"Hey! Are you okay?"

Laurence didn't know how or why, only that that was the first thing he ever heard, and everything before it was ground to dust.

His first remembered experiences were not over a hospital bed, or between the arms of a mother. Not an infant nor subjugated under the wonders of a world entirely new to him, it was nothing like any of that.

He was ten years old, or so. And he was sprawled over the moss and stone. Soil was buried across the cuts and scratches over his knees and elbows, and aches across his muscles. A bone-deep gash was sunk into his foreleg. He was garbed in tattered rags, barefoot, whimpering over the ground.

A girl slowly stepped toward him.

He could remember she was around the same age as him at that time, maybe nine. Yet she was the first person he could remember ever meeting. And even after everything, as he reminisced on those first moments, not a drop of agony could be felt.

To think that there was peace before all the horrors he experienced within The Dungeon, it was unreal. He could barely believe it, that it was just some miracle invented in his mind to escape his agony, yet it was not. It was real.

Her name was Ira.

"Hey! Are you okay?" She said as she leaned out her hand.

Laurence peeled his hair away and gazed up at her. She had long, miskept, brownish-purple hair that ended in long bangs that partially covered an eye and was dressed in embroidered clothing. A cheerful and welcoming smile spanned across her face as he faced the hand she leaned out.

"I'm o-okay…" Laurence dryly muttered, then slowly grabbed onto her hand.

Ira pulled him up and scanned over the wounds splattered over his body, "You look pretty battered up, are you from the village?"

"No…" He responded,

"Then where are you from? How did you get here?"

"I don't know…" He responded,

"Never mind that then…I'm Ira, I'll get you healed up in the village, just follow me."

He remembered it was morning, and he was inside the jungle. Radiant beams of light scattered across the grass and soil, and the chirping of bugs and bats serenaded them from every direction. He followed Ira across the dense foliage of the understory and across a small stream of water before they pushed forth into a cleared path.

Ira guided him across the trail surrounded by stalks of bamboo, the cold and wet stones chilling his feet as they strolled forward. Ira skipped and danced as she walked, drops of morning dew falling onto her shoulders as she went.

"So you've never been to the village? Where are you even from?" She asked,

Laurence responded with another mutter, "I don't know…"

Her voice was bright and cheerful, as if a vivid energy exuded from her body. She hopped and skipped forward, as he followed in a slight limb, clenching the back of his arm. Their walk took another five minutes or so until they peeled back a bush of elephant ears and over a slim opening within a wooden stockade.

Instantly, the morning sun in its warm open blinded him, and he found himself in the center of the village. Their settlement was weaved across a collection of massive kapok trees, one in the center and several surrounding the stockade.

Vine ropes and ladders climbed to platforms suspended against the trunks, connecting with bridges where he saw men carrying baskets of supplies and leaping effortlessly from branch to branch. More workers moved bundles of bamboo stalks toward workhouses and carpentries, and farmers pulled bags of crops to their markets.

The settlement curved up to a hill, where lines of brown-stucco housings carved a path to a grand housing, nearly twice the size of the others.

Laurence managed to muster up a question of his own, stepping closer to Ira, "Where are we going?"

"My house, all the way up there."

"There?"

"Yep, I forgot to tell you, I'm the daughter of the chief." She said with a smirk,

The chief? He would've never expected her to be from the head of the village, yet it was true. He simply stopped himself from questioning, whatever he was headed for would undoubtedly be better than whatever happened before. They neared the grand housing, built with a base of heavy stone blocks and a roof decorated with terracotta shingles.

Ira guided him up the porch and unlocked the netted door, stepping into the inside.

"Ah, there you are," A large voice spoke from next to the hallway, "Oh? Who's this?"

Ira ran to her father and wrapped her arms around him, he reciprocated. Laurence remembered her father, he was a large and strong man, cold, but with enough compassion for her. She always stuck next to him, which he understood.

"I found him from outside the wall," She responded, "He's badly hurt, can you heal him?"

"Ira," Her mother said as she stepped out from the corner, "You know we cannot treat outsiders, maybe somebody else in the village is willing to."

"Come on Mom, I know he's badly hurt, why does it matter that he's not from here?"

