Keshiema examined the knee-length white gown. The haltered bodice clung to her, fitting perfectly without hindering movement. The sweetheart collar complimented her small figure and the flared skirt swayed in the light wind. She ran her fingers over the braids running from her temples, pulling her hair away from her face without binding it tightly.

  She could not remember the last time she wore a dress. "Hmm," she rubbed her eye with her palm. Chills washed over her in waves, making thinking difficult. She was having difficulty recalling much of anything, actually. "What was I doing a moment ago?" She wondered aloud while looking around.

  A beautiful clearing lied just ahead. A fine mist hovered over the forest floor. The nearby brook babbled softly and birds sang happily in the trees. Patches of thick moss felt like pillows under her bare feet and ferns caressed her legs as she approached the clearing. The trees whispered loudly, their branches swaying in an ocean scented breeze.

  Rustling in the clearing caught her ears. Eager to investigate, she quickened her pace, crouching down in the tall switchgrass lining the clearing. A small sparrow pecked and scratched at the ground in the center. Not wanting to startle the tiny bird, Keshiema moved slowly into the circle. Hearing her, the sparrow looked up from the scratched earth. When the bird stood its ground, Keshiema knelt down next to it.

  “Hey there little guy.” She held out her hand and let the sparrow examine it. Cautiously, she caressed the top of its head with one finger. “Whatcha doing here all alone?” Hopping away the bird pecked and scratched at the ground again. Looking closer at the small patch of dirt, Keshiema noticed an oddly square rock slightly exposed under the dark soil. The bird chirped, as if saying it’s job was done, and fluttered off into the forest.

  Her curiosity piqued, she brushed away the loose soil to get a better look. When her hand grazed the stone, the ground began to shake violently. She shot up, backing away as the stone rose from the ground.

  Dusting the dry dirt from her hands, Keshiema approached the monolith. The two foot tall trapezoid reminded her of a headstone. A deep slot on the top reminder her of a fairytale she had heard as child. Quite troubling, however, was the symbol carved into the face: A compass-like star nearly identical to her Friskalian Mark. She ran her fingers over the stone's face, delicately tracing the star. Someone cleared their throat behind her. She spun around, ready to fight, trying to draw weapons she did not possess.

  A young man smiled at her from a few feet away. His eyes reminded her of a color wheel she had seen in an ancient art book. His hair was like a multicolored flame, the hues shifting slightly with every movement. He tilted his head calling attention to the small silver hoop earrings. “You called?”

  “Did I?” Starting to relax, Keshiema reminded herself to stay defensive.

  “The stela.” He gestured to the stone behind her. “You summoned me with it when you touched the carving. He tilted his head again. “How did you even find it?”

  “Who are you?” Something told her she should already know. ‘He has no aura.’

  Growling, he massaged the bridge of his nose. “This is going nowhere. How about you answer one question and then I answer one.”

  “Okay fine.” Dropping her guard, she shifted her weight to one foot and put her hand on her hip. “A bird showed me the stone. All I did was touch it and it shot up out of the ground.”

  “What kind of bird?” he cocked his head again.

  Annoyed he forgot his own suggestion, she tilted her head the same way he did, smiling sarcastically. “Answer my question first.”

  “Fine.”

  ‘Did his hair just shift colors?’ She stared at the strange man, but nothing looked different.

  “My name is Fotiá.”

  She waited, expecting him to elaborate, but he just stood glaring at her. “And?”

  “And what kind of bird?” his patience with the girl was running thin.

  The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  “Eesh. Alright. It was a sparrow.” His presence intimidated her more than a little, but more than anything, his sharp-toothed smile irked her. ‘Sharp teeth. Don’t I know someone else with teeth like that?’ Although the name and face escaped her, she was sure this man reminded her of someone else. “I don’t like your game. Last question. What are you?”

  “Trapped in Ethera, that’s what.” He smiled snuggly, with an air of sarcasm.

  His arrogant grin sent her over the edge; her annoyance turning to rage, her hair and eyes shifted to bright red as she launched herself towards him.

