"Now that's a good question. The short answer is: I don't know. Nobody does as far as I know. Except, perhaps, for Zaren, but I don't think he's likely to share that information, do you? You really never went through the slums?" Ophelia narrows her eyes suspiciously.


"I don't know what you mean." You answer truthfully.


"The slums are what they are. A broken down place infested with poverty and suffering. Everyone, nobility and peasants alike, appears in the slums. People don't really have children here. Pregnancy is extremely rare among the population, even over large periods of time. Most women will go their whole life without a child. Most pregnancies will end in miscarriages. Almost all of those carried to term will be stillborn. Of the handful of people over our whole history to be born here... I've never met one. I've heard that they turn out strangely, even compared to the average citizen. Nothing specific, just strange. There are rumours that Zaren is one, but I doubt a thing like him was even born, even in another place. To my knowledge there is no one older than Zaren alive today so I guess we'll never know. Anyway, people will simply "arrive" here instead. From somewhere else. Always... Well, you're the exception, but always in the slums. They're not a pleasant place. The slums are filled with screams and the raving of the mad. The "upper ranks" to which you now belong are comprised of the completely sane, or at least the sanest. Zaren... I don't think he's insane. I've known him too long. No, I think he just likes to watch us suffer in our own filth."


"So you can't tell me anything about where I am."


"No, I can tell you much about where we are. I just don't know where where we are is. I can't tell you anything about where any of us came from. Most people don't remember anything and even if they do it's after a long time of searching. But it just tears them apart. It's best to forget if you start remembering."


"But I... I remember.... Something." You're not sure. It's that faint form of memory, but vivid in strange places. More like a story that you've visualized.


"Forget it. Or if you can't forget it, ignore it. At the very least leave it alone. Do not go any further into that abyss."


But this memory is to real to forget. Ophelia looks at you, rolls her eyes, and sighs. "Okay. Tell me about it, but then that's it. Don't ever think you can make it farther into your own mind. It won't end well."


"I remember. I remember... " Words roll of your tongue as you look through the past towards the only memory you can find.

You black

They're big, much bigger than you. The big thing in the middle has pieces coming, and more off of those pieces. They're black.

They're trees. Dead trees.

You smell the air. Cold. Ashy. Fire, savage fire, has destroyed this haven of nature. But it's nature's way.

You feel sad.

You sit on a fallen tree. The fire is gone. Even the ground is cold now.

You look up and see the sky. Gray. Ready to rain its tears on this dead place and put out any of the remaining flames. Little drops already dot the the air. A few fall on your head, as if nature is reassuring you.

They mix with your tears, clearing paths through the soot on your face.

This place is special. You loved something here. What?

Then it's gone. You have it here in your head now, fixed and alive, something you'll remember. There's more...

But that's gone, at least for now.