Before her mother could respond, her father interjected, "Our daughter is correct," He said, kneeling down to Laurence and reaching out his hand, "Boy, what is your name?"

"Laurence…I think it is…"

"Do not worry, we will heal your injuries."

Laurence sat in the living room, as Ira disinfected his wounds. Her father went upstairs to find healing beakers, her mother worked in the kitchen to brew a special tea for him. Ira cleaned the dirt and soil over his cuts and gashes with a damp cloth, he winced as the water entered the divides between his tissue.

"Sorry, I'll try to do it softer,"

"It's okay…"

Her mother passed the tea to him, and he cupped it inside his palms. He pushed back his ragged hair and let the warm steam waft over his face, the mystical scent of the tea tingling around his nostrils.

He woke up, the blue glow of the night striking his back.

Ira's father had healed him, and let him rest in one of the rooms, and he had slept through the entire day. His limbs were no longer rusted and sored, and most of his wounds had been patched up.

He loved when he was like this, just a kid.

When he never needed to question whatever was going on, when he could simply move as the tide moved him. When he could sleep comfortably, without a second worry in his mind. Why couldn't he just be like that now?

"Hey! Feelin' better?"

Ira tapped him on the forehead as he raised his chest from the mat. She crouched next to him, only half of her face illuminated in the blue light. She smiled as he turned to his face. He pushed the blanket off his body, and sat up.

"Yeah…What time is it?" He spoke more and more fluently once he was healed.

"Ah, it's around ten PM, you slept through the entire day."

Laurence turned back and glanced through the window, grand, radiant blue striking out from the stardust moon. The top of the canopy was hazed in darkness, still with a few birds perched upon the branches.

"So…you're named Laurence?" She asked,

"Yeah…"

"Huh, nobody around here has a name like that."

"Oh."

"How about I just call you…hmm…Ren. Yeah, that does nicely."

And a slight smile formed over his face.

And it lasted to the next day, and the next, and the next, and the next, on until infinity.

As the days passed by, he slowly melded into the life of the village. What paradise was it, that he could become part of a new without the delusion of the past consuming him? What stopped him from doing that now?

Not long after, he became attuned with the village, the tribal faction which was wreathed with Dragon energy.

Though, he didn't stick to the village people as much. He made no friends around there, neither did many talk to him. He found himself mostly sticking next to Ira, as she shared a lack of attachment to the outside village. They passed the time mostly by talking to each other, and he soon came to grow a fondness for her company.

Ira was quick to teach him the lifestyle of their tribe and village, touring the settlement and its houses and businesses, along with the daily schedule.

Since he was only ten, he was only given tasks when needed and went on with daily life carefree. Each day, during noon the entire village was to settle atop the platforms of the kapok trees and bask in the warmth of the sun, a time of rest over the long day.

He learned that he was a capable worker. He could withstand heavy labor given to him and move quickly and efficiently, although he didn't need to, he enjoyed helping with the village's work.

And Ira's father, the chieftain, and her mother treated him as a simple guest at first, though as time passed, he wondered why they hadn't gotten rid of him yet. Perhaps it was Ira that convinced them, perhaps it was something he couldn't quite remember. But as time passed, he could feel them treating him differently, almost like he was part of the family.

All was well.

Now he could only gawk at all of it, the miraculous possibility that he could be like this. Be picked up so easily, without further delusion, and become part of that new life. It was just miraculous.

That miracle continued on, longer than he ever expected it to last.

Days turned into weeks.

Weeks turned into months.

Months turned into years.

3 years later…

"Hey! Ren! Come, let's go walk."

As if she appeared into existence, Ira sped next to him and tapped his shoulder. Laurence turned to face her, him feasting on a bowl of tapioca pudding. The sky was painted in bright blue, shining across the leaves around him and the morning dew that glimmered in sparkles over the field.

He didn't know how it all came up to this, but it was true. Still, he never bothered to question what happened when he was first found, it was useless and would only drive him further into circles. He was happy, he was content with his life, his assignment, and his daily schedule from morning to sundown. There was no use of questioning, there was no point.

"Yeah?" Laurence responded while shoving a spoonful of tapioca into his mouth, "What is it?"

Ira gripped his wrist and tugged him off the log bench, as he scurried to grab the bowl along with him. They walked together through the cleared path, out and across the borders of their settlement.

