"How can that be?" I exclaim in confusion, "I have a past. Memories. I can't be barely more than a year old!"

"Like your parents gifting you that sword." the Sage comments as he eyes both Ramon and myself evenly.

"Precisely!" I shout with as much enthusiasm that can be mustered. Ramon makes a weak sound of approval, his brows knitting together unhappily.

"Now try thinking about a minor event from your past." the Sage continues, "Something everyday."

"What's that supposed to prove?" Ramon rouses himself from his silence, "Stop trying to confuse us, good sir. What did we ever do to you?"

"Just try it." the Sage urges in his unflappable tone, "A completely unremarkable event from your past. Like what your mothers used to prepare for dinner. Or the color of your favorite shirt."

"That's simple." I scoff, "Ma prepared the same thing every night for dinner. It was ... uh ..."

"It was?" the Sage raises an eyebrow pointedly while Ramon's frown deepens, almost etching itself on to his face.

"Wait! Wait! I have it." I make an irritated noise, "Ma used to make ... it was ..."

"I don't know." Ramon gives up, "Its like there's a gap in my memories."

"Potatoes!" I shout triumphantly as my eyes take in the field of crops we're standing in. I mean, Springvale produces potatoes right? Its literally the one thing we are famous for.

"And how were those potatoes prepared?" the Sage drolls back.

"Uh." I blanch as Ramon stares at me.

"Were you just making stuff up just now, Mac?" Ramon asks with concern, "You can't remember too?"

"It was a reasonable guess?" I shrug helplessly, "But, yeah, my mind's blank as well. Probably because it was such a long time ago."

"Fine. I didn't want to force the matter just yet, but we might as well." the Sage sighs, "Try thinking about something mundane that happened recently."

"That's easy." I pat my chest with confidence, "I work as a magic knight with House Robeur. Did a whole bunch of goblin extermination missions."

"Describe one of those missions for me then." the Sage offers, looking concernedly up at the sky.

"Well, I go out into the Beyond and -" I begin speaking, recalling the dull 'quests' the House saddled on me. A task assigned so many times that I had become heartily sick of it.

"- and that's it." I conclude.

"You didn't say anything Mac." Ramon mumbles nervously, "You just trailed off."

"I think that's enough." the Sage interrupts, "Both of you should by now be aware that time on this world doesn't -"

"NO!" I snap angrily, trying to focus on the memory of one of my vanilla missions, "I CAN REMEMBER THIS!"

The whole world suddenly lurches unpleasantly and a massive migraine stabs deep into my head. My visions swims and Ramon catches me while I sway on my feet.

"Stay with me, Mac!" Ramon shouts as he turns to the Sage, "What the hell is going on here?"

"Something I wanted to avoid." the Sage smacks his lips nervously, "Mac Nair is trying to undo by force the perception filters blinding him. I merely wanted to warn both of you to the presence of the filters, but your friend has taken matters into his own hands."

I'm beyond caring about the conversation going on around me. My guts lurch in protest at the distress gnawing at me, but I have to keep powering forward. Because all my senses concur on one single thing. I need to see this through. Or go back to being blind.

The past. The secret to understanding all of this lies in the past. The more I try to reach for my memories, the worse the migraine becomes. My own brain is rebelling against a direct instruction. What is it trying to hide from me?

The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

"MAC!" Ramon screams in shock, "You're crying blood!"

"We need to leave this place." the Sage suddenly declares with urgency, "Your friend is lost."

"No." I dimly hear Ramon, idly noting the drops of blood falling on to the dirt around my feet. Good man, that Ramon. Never made many friends, but at least the one I had was a keeper.

"Heeeenriiiiiiikkkkk." I groan, recalling the name of my best friend. Henrik is my best friend. He really is.

"MAC! MAC!" that distant shouting blares again, as if across the an impassable gulf. The weight pressing on my head doubles, and there's an unpleasant feeling of slush tossing about inside my skull.

There were three, no four of us. Henrik the battle mage. Amanda, the healer. Myself, the sword master.

And Gallant. Our leader.

I hated Gallant. No, that's not quite right. I hated how Gallant managed to get Amanda to choose him over me. And that's after I helped Amanda out with that dirt bag fiancé of hers. Gallant helped too, sure, but I was the one that made the decision to go after that scumbag, not him.

A pair of hands grab me by the face and yanks upward, forcing me to look at whomever is holding me right in the eye.

