She stood upon a battlefield, the ground beneath her feet charred by some unknown flame. Ahead there was a deep gorge that seemed to stretch away forever in each direction. She walked to the edge and peered down into it's vast emptiness.
The sound of galloping horses made her turn, and before her she saw an army of Hell Knights riding across the beaten ground, weapons raised in some unspoken call to arms.
She walked towards them, unafraid, un-alarmed by their disfigured countenances or the trail of blood that lay in their wake. They stormed towards her, a wall of evil menace, but she stood before them, unwavering.
As they closed in, she saw in the distance two blonde heads sparkling in the night. They raised their weapons in salute, and she nodded in return. Then the Hell Knights were upon her, and she could no longer see them.
Satan's warriors flowed past her, around her, through her; she stood untouched. They rode on, unaware of her presence, and leaped into the crevasse, horses and all.
She watched them plummet, then headed in the direction she had last seen a living soul. Bones crunched beneath her feet and blood squished as it oozed through the still-bleeding orifices of the many casualties of war. Her eyes passed over them - demons and humans alike, body parts missing, sucking chest wounds glaring in the moonlight.
A hand twitched. She waded through the bodies and grasped it, pulling it's owner out of the carnage. It was attached to a slender arm that led to the slightly plump body of another blonde figure.
"Who are you?" she asked the woman, who currently stood straightening her blood-stained shirt and trying to gather her bearings.
"Wh-who am I?" the woman repeated, as if unsure she had heard correctly. "I think the better question is, who are you?"
"I am…me," she replied. The blonde looked sympathetically down at her.
"No. You are not you. You are someone else."
The woman took her gently by the hand and led her through the piles of corpses, walking in a convoluted line towards the edge of the field where the ground turns up to meet the sky. A mesa, it was called. She knew that from somewhere.
"Where are we going?" she asked. The woman gave her a slight smile and squeezed her hand reassuringly.
"We are going to meet your destiny," the woman replied.
"Oh…Why?" she asked.
"Because you don't understand yet."
"What's your name?" she asked. The woman smiled shyly at her.
"Tara."
"What's my name?"
"You don't remember?" She shook her head. "Don't worry, I'm sure you'll remember it in no time. As soon as we reach the top, you can ask them if they know your name," Tara assured her.
When they neared the base of the mesa, Tara released her hand and stepped away. She looked at Tara strangely.
"Aren't you coming with me?" she asked.
Tara shook her head. "This is a journey you must make yourself...you understand, don't you?"
"No, I don't think I do," she muttered. Her hands and feet grasped at the rock face and she pulled herself up foot by foot. The skin of her fingers began to crack and peel, flecks of her blood leaving a trail to tell all those who came after where she had been.
Finally she reached the top, sweaty, bleeding, and thoroughly exhausted. With great difficulty, her tired arms hauled her body over the ledge and she crawled on hands and knees until she could move no longer.