"I don't see you often now, what have you been doing?" Laurence asked her,

"...What do you think?" She responded with her signature smirk, "I have to travel to the other two settlements all the time now, all for some work that I still don't understand…It's tiring as hell."

"Isn't that what you're here for? And you still don't get it? Plus, if you have to do all that stuff you shouldn't be spending your time talking to someone like me," He said sarcastically.

Ira laughed as she looked down, "Yeah…Not that…I just don't get what they see in me. Like, why am I the person who'll do this? Why me?"

"Yeah…just kinda strange that you go missing from home sometimes, just a little lonely there now."

"Mhm," She said as he paced in front of him, "So, what have you been doing? What was your assignment again?"

"You already forgot?" He replied as she chuckled embarrassingly, "I go collect Dragonblood ambers from the waters, I'm a diver."

He had realized he had a great fondness for the water and many rivers that weaved throughout the strip. He enjoyed the chilling sensation over his body and the feeling of diving and swimming. His assignment was to search for sparse ambers of hardened Dragonblood scattered across the sea bed, a revered task given to only a few.

Perhaps it was his occupation with the chieftain's family that caused many to gain a fondness towards him, he never did anything outstanding to earn that. Though he couldn't care less about what the village thought about him, he never interacted with many people there anyway.

"Ah, and how's that doing for you?"

"Fine…good actually. I didn't expect it, but I really like the water…you should go swimming with me someday."

Ren could see a smile on her face, though almost all of it was concealed by her long strands of messy hair. They continued to walk until they reached a slim divide between the land, and a creek. They skipped across the stones jutting out the blessed water, shining brighter than polished gold across the light.

"So…where are we going'?"

Ira pushed a bushel of leaves off her face, "Nowhere, let's just walk around these areas of The Strip, not every day that I get to do this…"

They pushed over the denseness of the jungle, crawling under weaving embroideries of roots and vines, up and over tunnels of the undercroft. The constant wavering trills of birds and bugs drowned out the air in their eternal sound, accompanied by squeaks of bats and flying foxes and high croaks of an assortment of poisonous tree frogs.

Their shoes squelch as they press into the wet soil, foaming out the seams and over the grass. They pass cleared paths with protruding palm leaves guiding the way, used as perches for a colorful flock of parrots. They move over a tunnel filled with flowers of vivid, caustic colors that smell of an intoxicating odor.

Ren crawled under a drape of leaves, crouching until he stepped beside Ira, "Have you ever been outside The Ornate Strip?" He asked,

"I don't think, the farthest I've been is probably near the border, but never across it." She responded as she stepped over a rocky ledge, smirking, "You're lucky I found you here, this place is awesome."

The two leaped across the rock slates over the dividing creek, with the blessed water glimmering brighter than gold over the sun. Ren pressed his back against the soil on the other side, urging Ira to join him.

They spent several minutes, simply staring at the cloudless sky, letting their minds drown out the sounds of the jungle until it was nothing but silence.

They lay there, simply sinking themselves into nature, until Ren spoke again, "Hey, Ira?"

"Yeah?"

"...What do you think it is like…out there?" He asked as she turned to face him, "Why do we never talk about that? What's happening outside The Strip, the crusades, the Godseeker?"

Ira paused for a moment, glancing back at the sky, "...The Shamans say that it's awful out there…That we shouldn't leave The Strip for our own safety…That we're lucky that we're spared from the carnage of the outside…" She continued, turning back to Ren, "But it can't be that bad…right?"

"I don't know…" Ren responded, "Are we ever going to see it?"

"...I don't know…"

Another stalling silence churned through the air.

Ira moved herself closer to Ren, he could see a slight discomfort across her face. He reminisced on his questions about the outside world. What was it like? Was it really that bad? Why couldn't they just go and see?

And he found himself contemplating the same question that ate him away now, whether to reveal horrors to satisfy one's curiosity or remain an unquestioned, unanswered husk.

Yet unlike him now, that question was rendered useless, not worth bothering.

"You still tired from all that work you need to do?" He asked Ira,

"Kind of..."

"Well, let's go take a drink from the water, help you liven up a little."

