Life begins anew when you dream.
That voice. He had heard it before. He felt a powerful pull towards it, yet he could not understand why. It was the only thing he could perceive in the darkness, but he couldn't move to reach for it. All of a sudden, the waters rolled around him, and he was powerless to fight as they carried him off.
He finally sensed solid ground below him. It seemed to take all of his strength simply to claw at the sand, barely getting any purchase as he pulled himself further into the bank. Every inch stoked the fire in his lungs as they dispelled the salt water from within them. The moment his body was completely out of the water, his consciousness left him once more.
"Oi," a voice rang out, but as if from a great distance. "You alright?"
After a moment, he felt a hand gently strike his back. "Anyone alive in there?"
This small action stirred the water in his lungs. He coughed much of it up, then turned his head to the voice and opened his eyes. They were greeted by a thin, friendly-looking face, hair pulled back in a scarf tied behind the man's head.
"That's better," the stranger smiled. "How about we get you better situated?"
The kindly man supported him as he lifted himself by his arms into a sitting position.
"Now we'll just sit here a while before we try out those sea legs. Mustav' been through the wringer. Nasty weather 'round here, and that's on good days. You were on one of 'em ships what went down a week past, I reckon?"
"I… I don't know," he admitted.
"That so? Probably hit your head out there. Miracle you survived this long out here on your own."
"A miracle…" He didn't feel miraculous at the moment, rather as if he weren't meant to be there.
"But where are me manners?" his companion scolded himself. "Name's Stan. What about you? Have you got one to speak of?"
He wracked his brain, but couldn't come up with even that simple fact. He finally settled on a single word that felt significant amongst the others trying to piece themselves together in his mind.
"Wyvern," he said. "Call me Wyvern."
"Well, Wyvern," Stan went on. "I'm here waiting for my mates to come back with the rest of the supplies from our ship to take back to the village. You should come with us. There's not much, but we can see that your belly's filled, and give you a warm bed. What do you say?"
"I hardly have any other offers," Wyvern answered. "I'd be grateful."
"Good. Speaking of, here they are."
Several more men came off small dinghies, each holding one or more crates. They stared at Wyvern, then gave a questioning look to Stan, who gave a brief explanation of having found him on the beach.
"And you said we shouldn't land here," Stan berated good-naturedly. "Imagine leavin' this poor sod to the elements?"
"Right, right, you're the hero," one of the other men groaned with a roll of his eyes. "Well, let's get a move on, shall we?"
Stan offered a hand to Wyvern. He tentatively took it and pulled himself up. Stan supported his shoulder until he had gained his balance.
"Easy does it, that's the ticket."
Wyvern gained confidence in his footing after only a few steps. With that, the group set off down a footpath. Wyvern had the vague notion that he had taken it once before. The ashen fields, the withered trees… Even the air had a familiar feel to it, something he couldn't quite place.
"Fancy piece of steel you've got there." one of the men in the party motioned to Wyvern's back. A long sword sat in a leather sheath attached to his red and black tunic. He hadn't even registered the weight. "You a soldier or something?"
"Your guess is as good as mine." Another mystery to sort out. He pulled it out and held it in front of him, looking at his reflection in the blade. It was completely foreign to him. He absently put a hand to his left cheek, grazing the smooth skin. Just who was he?
Out of the silence rang a lone, drawn-out howl.
"Of all the-" another man grumbled.
"Look alive, everyone," Stan called out. "We've got company! Wyvern, let's hope you remember how to use that thing."
Out of the trees came several wolves, low on their haunches, teeth bared. Their coats, standing on edge, gave off an eerie blue glow. When two of them lunged at Wyvern, he lifted his blade horizontally across his chest, shoving them off almost without thinking. He slid into a different stance, one hand on his sword hilt, the other clenched in a fist by his side.
One of the wolves leapt again to strike. Wyvern side stepped out of the way just before the beast's fangs would have sunk into his flesh. Caught by surprise, the wolf left itself open for Wyvern to rip it through, its body dissolving into a fine powder. He decided to go fully on the offensive, lunging at the others, which soon followed the first. Ere long, the path forward was clear once again.
