Zef stood over where he planted his torch earlier in case the gate opened up again.

He dropped the satchel to the side and started stomping down the grass with his large feet. Then he glanced around for dry sticks and some stones to start a campfire. He used the flint and tinder packed in the satchel, and time quickly flew by until he was satisfied with the flame's strength.

Not surprisingly, the fire was also blue. Zef inspected the tinder pouch and noticed the blue shade, which explained the blue sparks when he was trying to light the fire.

He threw some more sticks onto the campfire and savored the warmth spreading from his feet, climbing up to his face; his dark golden eyes shifted towards the canteen, which he grabbed, taking a small sip.

He inspected the wooden canteen as cold freshwater guzzled down his throat, the canteen didn't leak and held the water well, and it was still quite chilly.

Quite the craftsmanship. No writings or carvings though it does have a military touch to it. Simple & efficient with a hard exterior meant for harsh environments.

He stared at his satchel and the sheathed blades and pondered for a bit.

The girl was a fighter, maybe militia or military, yet her stranded weapons and armor were something you would see on the internet or a game—katana blades, tough leather armor, and potions, definitely a fantasy kind of vibe.

Pops and crackles discharged from the supposed dry wood, which stalled his thinking. Zef rolled his neck and finally decided to enter the Nexus to meet the long-eared girl or Elf, as the Caretaker mentioned. He felt both nervous and excited.

Immediately, he sat down in a cross-legged position and started to meditate. He thought of the blade as per the Caretakers' instruction. First, he took a deep breath and concentrated on the image of the dagger. He was somewhat surprised that he could remember the sheath carvings engraved on the metal.

A swirling galaxy with entwined dragons; additionally, some moons and stars covered the blade's hilt. Finally, he focused on the bloody red gemstone which sat on the handle of the knife. It wasn't too big, and it wasn't too small either, but it was captivating.

The more he focused on the images, the more magical it got. The images turned into stirring pictures. The stars glimmered in different hues, from white to blue to bright orange. He watched the galaxy swirl slowly around the two dragons. The more he focused on it, the quicker he entered the state of being afloat.

It didn't take long for him to appear at the bottom of the sea, his feet touching the seafloor. He breathed in the cold water and breathed out bubbles. The act of breathing underwater was now second nature to him. He concluded that the previous experience of being here must have conditioned him, and thus the mind quickly adapted.

Zef kicked off the seafloor and swam upwards like a dolphin, his feet acting like a powerful fin bursting tiny waves till he reached the surface. He couldn't stop the grin from plastering his face. He always did love the sea.

He spotted the dancing light, indicating the campfire yet still surrounded by endless darkness. The waves were light, and it didn't take him long to walk on the shore. The sound of sand crunching under his feet felt good. When he reached the campfire, he spotted many scrolls held by a wax imprint lying on the sand; Zef wasn't impressed by the Nexus bladed imprinted on the wax.

He picked up the first scroll and brushed off the sand, then fixed his man-skirt so it wouldn't tug his nether regions as he sat down by the tree log. He stared at the scroll and tried to determine how to open it without ruining it. A split second later, a memory surfaced within his mind, he was in a living room dangling on someone's knee, and he saw his tiny feet and hands. A projection on the tent's wall was in front of him.

The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

The Archives Channel was on, and the show talked about how the ancient Egyptians created scrolls from papyrus. A scene where a researcher cracked open a wax using a tool while holding the scroll carefully with his other hand. Zef turned to look behind him to see who he was sitting on, yet he already knew the answer based on the large blue toga under his body. He turned to look at a lopsided grin attached to a scorched and bloodied face, broken spectacles dangling from a split nose. His grandfather stared at him and just kept grinning.

Zef screamed and quickly closed his eyes; the memory soon withdrew as the sound of fire cracking registered in his ears. He opened his eyes, still sitting on the log. Zef dropped the scroll and grabbed his face with both hands, and tried to calm himself. First, his mother's burned figure, now his grandfather's bloody grin. The memories he tackled for years and hid at his mind's deepest and darkest pits have come back.

As the memories resurfaced, deep shame and guilt lingered in his heart. He gasped for air as if suffocating; his body shivered. He was having a panic attack, and Zef knew he was sinking and sinking fast. He stared at his right hand, especially towards his thumb, a claw lengthened, impulse told him to do the deed to relieve him of his shame and guilt, which he did thoroughly as drops of blood fell onto the scroll beneath his feet.

Pain riddled his chest, and he cursed lightly, but he felt better; he was out of it. Still, this wasn't good. His PTSD was coming back stronger. The Caretaker may have altered his mind and body, but it didn't eliminate his broken persona and the luggage he carried. He may have gained terrific cognitive abilities, such as memory enhancement and faster-thinking speed, but it came at a cost.

Now memories of his childhood assailed his mind, memories which he didn't want to remember, and now it was worse, his nightmares appeared in his wake.

He got up from his seat and cursed the Caretaker again and at his sloppy job of altering his brain. Zef called him deplorable names to make a sailor blush, hoping that the Caretaker would wake from his sleep. Finally, he stopped. He was still angry but shoved that emotion aside, got back to the task at hand, and sat down, picking up the now spattered bloody scroll, which he dropped earlier.

"I just have to be careful," he murmured to himself, "keep myself busy, watch out for anything that will rekindle these old memories and tire myself to sleep, the nightmares will go away, and things will be bearable just as I have been doing for the last five years."

Zef knew with his boosted cognitive abilities that things would be more difficult; words and images could trigger these unwanted memories if he thought about them. He just had to be careful until he found another solution; only time will tell.

Maybe there's a potion in here, one that would make you forget.

Zef held the scroll carefully and pressed the wax print lightly until it cracked and then used his claw to flick off the broken pieces and delicately unrolled the scroll. He stared at vague letters which he didn't recognize; Zef was about to curse again but instead bit his tongue as the letters turned into motes of light. The scroll disappeared, and a screen appeared in front of him. A transparent blue screen with letters he could read, Zef was so shocked that he didn't jump off his log this time.