"Wait, wha-" Ren pulled Ira up and toward the creek, perching over a flat slag of mossy stone. The water, the blessed water was crystal clear, not a single impurity hidden within as far as the eye could see. It shined like gemstones, glistening streams of quartz and diamond, the edges reflecting an iridescent shine. Ren crouched down and sunk his hands into the water.

"Wait! We can't do that, remember?" Ira cautiously said,

"It's fine, just this once."

"No, what if my father finds out? What could the shamans do to me if they find out?"

"Come on... that'll help you. Don't worry about that."

Ira reluctantly followed him onto the slag and crouched down beside him. She dipped her hands into the stream, cupped her palms, then raised them up into the air. Slowly, she raised her palms to her mouth and drank a sip of the water.

"How is it?" He asked,

"...It's great."

"Why are you bringing me here?"

The Shamans had called Ira to join their meeting once again, though this time, she asked Ren to come with her. He had never been brought to one of these meetings, nor did he know anything about them. Ira, strangely, never told him anything about them. He tried asking her before, but she simply shrugged them off.

Yet he was certain, through all the things she had to partake in, that she was something more than just the chieftain's heir.

She brought him along, and the two quickly traveled to the monastery. Separate from the tribe's three main settlements, it was located at the center of all three, where only the shamans resided. He doubted if he was even allowed in there, as the two walked across the cut-granite hallways. He looked through the wrought iron windows and noticed his village hidden between the kapok trees. He glanced up, across the vastness of The Strip, his eyes peering at The Great Womb. It was like a mountain, the peak eclipsing the sun.

The Dragon Aerie.

He never had a chance to gaze at the entirety of the Aerie, and it was nothing like he would've ever expected. The mound of dragon ash and bone reeked of decades of treachery and treason, yet as it stood before the evening sun, he found a sort of beauty in it. The entire Strip was paved in the agony of hundreds, from the blessed waters stained in Dragonblood to the desecrated essence that wreaths the forest and its life.

Ira stood next to him, waiting for him to move on, and he did once he noticed.

They entered the opening carved from the cliff, into the temple room. Within the dimness of the cavern, only lit with rings of candlelight, Ren saw the shamans kneeling over embroidered mats, stoically perched in the center of the room. Their lustrous headpieces gleamed with golden foil, casting a dark shadow over their old, sagging faces.

"There you are, Your Resplendence." The first Shaman said as Ira slowly stepped into the cavern, "Oh, who is this you've brought?"

Like the shamans, Ira kneeled on the empty center mat and gestured for Ren to kneel beside her. The room was dead silent for a moment, with a streak of weast falling down his face as the shamans wondered who he was. What was happening exactly? What had Ira not told him? Who was she to the others?

"Do not mind him," Ira responded strangely, with a frigid tone that he never usually heard before.

"I am sorry, Your Resplendence," Another shaman said, "We cannot have unordained partake here."

"I say we can," Ira sharply replied, "Do not mind him."

Again, a long silence filled the room, the curious faces of the shamans slowly fading away.

"As you wish."

Another streak of sweat fell down his face. For what reason did Ira bring him there? There appeared to be nothing he needed to do, was he just here to keep her company? He stared at Ira, who kneeled just a bit farther. Her pupils pierced out from the shadows under her hair, her eyelids squinted together to form a bitter expression. She attempted to rest her hands over her thighs, yet they quickly clenched together.

The shaman continued, "Well, the reason we summoned you here, is that...we need your guidance."

Ira stiffened. He could notice her fists clenched even more, her arms falling rigid and tense. She tried to push her bangs out of her view, yet they persisted. Her lips twitched, widening as she gritted her teeth.

The shaman continued, "For decades, our tribe and The Ornate Strip have maintained peace with The Imperium. By The Godseeker's hand, we are kept untouched by his war. Yet, with the actions we will commit, tensions between that peace will surely rise."

Before Ira could speak, another shaman interjected, "The Godseeker is a scrupulous and methodical figure, he and our tribe both detest The Golden Butcheries, he cannot simply oppose us."

A third shaman spoke up, "Yet, what exactly started his Crusades and War? His goal is to rid this world of the divine, if we truly take this choice into action, we will be no more than another enemy. We are strong, but we are not even a fraction of The Imperium's power."

