S1, 03 Lost Memories (LB) (January 28, 2016)

The boy trudged through the endless expanse of nothing, his feet heavy and his head low. Footprints trailed behind him, like remnants in sand. That was what he walked on; sand. An endless sea of cool yellow dust, not a soul in the world.

Nobody but him and the sand.

Faintly in the distance, he thought he saw people, walking away from him. He tried running, but they kept moving further away. Soon, they seemed to evaporate into the air, leaving him alone again.

He didn't know what to do, so he did nothing. Just stood as time ran past.

Suddenly, a woman appeared from the aether, clad in gleaming white. Her hair was blonde and flowed down her back, though the boy couldn't see her face. It was if her face was just out of reach; so memorable once but now forgotten. She reached down a hand and spoke, her voice soft and gentle.

Marsha: "What do they call you?"

Dustin: "D-dd- Dustin, Miss." The boy stammered, afraid that if he said the wrong thing, this wonderful woman would leave forever. But she continued, speaking each word calmly.

Marsha: "My name is Marsha, Marsha Vorn. How would you like to come with me?"

Dustin: "Please Miss, you're much better company than the sand."

She chuckled at the boy's comment.

Marsha: "Come. Let's go home shall we?"

The boy, Dustin, nodded and turned suddenly to a large door, the only solid thing in the shifting, endless plain. He took the woman's hand and together they went through the door into an uncertain future.

The scene changed.

The boy was older now, dressed in his finest clothes as faceless people rushed all around him, talking and chatting with each other. Nobody was paying him any attention, so he turned his gaze to the sand on the floor.

It had snuck up between the floor tiles and he shook his head as he realised how much work it would be too clean it after the whole fancy affair was over.

Many ambassadors and supporters were here tonight, toasting something called 'Aurelia'.

He saw his mother, weaving around the diners like the professional she was, balancing a tray with ease. She glimpsed Dustin and smiled as she made her way over. She put her free hand on his shoulder before speaking.

Marsha: "Hey honey, it's a big crowd tonight! Hardly know where to start, do we?"

Dustin shook his head as he returned her grin. She re-positioned the tray before continuing.

Marsha: "I'm sorry to ask you honey, but could you do me a big favour please?"

Dustin nodded immediately, hoping to help his mama as much as he could.

Marsha: "Could you please go downstairs and grab the big empty tray? We need it for all the empty glasses. Can you do that by yourself?"

Dustin nodded again, eager to impress his mother. He could do anything if he put his mind to it.

After all, he was growing up. Everyone told him that.

He turned around and marched to the door leading downstairs. It seemed very familiar to him, very solid in the room of shifting walls. He turned and waved at his mother. She waved back, then bustled back through the crowd.

Dustin closed the door and searched for the dish in the deserted rooms. Time seemed to drag on as he searched, so that when he finally found the dish, he didn't quite know how long it had taken him.

Nevertheless, he picked it up, positioned it very carefully and began crossing the endless desert till he found the door again.

Yet somehow the door was different. Larger; more ominous than before. As if it wanted to remain closed, hiding something from Dustin. The boy hesitated, but he steeled himself and opened the door, taking in the scene before him.

It was a massacre.

No other words fit the scene. People lay sprawled everywhere, knives gleaming from broken bodies and blood soaked limbs. Spent bullet casings littered the ground, their lethal steel already spent.

Everyone was gone, even the servants who barely knew what Aurelia was. Just trying to make ends meet. That was it. And now...they were all gone.

And right in the middle of the room lay his mother, sprawled out and breathing softly, a bullet in her chest.

"Mama?" He said with shock, as if this hadn't really happened. He ran to her side. Held her close. Tears rolled down his face, flowing like rivers over his cheeks.

The woman managed to turn her head slightly and Dustin cried out in hope. For a moment, a brief, fleeting moment, he thought she would be fine. But all the woman could manage was a slow, sad smile and five, soft and gentle words.

"I'll...always... love you... Dusty...."

She went slack in his arms. Dustin cried. He cried, wept, prayed and held onto his mama with all he could. The room was colder, but nothing else mattered now. Nothing could possibly matter anymore.