Its Henrik.

Then its Ramon.

Henrik again.

"Don't make me force you into the maid uniform again!" an angry bellow assaults my ears. A pin drops on to the cracked surface of my struggling psyche.

And I violently reel backward, consciousness sundering into tiny pieces.

......

I am Mac Nair. First of the sword masters. Trained by the Hero himself.

No. Let's try that again.

I am Mac Nair. Sword Master of House Robeur. This is a fact. It is not in doubt.

Or is it?

The Midnight Stabber could be Mac Nair. My doppelganger in Springvale before the Logos caused genocide is a shoe in candidate for the role as well.

Who then is Mac Nair?

"Amanda knew." my childhood doppelganger materializes in the infinite darkness, muttering morosely, "She knew that she was just a replacement for Mary. That's why although she loved me -"

"Mary's still alive!" the Stabber poofs into existence as well, ranting like the loon that he is, "She suffers because I'm not strong enough to save her!"

"Mary was my first time." the child doppelganger begins to weep.

"MARY! MARY!" the Stabber tears at his clothes in a frenzy.

I put flowers in Mary's hair and we danced beneath the moonlight. Then we kissed and -

I needed to take a shit.

That's right. I had to run off into the woods to take a dump, because of some bad fruit I had eaten the day before. It really spoiled the mood. Mary was pretty pissed. But that was not the most important point.

"I never fucked Mary. Ever." I say as understanding dawns, "That was why Mandor called me an abortion back at the Beyond. I never took the first step in my destiny."

A sibilant hiss breaks into the darkness and at this command, the roiling inky fog parts, revealing a giant viper towering magisterially over the three of us. The Avatar of Hackal.

"That fight between you and the Logos," I address the Avatar directly, "It wasn't the first throw down, wasn't it?"

The Avatar rears backward, delivering a threatening hiss at my impertinence. But there's no fear in my heart. Truth triumphs over all.

"I found you with the corpse of an Order Knight." I throw a finger our accusingly, "Both of you fought the Logos once, and lost."

As the Avatar shrinks down to its miniature form, fixing me with a sullen glare all the while, I know that I've hit the nail on the head. But that was not all, wasn't it? The Avatar had damaged Springvale itself during the original fight. The evidence was all there, like the wrecked church and the small mountain of corpses. The Logos had merely built over the evidence.

Building over the original village with a duplicate. Filling it with copies of the original inhabitants.

A mass resurrection.

The copy was not perfect though, despite appearances. The inconsistencies were merely hidden away, like the aftermath of the first battle. The Logos was not able to restore Springvale to its original state. The proof could only be seen once the church blasted off into the sky during the battle with the bandits.

"No. There was always a sign that the copy of Springvale wasn't perfect." I continue questioning the Avatar, "It was you, wasn't it? Hiding away in that satchel. The Logos could not destroy you. Or even keep you away from Ramon and I."

And if Springvale and its inhabitants could not be restored to our original state, it stands to reason that we might not live the lives we were originally meant to lead.

The legends say that the demon king always returns in due time. The same individual, having multiple lives. And the same conflict with the Hero of the day plays out again once more. Again and again and again.

In that same vein, how many lives had Mac Nair lived, before the Avatar made its appearance?

"You are the boy whose future has already been written." I turn to my youthful doppelganger, "That's why you know your fate."

"And you are the man who seeks his fate," I regard the Stabber sadly, "but can never achieve it. Because you're not Mac Nair. Not really."

So who am I?

I am the man born into a world where time is out of joint. That's what the Sage was hinting at wasn't he? This is a world built for amusement. And the most interesting thing here is the war between the humans and demons. Time has become stuck, just like how the demon king has failed to return. The coils of Hackal have jammed the invisible gears that keep the world turning.

Both Ramon and I cannot grasp our memories because the world refuses to acknowledge them. We were meant to be different people with different lives. So time has been put on hold, until events that are supposed to happen actually happen. Our pasts both occurred, yet paradoxically does not exist.

"My name is Mac Nair." I say solemnly to both the child and the Stabber, "But I am not him. I am what I am. No more and no less."

With this proclamation, my vision begins to swim once more and my eyes lose focus. A powerful force begins to build underneath my feet, pushing me upward. A feeling of exultation overwhelms my very being, as the darkness parts before me, revealing a dazzling ray of light.

"Let that be enough."