"Do you really think I know the answer to that?!" Ira shouted, though the shamans continued to bicker.

More streaks of sweat fell down Ren's face. His knees began to lose sense from kneeling, as he shifted uncomfortably over the arguing of the shamans. The commotion just drowned him even more, as he tried desperately to sit still. She never acted like that, even on bad or tiring days, she managed to act gleefully toward him. But now, even in front of him, she grimaced with a burning annoyance.

"If we truly are determined on this choice," A shaman said, "And The Godseeker finds out, we will not last a day."

"The Ornate Strip is sacred to him, we will be left untouched."

"We are the only figures keeping it sacred, that choice will desecrate the peace between us."

"Please, Your Resplendence!" The First shaman spoke to Ira, "Please, help us with your guidance!"

Ira turned pale, completely appalled by the shamans as she stood up, "HOW SHOULD I KNOW?!" Ren's eyes widened as she screamed at the shamans, You all act like I have the answer to all your problems!"

"Your Resplendence, I-"

"NO. I have no idea why you all treat me like something bigger! Because I'm not, and you all praise me for doing nothing! What exactly do you see in me that I don't?!"

The Shamans were silent.

"You treat me like I'm some sort of idol! You treat me like I'm your destined ruler, that you can't do anything but praise! You treat me like I'm a Go-"

Her words fell apart, clenching her fists until her fingernails dug into her skin. She scoffed, grabbed Ren by the wrist, and stormed out of the temple room.

Ren stumbled away as she dragged him out through the corridors, before stopping midway. He wiped the sweat off his face and neck as he turned his head to Ira. Her head hung down, completely still, until she collapsed against the stone wall.

"Are you okay?" Ren frantically spoke, "What was that?!"

Ira pushed her back over the wall and slid down to the floor. "...Ren..." He managed to say out her heavy breaths, "Tell me I can do this..."

"...What?"

"...Just...tell me...I can do this..."

"You need to rest a bit." He said, "Just...sit here for a moment. Catch your breath."

Ren slid down against the wall with her, and the two sat in silence. For several minutes, they rested in the empty halls, with the chirping of birds eventually drowning out Ira's exhaustion.

"...what exactly are you hiding from me?" Ren asked.

"huh?"

"You never act like that in front of me. Why are you so important to the shamans? You don't need to hide anything from me."

Ira hung her head again, gripping her knees as her hair fell back onto her face again, before finally speaking up.

"The shamans...the tribe...We've always detested The Golden Butcheries. Yet, for decades we've been divided by three chieftains, hoping that one day, all three will be united...under the rule of a God-King."

Ren shrunk back, a shiver crawling up and down his spine. His sweat turned frigid, the rising heat sweltered across his mind and turned into a chilling grasp held over his neck. A thousand questions flooded his head, unable to wait another second for an answer, they emblazoned their words over the back of his skull.

"..."

"But there are no auric souls left to be consumed, there's is no chance for that wish to be truly fulfilled. Although, even if every soul is consumed, the use of essence doesn't fall short of that might."

"...What?"

"You don't get it? Ren...not truly but almost...They want me to Rapture."

Blank. He couldn't quite remember what exactly he thought, yet it overwhelmed him. What? Why? Why would they want this? For what reason? He knew a Rapture with essence was one much different than with a soul, yet what could've pointed to the realization of that?

"Stop it, Ren. It's still being considered. Who knows when it could happen." She said, placing a hand over his shoulder, "But...If it is true...How could I ever be ready for that?"

"Why...didn't you tell me..."

She whimpered as she buried her head against her palms. Ren felt his senses escape him, each second was agonizingly long before he finally recollected himself. If that day came, what would become of her? He didn't know. He didn't want to know.

"I don't know...How can I ever prepare myself to do something like that? What would happen to me if it was done? What would happen to Mom and Dad...to us? I don't understand what the shamans see in me that's worthy of that. What is so special about me?... So Ren...just...please tell me. Please tell me...that I can do it."

His mind was a white slate, yet over the realization of everything, his words persisted. He turned his head to Ira, still curled up against the wall. He attempted to smile through his grimace, patting her on her head.

"Whether you do it or not...Even if it isn't done...I believe in you." He said, "You can do it."

She raised her head and looked him in his eyes.

"Thank you."