Everything was cold. Matthaeus couldn’t move or see, but he could feel. Something heavy lay over him, and he wanted to shiver, but couldn’t bring his body to even do that. His thoughts were a mess, swirling about, unable to settle onto anything in particular.

Just where was he, again? He remembered… nothing? No, running, the feeling of being chased, and then cold.

A warmth spread across his forehead, a glow that he instantly latched onto. The sensation pulled him out of the half-sleep like state he had been in, and he slowly opened his eyes.

The elderly woman sitting beside him removed her hand from his forehead, looking down at him with a smile.

“Good afternoon, dear. How do you feel?”

What? He could see her lips moving and hear her clearly, but she was speaking in a language he didn’t know. He could make out good afternoon, and recognized the language as Arkasian, but beyond that…

He sat up in the bed, but was struck by dizziness, and had to lean his head back against the headboard. When he came to, the woman, Matilda he remembered, was leaning closer to him and looking very concerned. She started talking again, but this time he couldn’t even make out a single word.

She grew even more flustered when he tried to climb out of the bed, but he slid off the far side before she could stop him. As his bare feet hit the floor he winced, feeling aches all over his body and a splitting headache from under the bandages on his forehead. He glanced down at himself, slowly taking in the many bandages around him. While he hurt all over, he still seemed to be able to move just fine for now.

Matilda stood with her arms crossed, staring at him sternly from the other side of the bed. Even without being able to understand her words, he could tell she wasn’t pleased that he was out of bed...

But at the same time, he really didn’t want to lay back down. His memories of the last few days were fuzzy at best, but he couldn’t remember seeing anything outside of his own room. But now he was better! He felt so awake all of a sudden, and light! Like he could just run out of this room and not stop.

He took a single step forwards, unsure of where he was going but just needing to move, and stopped with a wince as his ankle spiked with pain in protest. He lost his balance as the ankle gave out under him and fell onto his backside, which hurt much more than the ankle had.

Matilda gasped and was at his side a second later, speaking too quickly for him to make out even a word. She was holding him, patting him down all over and tenderly checking his ankle. Matthaeus sat quietly and watched, his amber eyes never even blinking.

From the hallway he heard footsteps quickly approaching, before the door was thrown open. The elderly man, Arthur, that he could vaguely remember meeting once or twice came into the room, quickly questioning Matilda about something.

As the old man kneeled down in front of Matthaeus and started checking him as well, Matthaeus’ attention was caught entirely by the other two men standing intimidatingly in the doorway.

One was dark haired, but greying at the temples. He had a thick black beard, broken only by a large scar across his cheek that turned the hairs of his beard white where they met. His eyes were dark, with thick, brooding eyebrows that seemed permanently set low in an inquisitive glare. He was tall, much taller than anyone else in the room, and even from under the black armour he wore, Matthaeus could see the man’s build was muscular.

The second man was much younger, and smaller. He wasn’t short by any means, but seemed so small by comparison that he looked as though he could disappear into the larger man’s shadow. While Matthaeus couldn’t remember anything from before he was chased into the river, he knew that he had never seen someone who looked like the young man. He had wavy copper coloured hair, and bronze eyes that shone brightly even in the afternoon lighting. His skin as well was a richer colour than anyone else in the room, still light but a deeper tan colour, like he had spent every day of his life outside in the sun.

Both of the men wore distinct black armour and riding cloaks, although the sets were different in design. The older man’s was heavier, with thicker padding and visible metal plates on the surface. The younger man’s was more form fitting, and looked more like a layering of black, fish-like scales overlapping each other. It caught the afternoon light through the window and glinted dangerously in the light.

The mismatched group of people began talking, a rush of words that had Matthaeus’ head spinning trying to make sense of it all. He opted instead of paying attention to tune it all out, staring quietly at the floor in front of him…

“Hello,” a gruff voice suddenly said, not in Arkasian, but in Norlin.

Matthaeus’ head instantly shot up, eyes locking onto the scary looking dark haired man by the door. He stared back, as the room went silent around them.

“...Not a talker, then?” The man asked.

Matthaeus was frozen, lost in thought. Who was this man? Why was he here all of a sudden? Why did he speak Matthaeus’ language, why…

“You do speak Norlin, no?”

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Matthaeus nodded slowly, uncomfortable with the amount of attention he was receiving. Everyone was watching him, and he wanted nothing more than to crawl out of the way, tuck himself into some corner where no one could see him…

“Good, then let’s make this quick.” The man said. “Who are you?”

“Matthaeus,” he answered slowly.

The man raised an eyebrow at him.

“Just Matthaeus?”

He nodded, more readily this time.

“Well then, just Matthaeus, what can you tell me about how a Norlander like you wound up in Arkasia?”

Matthaeus paused again, trying to think. How had he gotten here?There was just… the running. Any time he tried to think back, it was all blank, but for that. That single memory, and a few scattered dreams and waking moments here in the room.

“I don’t remember.”

“Do you remember how you wound up in the river?” He asked, not missing a beat. He didn’t even seem surprised by Matthaeus’ earlier answer.

“I was being chased.”

Again, the man didn’t seem surprised.