He barely heard the footsteps. Slowly, so very slowly, Dustin turned his tired head, opened his tear-stained eyes and stared.

Three figures marched through the carnage. All three were clad in the deepest blue, and each had faces black as night, like swirling mists of darkness. Two held knifes, but the other carried a gun.

He had killed his mother.

All at once the room emptied of the bodies, like they were never there.

But the blood remained, and began to move. It crept until it surrounded the three assassins, almost accusing the three figures.

They were the monsters that had turn the gathering to a graveyard. They were the ones who had killed innocent servants and caterers in cold blood. They were the ones with blood on their hands. They hadn't hesitated for a second with his Mama.

They wouldn't hesitate with him.

Dustin willed his legs to move, but they wouldn't budge. Fear had him in it's net, but so did the sand. It hardened around his feet, fixing him to the ground.

The oldest assassin, clearly the leader, moved closer to Dustin. He moved with discipline and breathed experience. Dustin turned his head, focusing only on what had once been his mother. Fresh tears blended with the fear.

The man stopped next to him and turned slowly. Sweat and tears streamed down Dustin's face, his brain willing him to move but his body paralysed.

All of a sudden, the only thing Dustin could see was the man. And the door.

The man, the monster, spoke only once; changing the boy's life forever.

"Come with me, lad."

"Welcome to the Core."

Dustin screamed as the man opened the door and blinding light erupted from within as the light poured out and the world began turning dark and Dustin screamed and screamed and-

Dustin opened his eyes. He blinked twice before taking in his surroundings. He was back in the Skarr, lying on his back and bathed in the blue glow of night. He was sweating furiously and his throat was hoarse. The soft moonlight stung his eyes and he realised he'd been crying.

He willed the dreams away, wishing they were nightmares. But he knew that they weren't. Dreams faded away.

Memories didn't.

Dimly, he was aware of a door opens behind him. Brom stumbled out, a worried look on his face. He had clearly been asleep, but something had woken him. He took in the scene before speaking, his voice unusually soft.

Brom: "Dustin, mate, are you alright?"

Dustin was anything but, but he forced a smile onto his face and stood up, shrugging off the fall as if it had been nothing.

Dustin: "I'm fine Brom. Just a nightmare, that's all."

Brom: "Could've fooled me. Your screaming would have woken the dead!" He said, his humour returning as he realised his friend was alright.

Dustin: "Hey, I only screamed because I fell of the stump. Perfectly normal."

Brom: "You were screaming for half a minute. That must be a pretty tall stump."

Dustin: "Well, what if I had seen someone and was screaming at them? You don't know that I wasn't?"

Brom: "Were you screaming at someone?"

Dustin frowned, though kept his grin steady.

Dustin: "Well, not exactly. But you had no way of knowing that. You came blundering out without any precautions. What if someone had overpowered me and was waiting for you?"

Brom shrugged. "Dustin, I've never met anyone yet who could 'overpower' you, and anyone that could probably wouldn't be living in this place. Perhaps if they had a gun, but then I would have heard the shots, wouldn't I?"

Dustin nodded reluctantly. Brom moved passed him, toward the gun and barricade. He turned and resumed his conversation.

Brom: "Duster, you had a bad dream. It happens to everyone, and the only way to be rid of them is with a proper rest. It just so happens that your dreams have very good timing. You should've woken me for watch an hour ago! So, get in there and get some rest. 'Ride the nightmare', as my old man used to say."

Dustin: "I'll try Brom. Thanks, and good night."

Brom tipped his head before turning back to the gun as Dustin began walking toward the hut, the smile dropping from his face.

That dream had plagued him for most of his life, the lost memories always playing in his subconscious. He could remember his adopted mother and the attack that night.

But he could never picture any faces, not even his own. That part was a blank for him, as if his mind couldn't handle the pain of seeing his mother's dying expression again. Or seeing the people that had lost their lives at the hands of monsters.

The assassins faces were different. Every nightmare, they were shrouded, but when he awoke they were clear as day. They had stolen him that night, both his life and his childhood innocence.

They had trained and pushed and broken him. But above all, they had done one thing that had changed him forever.

They'd made him a monster too.

Dustin scowled at nothing and entered the hut, preparing for a mostly sleepless night.