"If that don't beat all," Stan exclaimed, letting out a whistle. "Guess the body remembers what the mind forgets."
"How are there still akashic here?" Wyvern wondered. Of all the things he couldn't remember, he knew this term, and knew something wasn't right about their presence.
"Nearly all the wildlife in these parts were turned in the floods last year," his companion explained. "Stuck around when the skies cleared, though. Ever since, too few people have been brave enough to handle the leftovers."
"Last year." Why did that sound wrong to him?
He wasn't given much time to ponder this. Everyone was anxious to get to the village before more akashic appeared, so they carried on. Finally, wooden gates came into view, and the men trudged through before the sun got any lower in the sky.
"Welcome to Eistla," Stan announced. "It's not much, but it's home, least while there's work to be done here on Ash. The place had the best structures left standing, so it seemed the best place to start the rebuildin' and set up a base. Now, come on; hero like you deserves a good meal after saving the men and our shipment like that. 'Fraid you'll have to settle for whatever's in the mess tonight, though."
"I'm of no mind to be picky." Wyvern had no way of knowing when his last meal had been, but his stomach felt completely hollow, and he felt all but ready to collapse.
"Yeah, been a long day for everyone, and most of us didn't just wash up from a shipwreck or fight akashic. This way, then."
Stan led Wyvern to a building not far from the gate. A savory scent hit Wyvern's nose, followed by that of fresh bread. Inside, many men and women were in a line, bowls in hand, awaiting their portion of what he assumed was a kind of stew. Once he and Stan received their own, the two went to a secluded table near the rear end of the hall. Wyvern removed the sheath from his back and set his sword down beside him before sitting down and digging into his meal.
"You know, I've never seen anyone fight quite like you before," Stan said between spoonfuls. "Not to mention that blade of yours. It's probably one of a kind."
With his mouth full and unsure of how to respond, Wyvern merely grunted.
"What I'm gettin' at is that if you find whoever forged that sword, they might be able to tell you somethin' about yourself, where you come from."
"Of course." Wyvern turned and looked at the weapon in question. How had he not thought of that? If there were someone out there with answers, he would find them.
"Now, before you get too excited," Stan warned. "You're not going to find 'em on Ash. None of the people workin' here could get anything near as fine as that. More than like, your craftsman is on Storm."
"Then I'll go as soon as possible," Wyvern declared.
"Problem is, the waters and supply routes being as they are, another ship isn't like to land here for several more months, then it would be a couple of more weeks sailing back across the Strait."
Wyvern almost growled in his frustration. After only a day, he was tired of not remembering anything about his past. There was somewhere else he needed to be, someone waiting for him. He knew that there was something he needed to do, and it wasn't in this village. But he supposed he didn't exactly have a choice.
"In the meantime, why not help us out?" Stan asked. "We can always use an extra pair of hands, 'specially one who knows his way around a blade well enough to keep the akashic away. I'd even see you had some coin to take with you when you leave. What say you?"
A phrase popped into Wyvern's head. Since you're still breathing, you might as well make yourself useful. Seeing the people around him, each gladly doing their part in breathing new life into this place, he did feel a sense of admiration, and could easily see himself doing whatever he could do to help. He could scarcely think of a nobler way to pass the time he was here.
"Alright," he answered.
"Perfect," Stan said with a smile. "Welcome aboard."
The men shook hands, and Stan raised his tankard in honor of the village's newest defender. This toast was chorused by others in the hall, obviously glad to have someone new in the fold. A familiar warmth rose in Wyvern's heart at the camaraderie, and he found himself tipping his own cup in acknowledgement, smiling at the faces he would come to know over the next few months. Perhaps they would pass more quickly than he expected.
*AN: So, most of you probably guessed this. This was the best way I could think of where Joshua would be the author of the book, yet have the details of the final battle in order to come up with the title. As always, thank you so much for all the favorites, follows, and reviews, and I hope you are looking forward to what comes next as much as I am!