“Chased by what?”

He thought back to the things that had chased him. He remembered dark fur, teeth, those glowing orange eyes…

“Was it a wolf-like monster?” The man asked, after Matthaeus had taken too long to respond.

The image of one of the beasts being tossed along in the river with him surged into the front of his mind. It was hard to remember clearly, but… it had looked dog-like, for sure.

He nodded.

The dark haired man sighed, before switching back to Arkasian and addressing the others in the room. Matthaeus watched as their expressions turned to concern and then shock, sneaking glances at him from the corners of their eyes.

It was several minutes later when the elderly couple rose to their feet, and offered him a hand. He climbed to his feet on his own, which elicited a frown from Matilda.

"We'll be eating soon," the dark haired man said in Norlin. "I have more questions for you later, but it can wait. The elders here are rather upset with me for interrogating you already, so soon after you woke up. Make sure to say thank you to these two, they've done more for you than you know."

He stared back in response, until the man turned to leave the room, and the rest followed soon after.

----------------------------------------

It was several hours later.

They had been lead down a small staircase in the main room, Matthaeus staring wide eyed around at dozens of people laying sick in their cots until they were out of sight. The basement was dimly lit and cold, but had a small kitchen in the back, where they had sat to eat.

Matilda had made some sort of vegetable stew, which Matthaeus initially wasn't interested in... until he took a sip. The moment he did, his stomach growled fiercely, and he began digging in like an animal, an intense hunger he hadn't realised he had before demanding seconds, thirds, and even a fourth serving.

Matilda seemed happy to see him eating so much, and even the others at the table seemed amused by his appetite. Still, by the time he had finished the fourth bowl and was still hungry, he was too shy to ask for another, and sat quietly instead.

The others had been politely chatting through supper while he was eating, not that he minded. He couldn't understand what they were saying, anyways. Although, noticing him being so quiet, Matilda and Arthur had both spared the time to include him in what little ways they could. Those mostly came as short lessons in Arkasian, as they held up a simple object for him to see, before repeating its name until he had learned it.

Simple things, like bowl, or spoon, were slowly being added into his understanding of the language. He was a fast learner, although he couldn't quite make the sounds perfectly... the Arkasian language used harsher sounds than he was used to. He rolled his r's too much, and couldn't seem to make a j sound at all.

"Matthaeus," Griff said, during a lapse in the Arkasian lessons.

He looked over at the dark haired man, knowing where this was going.

"I need you to tell me everything that you can remember. Don't leave anything out, understand?" He asked. Griff spoke firmly, but was almost gentle in how he asked.

Flashes of memories came to mind. Running from the beasts, the pounding of his heart and his feet, feeling like his lungs were going to give out at any minute... the fear of being chased. While outwardly, he didn't show any signs of it, inside he shivered.

"...I remember running from monsters," Matthaeus answered back slowly, quietly.

"Where were they chasing you?"

"In the woods."

"What woods? Did you know those woods? Were they near home?" Griff asked, leaning forwards in his chair and resting his elbows on the table.

Matthaeus shook his head.

"They were scary woods. Everything was wrong... it wasn't anything like home," he replied, then paused. Nothing like home...? How did he know that? He tried to remember what home felt like, or looked like, but drew a total blank.

Griff's eyebrows narrowed.

"What do you mean wrong?"

"Everything was glowing. There was no moon but I could still see."

Griff sucked in breath, while the others at the table looked on in concern. Griff said something in Arkasian, and Reyland, who had been leaning his chair back against the wall, nearly fell over.

"Matthaeus, do you know what the Blight is?" Griff asked him very seriously.

He shook his head.

"It showed up around ten years ago... probably around the time you were born," Griff began. "It's a forest, just like what you described, and a place filled with monsters. It's completely blocked off Arkasia from the Norlands, and no one who enters it ever comes back, do you understand?"

After Matthaeus nodded, he continued.

"I don't think we're going to be able to find your family, or where you came from, because I suspect it's in the Norlands. And I suspect that you, boy, have managed to cross the Northern Bridge, to come to Arkasia. But how that's possible, I have no idea."

Griff leaned back in his chair, and sighed.

"Something like that... it really shouldn't be possible. But I've got a sinking feeling that I'm right and I wouldn't have lived to be as old as I am if I hadn't learned to trust my gut on these things."

Matthaeus stayed silent, listening intently as Griff brought out a small silver flask and took a sip. Even from across the table, the smell of alcohol made Matthaeus' nose and eyes water. Matilda shot the dark haired man a glare, and for the first time, he looked apologetically back at her.

"How do your injuries feel?" Griff asked abruptly, no longer looking quite so contemplative or serious, but just as determined. Matthaeus clenched his hands into fists a few times, feeling the tightness of the bandages, but the aches in his bones underneath were mostly faded. He stil felt stiff, and walking too fast hurt, but he could move.

"I'm okay," was all he said back.

"Good," Griff said, putting the flask away under his cloak. "Tomorrow, we're going for a walk down the river. There's a few things I want you to see that might help you remember something."

Matthaeus thought about it for a second, before nodding.

He really hoped Griff was right.