Wan's vision blurred away like the psychedelic effect of remembering memories. The world drifted out of its borders. Distressful darkness enclosed his surroundings in a veil of obstruction. He tried hard; he wanted to see what had happened to his mother. He walked forward in the void, only to hear his own footsteps resonating against the spiraling abyss of black and white. His environment was a helix of energies streaming in a hurricane of hope. Empty and desolate.

Voices. He heard reverberating voices attempting to slice into the shell of darkness. But against the rumbling of his own mind, the details were too blurry to contemplate on the words. They sounded like a woman's voice.

"W--------------"

Streams of blank thoughts bombarded Wan's senses. Where was he? What was this place? Where did his mother go? What happened to Takira?

What was happening? Was he dreaming? Did he get killed by the oncoming strangers?

He clutched his chest.

'No, definitely not a dream,' he thought. Pain penetrated through his body, warming up his heart.

"Wa-----------"

The voice. That voice. Who was it? What was she saying?

Wan's dead senses groveled their best to overcome the blanket of isolation. He wanted to burst out of his body just to see what was happening outside, even if it meant he would die. Trapped by his own senses.

"Wan! Wa-----"

"Huh?"

Finally, a crack appeared in the tide. Wan commanded his mind to focus. To return back to normal.

"Wan! Wan! Are you okay? Wan!"

"Aaaaah!" Wan was back, screaming at the top of his lungs.

He allowed a few more seconds for his senses to calibrate with the environment.

"Wan! What happened to you?"

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He turned his face at the voice, still lying on the coarse ground. It was Takira; she looked older.

'No, it can't be Takira. How come she looks older? And how come…' Wan paused in his head. His own hands, they were bigger, too. Was he older as well? He sat up, cross-legged. In front of him lay the dilapidated ruins of a house he once called his own.

"Wha-what has happened?! Why is…" he stood up, this time, noticing that he was now taller. "Why is everything broken?"

"Wan! Quit it. You're scaring me."

"What-who-when…"

Takira grabbed Wan's shoulders.

"…" Wan's tongue suddenly forgot how to produce words. His ashen irises locked onto the icy blue ones of hers. His eyes observed the beauty of Takira Honé.

"It's been five years since our village was razed. Did you forget, Wan?" she explained. Her eyes did the rest of the talking. Twinkling moonlight danced in her corneas.

It was night time.

No, not her eyes; Takira had been gifted with the talent of telepathy.

"I… I don't understand," Wan uttered out again, slightly relieved that his tongue was working fine. Although his voice had matured into a wonderful wine of heroic boldness with a youthful tune to it.

Takira sighed, letting go of his shoulders.

"You don't understand," Takira agreed. "But I do. Five years ago, at this very spot, you had encountered the greatest shock in your life… so far," she averted her eyes from his for a moment, out of remembrance of greater tragedies that may have occurred beyond that point in time. "No wonder why you collapsed right as soon as we investigated your home."

"F-five years?" Wan took a step back, caressed his forehead and tried to shoulder the burden of sudden realization of the fact. "It's been five years already?"

"Yes, I'm sorry, perhaps it was a bad idea to let you visit your place," she dropped her eye level before continuing, placing a hand over her chest to shield the blows of the past against her heart. "On this very day of this month, at this same village, all of us had lost many of our loved ones."

"I-I still don't get it…" Wan muttered to himself.

"C'mon! Wan! Quit it, please," Takira urged. Wan noticed she was holding a sword and dressed in the red attire of—

"Wait! I think I recognize the clothes you're—" Wan looked at his own arms and legs. He, too, was dressed in a similar outfit.

"Sssshh!" Takira clutched Wan's mouth, pointing towards his weapon resting on decaying grass beside him. A spear glaive – Wan's dedicated weapon. "I believe your memory needs to be refreshed," she lowered her vocal volume. "But for now, please do as I say. I sense gâguns nearby."

Having no time to think, Wan calibrated to the situation. His eyes drew a ring of suspicion over this woman who claimed to be Takira.

He picked up his weapon.