It was dark. So dark. Not because it was evening, but because a blanket of sickly green smoke covered the forest as the trees were consumed in Greek fire. Ash watched strangely detached as draiads futilely tried to preserve their life forces. Yet, this was not the strangest part of the ethereal scene. The strangest part, the part that tugged at a piece of Ash he had almost forgotten, was the firefighters. A hoard of mortal firefighters, clad in fireproof suits and gaudy gas masks, were also frantically trying to extinguish the eternal flames alongside the wood nymphs. Every being in the horrific scene let out guttural screams as the once regal oaks transformed into withered black memorials, and their lungs filled with poisonous gas. Amid the chaos a young woman knelt. A mane of unruly black curls framed an elegant face, faceted by high cheekbones, full lips, and wonderfully dark skin. The woman looked up with heavy-lidded eyes and connected with Ash's. A look of sadness and anguish passed over her abyssal eyes as she whispered, "I can't stop them," As soon as she uttered the words, Ash was flooded with sensation. He smelled the sweetness of the summer air defiled with the odor of Greek fire burning oak, the screams of the doomed nature spirits. What he felt most was the magical smoke burning his eyes, skin and lungs. As the menacing green flame lapped at his jeans and robbed him of consciousness, the woman said, "But I'd like to see you try."
Ash woke with a start. He'd fallen asleep under the willow tree again. The dreams had become more frequent, each with a different scenario of humans and creatures in a nightmarish ordeal. The most alarming thought was the humans' total immunity from the mist, the supernatural fog that hid the magical world from the mortal one. It was almost as if there was no mist at all, Ash thought to himself. Each dream always ended with the woman with dark eyes, beckoning him to try to stop some unnamed force. Ash knew what he had to do. For months he'd teased at the idea of leaving Delos, the island he had come to call home. He recalled his last meeting with the Lady of the island, his patron:
He stood in her temple, surrounded by six ivory columns choked in ivy. Honeysuckle draped from the crumbling ceilings and littered the floor with white petals. The aroma from the flowers filled the air pleasantly. Animals large and small slumbered on the plush moss that covered the floor, or lapped at the water that bubbled up from the aquifer deep within the ground. He carefully stepped around the sleeping fauna, maneuvered crystal puddles of water and silently regarded his patron. She had a certain regality about her; dark hair that fell just past her shoulders and skin that remained fair despite the ever-present sun on the island. Her youthful appearance was only challenged by her expression; softened by motherhood, but wizened by loss. She sat comfortably on a pedestal that occasionally held a statue of her likeness. She turned to face Ash.
Ash wasted no time, "My Lady, I think… I need to leave the island. Soon." The lady of the island paused for a moment, and then replied, "I knew, from the moment I brought you here, that you would not stay forever…though I always hoped you would." She continued, "Why do you want to leave?" Ash stammered (albeit taken aback by her sentiment), "The dreams - they mean something, I know it. I need to find out what they mean, because something is coming." The Lady regarded Ash, and answered intensely, "Ash, once you leave this island, I can no longer protect you and you are no longer in service to me." Ash considered the weight of her words. Ever since his birth, it seemed as if everything was after him. He was constantly attacked and threatened by monsters, gods and goddesses alike. He thought of it as the universe trying to right a monumental wrong, Ash's parentage. The Lady had rescued him from an entire life of running and fighting-only to die a bastard-by taking him to Delos. The Lady was the only one who knew who he really was, and seemingly the only one on his side. Ash swallowed hard and replied, "I understand." The Lady gave Ash a melancholy look and added, "And to leave, you must forget."
Since that conversation, Ash committed himself to remembering. He walked his hunting paths over and over again, memorizing every rock and tree he encountered. He closed his eyes and thought of the shape of his bow, how it felt in his hands—an extension of his own body. He looked at his reflection in Lake Ozeros, the centerpiece of Delos, and noticed how his brow furrowed, the sharpness of his jaw, the way his dark curls fell in his pale yellow eyes. He tried to remember his life before Delos—a scrap of blue ribbon, the smell of wet asphalt and damp leaves, biting into a fresh oreja. He repeated his name over and over again: Ash, Ash, Ash.
When he returned to the temple again, she was waiting there for him. The Lady solemnly regarded him, and reiterated, "To leave, you must forget."
And so he did.