Bile spews from my mouth and splatters against the tree trunk I am leaning against. My head swims, forcing me to sink to my knees. I saw myself back there in the grove.

I saw my childhood self.

"Impossible." I moan and this bare amount of effort sends another wave of nausea through my body. Before I can do anything, my stomach clenches with ferocious intensity, My guts transform into one giant knot, forcing out another wave of puke through my mouth.

"Augh." I wordlessly mumble, the stream of puke reduced to a trickle. All strength leaves my body and I collapse on my back, blinking the tears from my eyes and staring at the starry sky. What's going on here? What's happening to me?

But the stars remain as silent as ever. The darkness yields none of the answers I seek.

"Mac." Ramon whispers as he approaches me, leading our horses behind him. Loaner makes a soft grunt, as if commiserating on my existential breakdown.

"Ramon." I reply flatly, letting my attention drift away, riding the starlight.

"Are you alright?" my friend asks, bending over to look me right in the face.

"No." I answer honestly, "Something is wrong with Springvale. Or maybe something is wrong with me."

"Why did you run, Mac?" Ramon's voice is calm, reassuring. I focus on it, keeping myself anchored to the moment.

"We saw my past, Ramon." my voice wavers, as weak as a scrap of paper, "That was me courting Mary before I left for Deshawn City."

"You sure?" Ramon says, his tone and gaze level.

"Yes." I nod, "Its exactly as I remember it. Or what I can remember anyway. What are they doing now?"

"They started taking off their clothes." Ramon leans on his haunches more comfortably, "I decided to give those two some privacy."

"Huh. That's different." I smile wearily, "I don't remember ever getting that far. We danced in the moonlight. That's it."

"Well, that's proof that whomever that boy is," Ramon muses, "he isn't you. And this isn't a replay of your past either, isn't it?"

"Yeah, I suppose." I answer back, mind starting to race, "But if that boy isn't me, then who am I? What are my memories really? Was Ma telling the truth? Was that woman my mother at all?"

"You want to get a drink?" Ramon suddenly suggests, abruptly changing topic.

"No." I demur, shutting my eyes, "Just need to rest for a bit."

"I need a drink. I'm heading for the tavern." Ramon says as he gets back up and ties the horses to a tree, "I'll get a drink for you too. Just watch our mounts for a bit, OK?"

"Sure." I respond, opening my eyes just in time to see Ramon vanish into the darkness. Nice going, he probably thinks I'm crazy. Scratch that, I think I might be going crazy as well.

My attention drifts back to the canopy of trees, their branches swaying gently in the wind. Tiny pinkish buds grow along the branches, ready to bloom at any moment.

"So its starting again isn't it?" I remark, my eyes hypnotized by the buds. Like the endless spring that Springvale is blessed with, the trees of the Evergreen Grove never lose their green.

Except under one circumstance.

Whenever the trees break into flowers, it means that they will lose all their leaves within the next few hours. Its a rare event, something like once every three hundred years or something. The blooming occurred the day before I left for Deshawn City. By the time I began making my way out of the village, the trees had been reduced to nothing more than wooden skeletons, a pale shadow of what they once were. So this would make it twice I would bear witness to the blooming. But I'm also sure that three hundred years have not passed during my time away from Springvale.

Then again, I'm not sure I know what anything means anymore.

There's some rustling from the foliage and I see Ramon emerge with a harried looking expression on his face.

"That's fast." I comment, noting that he is distinctly not bringing any drinks with him. The only thing Ramon is carrying is a newspaper under his armpit.

Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

"We've got a problem." Ramon says without preamble, tossing the newspaper at me.

"Its the Springvale Herald." I say, taking a quick glance at the newspaper, "Just some local village rag. What about it?"

"Check the date." Ramon instructs, his entire body wound as tight as a spring.

"What the hell?" I exclaim in shock, taking in the small print on the top of the newspaper, "This has to some kind of joke."

"Its not a joke. I passed a vendor's stall on my way to the pub," Ramon elaborates, "they were bringing in tomorrow's newspapers so I decided to get a copy."

"It could still be a joke." I insist, burning a hole into the newspaper with my gaze.

"There were a whole stack of freshly printed newspapers." Ramon wipes of the sweat dripping down his chin, "Each paper has the same date."

"But the date on the newspaper is -" I begin to protest again before Ramon cuts me off.

"More than a decade before what should be tomorrow's date." he says, "No one else was making a fuss about the newspapers either."

"Did you see any members of the Order about?" I ask, hurriedly picking myself back up.

"Nuh uh." Ramon shakes his head, worry all over his face, "Its as if the Order was never in this village in the first place."

