explain herself. But her father's hand gestured her to stop, before grabbing onto her by the shoulder. He took a deep breath while his other hand had snapped the protruding shaft, using the sheer force of his thumb.

"Haaah!" The man moaned achingly as his body jerked.

"How could you have shot your own father?" He asked her coldly, daggering her with a heart-rending stare.

"I-I'm s-so sorry father, I didn't know you were here..." Alma leaned in sobbing, trying to impede her father's laceration to no avail. The blood began curdling unnaturally, sticking onto her hands like melted fat, hot and putrid.

"Silly child... you should have released another when you had the chance...." The man chuckled incredulously as a wide grin stretched across further than his cheekbone, elongating his face, rupturing his facial skin apart.

Alma shuddered as she slanted backward, crawling away. But the man got up faster than she could compose herself. It pounced onto her, lunging with his arms bare. Pinning her left and lower torso with his weight and his right arm, while his left arm grabbed her by the throat, strangling her.

She puts out all the effort and strength in her right fist, delivering a punch to his forearm as retaliation. But the man didn't even flinch, while her vision started to become awry from the lack of oxygen. Alma didn't give up though, thinking further to grab the carving knife, she had kept behind her quiver.

"You...'re not my... Father!" Alma spat to the creature's bloodshot eyes, pulling its attention away while she dexterously stabbed his arm, loosening its grip over her.

"Raaarrghh..." It howled in agony as it bled more of its abhorrent fluids.

"Huft!" Alma gasped for air as the creature scratched its own face, deforming it, revealing an open maw from within the man's head.

At that moment, she knew there was no means of escaping. So she dared herself to fight it, no matter how appalling it was. With her left hand free from its clutches, she reaches for her bow on the side.

However, the creature wasn't about to let her do as she pleased as it used its newly exposed limb to chomp on her head.

Luckily, she had grabbed her bow in the nick of time. Placing it within its jaws as a hinge, she prevented herself from being eaten. In the slim opening, she held her dagger with both hands, taking a stab at its old wound, where her arrowhead had burrowed prior.

"GRrrraghhh!" It grunted wildly, crushing her wooden bow into splinters with its bulged masseters, and with full force, it drove its jaws into her flesh, though she tried evading it, her workspace was too narrow to avoid it entirely, allowing it to clamp her nape all the way to her left shoulder.

"Waaaaahhh!" Alma shouted at the top of her lungs, expressing the tremendous pain her nerves felt being munched by rows of teeth within its jaw. In its climax, she'd lost sense of it, half of her upper body.

(I... don't want to die...) Mused Alma, with her life energy draining away. She couldn't really tell whether her body had responded the way she commanded it. But even in her last moments, she tried to take another stab at it, despite not having much strength to spare.

A powerful thrust broke through the thing's ribs, a human fist popping through the torn hole, flinging out charred guts, staining the slush of snow beneath them.

She couldn't identify what had exactly transpired, but she had ever felt this overwhelming sense of warmth before, like a radiant blaze, burning amidst the glacial ice.

"Are you well, child?" Sounded her mother's voice, followed by a dropped thump of a body.

"Aah... mother..." Alma cried out, raining tears and snot, as she reached out her hand, unable to stand nor sense anything else.

"Ugh... You're Okay, child.." The woman muttered mildly annoyed, frowning as she held her close. "This is only a nightmare, and it's about time you wake up."

"H-Huh....?" She continued to sob, throwing hiccups. Alma didn't know what she meant. How was she supposed to wake up?

"Look at me...," The woman commanded, seizing her with an iron grip. "This is only your subconsciousness, now I need you to realize it! And wake up!" She iterated, fervently explicating.

#Snap!

"Haaah!?"

In a blink, the fog around her dispersed while the surrounding bits of corpses evaporated into nothingness. "W-What...?" said Alma, dumbfounded gaping at the familiar surroundings

"Good..." Iris muttered, it seems your consciousness had returned to your body."

"M-My body...!?" Alma turned to see her left arm, and to her surprise, it was well intact without any external injuries. She tried to move it, but it was numb, like a broken limb.

"It's alright, It'll be functioning again soon enough," said Iris as she inspects her body thoroughly. "The numbness is only an after effect."

Iris's reassurance alleviated her worries for Alma trusted her, but she couldn't bear to hold the disturbing emotions within her. How could a nightmare deaden her body like so?

"W-What happened?! W-What was that?" Alma spoke aloud frantically, stuttering in hysteria. "I-It all seemed surreal!"

"It is real... if you let it swallow you," Iris explained nonchalantly. "Weren't you ever taught about the ever consuming fog?"

Her statement struck a chord within her, a far fetched memory, brought back to the present. The ever consuming fog which had eradicated half of their world, she had believed it was only a story, something that she never envisioned of experiencing.

"That's how it feels is when you're consumed by it," Iris continued. "A place where our world's reality separates our consciousness into a dream-like state..., We call it, the nightmare realm."

"And what are those things... inside it?" inquired Alma.

"No idea..." Iris shook her head. "How'd you describe them?"

For a bit, Alma was left speechless. "They're Nothing like I have ever imagined... They toy with other people's emotions...., they're like... demons."

"Then... they probably are..." Iris shrugged, acceptingly.

"H-How do you face such things?" Alma asked her, albeit fearing the answer.

"You fight..." Iris replied, looking at her straight in the eye. "And win...," She continued, clasping Alma's stiffened cheek with both of her hands. "It is the only way to survive."

Their sights locked with one another, exchanging silence for a full second. Alma wanted to ask more from Iris, but the woman soon slumped over onto her. Seemingly weakened from her own encounters.

"It appears, I too have exerted myself...," said Iris. "Child..., I think we need to postpone our journey." She told her as her body weighed Alma down, her eyes dimming lifelessly.

With Iris incapacitated, Alma began the arduous trip to return home. Supporting a body with one hand, and with the sun setting over on the horizon, time was inevitably short.

The long walk was quiet without any wind nor noise except her own groans. She was exhausted more than she could ever describe, but the worry of danger pushed her forward, knowing that there's no place like home.