It had been a little over 4 months since Sorey had woken up in a field.
The first thing he had noticed was the sun. High in the sky directly above him it was strong enough to force its way through his eyelids and stain his whole world red. He rolled to his side so the sun wasn't so direct.
The next thing he noticed was cows. One was only a few metres away, staring directly at him with its bulbous wet brown eyes. Menacingly.
He clambered up and started to walk and then stopped. Where was he walking? Where was he? He?
The only thing he knew for certain was that he was in a field, it was very sunny and he'd made an enemy of a cow.
It struck him in a sudden flash of inspiration. He'd find him.
Him? Who? Him.
He thought of all the people he knew. He can't be himself and it seemed unlikely that he was the cow. Never mind. It's more than likely that more people exist in the world.
He walked downhill for no reason other than that it was easier than walking uphill, and he stumbled across a town in the river basin. That was a relief, at least he knew for certain that there were other people in existence. But for whatever reason a lot of them couldn't see him. Some could only hear him, but they let him in the inn anyway. They seemed sorry for him, he couldn't figure out why. The bowing and the reverie was stranger still.
None of the people in the village were him. He'd checked each and every one of them. When he'd asked the priest, one of the few people who could see him, if there were any other villages anywhere, he had laughed and pointed him to the library and the maps. He liked the library but it was daunting. These books were going to make his world far bigger, and fast. When he saw just how small the river basin he was in was in comparison to the country he was scared. When he saw how big the country was in comparison to the world he was excited. It would make finding him far harder, however.
But he'd be going on a great adventure across the world.
But he'd be doing it alone.
It would be a great quest, and a true labour of love.
He loved him.
Oh.
He was leaving the library to go to his bed in the inn when a familiar spine caught his eye. The Celestial Record. He had stayed in all night reading. It turned out he could read very quickly when he already knew everything the book was going to say. He found himself reading out loud, his voice often further ahead than his eyes. The book was a great comfort. He had slept with his arms around it the way another might have slept with a pillow or a lover.
When he woke up he was excited by the prospect of travelling the world, especially about seeing ruins. He had always loved ruins, it seemed.
No.
We had always loved ruins.
They had spent many evenings over many years poring over that book, planning on seeing all the places in it in the future, and running rampant in ruins near their home, him and the indistinct grey blob. He would have better luck looking in and around ruins.
The villagers had been happy to let him take the celestial record and one of the more recent atlas' with him, and provided him with a large amount of food. Nice people.
He found hitchhiking very easy. People fit in to one of two categories. The people who couldn't see him were most common, and he'd sit in the back of the merchants motorised carts without complaint. The others were the ones who could see him, and they were very happy to let him ride with them, and would even take him out of their way if he wanted. They kept calling him 'mighty seraph'. He didn't think that was his name.
And so he had spent months like that, travelling across Glenwood, which he had learned, was the name or the continent.
Sometimes the ruins would be empty in the middle of nowhere, but other times they would be crowded with archaeologists. When he could find someone who could see him, he would ask, sorry, but I'm looking for my best friend. Have you seen him? The response would always be, well, what does he look like? He had strained to think. The colour of his hair was …pretty, the colour of his eyes was …pretty. This hadn't been helpful.
"How can you not know what your best friend looks like?" he had been asked.
"I'm blind," he had lied.
"Oh. I mean you seem to be fine."
"I can read the wind."
This seemed like utter rubbish and he had no idea where it came from.
Then he had met an old man in Lohgrin, a lifelong archaeologist.
"Is he a seraph like you?" the man had asked.
"I believe so, yes."
"And an archaeologist?"
"I think so. At least he really loved ruins when he was younger. He loved this book." He held the Celestial record in front of him.
"I think I know the man you're talking about. He taught me back when I was just 20, best professor I ever had. He's not taught for decades now though. They call him the blue wanderer around these parts. A living legend."
He was filled with an odd pride at this information, and at least now he had a name of sorts to go off.
So he kept moving and asked people about sightings of the blue wanderer. It had taken quite some time. He was told west and he headed west, and then he was told, oh no, he left, headed west.
After fourteen weeks had found his way to a ruin, an old temple to water it would seem. So he wandered, through every corridor, solved the puzzles to unlock every door he could find. Most were already unlocked, someone had been here already. Maybe it was him. Maybe it was other archaeologists.
He took a deep breath as the air as he walked in to a grand hall. It was so much drier and cooler than in the damp corridors. There was a figure in the distance, tall and dressed in blue, a seraph.
Was that him?
He felt a lurch, heard a crunch, and ran to him. A crack rended the floor in two between his feet, and fell away just in front of him. He ducked to grab a gloved hand as it was falling. The strain in his arm meant that he had caught him. The man stared up at him, strangely happy and vacant. He must be in shock. He braced his feet against the floors and used his other hand to pull against the edge of a paving slab. He felt the weight lift off his arm and he took a good look at the man standing in front of him.
His hair was blue and silver and shone beautifully in the ribbons of light.
His skin was pale and clear and looked soft.
His eyes were sincere and studious and a shade of purple he decided on the spot was his new favourite colour.
He was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.
It was definitely him. There was no doubt.
How is it that this one's mine?
How did I ever get so lucky?
Mikleo.