"The church. We need to check the church." I say urgently, mounting Loaner, "That would be the one place we would be able to find them. Since we can't get any answers out of my mother or any of the other villagers, we can just ask the Order. At worst, we will just pay them for the information."

"You mean I'll pay them for the information." Ramon cracks a joke, but there's no humor in it. The weirdness that we've experienced has begun to stress him out as well.

Our steeds make their way down the deserted streets of Springvale, the village completely quiet except for the sound of revelry coming from the neighborhood near the tavern. Farmers and tradesmen blowing off some steam after a hard day's work. With the road clear, both Ramon and I make good speed to the church, a humble stone structure that looks comparatively grand amidst the small town charm of Springvale. Attached to the church is a tower, housing the bell that is used to mark the beginning and end of services.

"Windows are dark." Ramon mutters worriedly, "No one is inside."

"We've already come this far." I grunt as we hitch our horses and make our way to the church's entrance. I tug at the door and it refuses to budge. I then try knocking it, hoping for someone to answer. Once again, nothing.

"Screw this." I curse. I reinforce my strength using magic and shoulder ram the door. The lock easily gives way and the door opens without any further complication.

Both of us stumble in the dark before I manage to find a candlestick by groping about the wall. A snap of my fingers elicits a shower of sparks, lighting the candle and weakly illuminating the interior of the church. Two rows of wooden pews are arranged neatly before the pulpit. Other than a red carpet running in between the rows of seats, the church's only other decoration is a large painting depicting a single faceless man, descending from the heavens to the bleak world below.

"That's Enn, isn't it?" Ramon breathes, "The first man created by Ea."

"Sure is." I agree, not really paying attention. The painting had been installed in the church ever since my youth, though that should not come as a surprise by now. More concerning is how clean the church's interior is. Its obvious that the place is still in use. But not by the Order. There's no sign of the church being converted into an office or barracks, the two main uses the Order has for derelict churches and temples. Ramon clasps his hands in prayer before the painting, before joining me in my exploration of the church.

"Never thought you bothered with the creator gods." I remark as we walk down the row of pews toward the pulpit. Behind it were some bookshelves and cabinets by the wall that I wanted to check out.

"I don't pray to them." Ramon replies in a hushed voice, "I just enjoy the legends and lore connected with the creator gods as well as to the heroes."

I nod absentmindedly, recalling the nude statue Ramon had in his house of Hero Gallant and his lover. I had originally thought that piece of decor was part of Ramon being a sex obsessed pervert, but it seems to be connected to an actual interest of his.

"Let's see." Ramon mutters, glancing through a bookshelf, "Books on myths. Read this one already. And those as well. There's some tomes of scripture, nothing really interesting."

"This cabinet is just incense and candles." I droll back, moving on to the next cabinet in line, "Keep looking for some sign of the Order. We know they were here. They can't have disappeared into thin air."

"None of these books are relevant, Mac." Ramon complains, "Its all standard church stuff. Like I said earlier, its like the Order was never in Springvale."

"Shit." I curse, pulling out a long object wrapped in white cloth from the cabinet I'm examining.

'What is it?" Ramon chirps, turning away from the bookshelves and checking the pews instead.

My heart beats in trepidation as I begin to unwrap the object. But deep inside, I know what it is.

"A Springvale Sword." my voice trembles as the cloth falls away. Tied to the scabbard is a simple note that I recognize all too well.

To Mac. From your loving parents.

Its my sword. As clean and unmarked as the day I received it. My stomach churns and I shove it back into the cabinet. I can't risk another freak out now. Not while Ramon and I are in the middle of a breaking and entering.

"Mac." Ramon calls to me, bent over one of the pews, "Over here."

I turn toward my friend, grateful for the distraction as he pulls something out from under that piece of furniture.

"An Order satchel." Ramon grabs the item and tries to open it, "The clasp is not budging though."

"The proof we need." I exhale in relief, "The Order was here all along. Let me see that."

Ramon hands the satchel over to me, the rope used to secure it to the owner's back well in the process of rotting away. But the leather of the satchel itself remains tough, pulsing with magical energy.

"Its enchanted." I inform Ramon of my findings, "The Order Knight who owned the satchel wanted to secure it against thieves and the elements."

"Can you do anything about the enchantment?" Ramon asks, licking his lips nervously.

"Not good enough at counter magic." I furrow my brow, turning the satchel over to examine it more thoroughly.

And what Ramon and I see sends a chill through our spines. Scratched into the leather, most likely by someone's finger, are a pair of words, their meaning clear.

SAVE YOURSELVES