  Time slowed as he watched the young woman's anger overtake her. ‘Her hair changed.’ Everything clicked. The short stature, the sparrow showing her the stela, and her hair changing colors; it all pointed to one thing. When she closed the gap between them, the dimly glowing star upon her forehead confirmed it.

  Fotiá grabbed her hand as she reached him, spinning her around backwards to kill her momentum. He threw her down, holding her arm in the air and pinning her face down into the grass with his knee on the back of her shoulder. "I’ll answer your question. But you need to calm down.” After a few moments her breathing slowed, her muscles relaxed and her hair returned to blue. He let go of her arm and stepped back. “Don’t do that again. I can match your speed all day long.”

  Sitting up, Keshiema dusted herself off. "I’m sorry, I don’t know what came over me.”

  “This place has a way of playing with your emotions. Be mindful of that. Now, If I’m going to tell you anything, you’ve got to answer a few more questions.”

  “I’ll do my best.” she answered, feeling oddly safe now. folding her legs in, she waited for his questions, feeling like a child getting lessons from a teacher.

  Sitting down across from her, Fotiá took a deep breath. “Shall we start with your name?"

  "We probably both could've started with that," she mumbled. When Fotiá frowned, she cleared her throat and opened her mouth to speak. Then she closed it again. "Um, I'm not sure."

  Shaking his head, Fotiá quickly moved on. "What about your parents?”

  She thought for moment, trying to call forth images on the brim of her mind and names on the tip of her tongue. “My mother,” she paused. “Her name is… sss… sss…” he leaned in slightly, as of the slight change in distance would get him his answer faster. “Sarah!” She smiled, beyond proud of herself for remembering. “She was a human. And my father was,” she paused again. “It started with an ‘E.’ Ethan. His name was Ethan. He was human too.” She was beaming.

  “Your parents were both human?” The look in his eyes said he thought she was insane. “Are you sure?” he opened his arms and an ornate full length mirror appeared in front of him.

  With furrowed brows, she examined her reflection. Reaching up she poked the tip of one of her horns, careful not to wound herself on the sharp end. Picking up a handful of hair, she marveled at the metallic finish. “I'm not…Sara and Ethan aren’t my parents. I’m a demon. Just like the thing that murdered them.” The girl let go of her now raven black hair.

  Another voice intruded itself upon her thoughts, “Your parents knew what you were, and they loved you all the same."

  Dropping the mirror, which disappeared just before landing on the ground Fotiá placed a hand on Keshiema's shoulder. "Not every demon is a murderer, I’m sure you’ve known many kind ones in your life.”

  Keshiema looked at Fotiá. His hair seemed darker, like the vibrancy had been drained away. “I know I have. So why can’t I remember them?”

  Now that he was closer he saw just how faded her Mark was. It was subtle, flickering in and out of existence. There was something written in his eyes; The heart wrenching grief of a soul torn into pieces. He stared a moment before regaining his composure. “I can help you, but you’ll need to trust me.”

  She stared into his eyes, trying to read his intentions. Something about him felt comforting, like being with family. “Do I know you? Are you one of the ones I can't remember?”

  “No, but I’m not surprised you feel that way.” Rolling up his sleeve, he revealed a colorful tattoo on his forearm remarkably similar to the mark on her forehead. “Our kind share a link. Our bloodline strengthens that bond.”

  “That’s my Friskalian Mark. How do you have that?” she touched his arm, confused by the impossibility before her. The symbol shined brightly upon her touch and her forehead felt hot. She could only assume her mark held the same glow. With her mind now distracted from her grief, her hair and eyes shifted back to silver-blue.

  “You're not just a run of the mill Friskalia. Your Mark serves a dual purpose. You, my colorful child,” he held her cheek in his hand, gently, protectively, “are my descendant. Now, will you trust me?"

  Every fiber of her being urged her to trust him. She searched his eyes for anything telling her otherwise. There was something in the pit of her stomach telling her to hurry, to make a decision and make it swiftly. “I don’t feel like I have much of a choice.”

  “There are always choices, young one, some of them are just poor.” The sincerity in his eyes spoke volumes.

  “I trust you.” She nodded timidly, accepting his help. "I feel like I have a great responsibility resting on my shoulders, but I can’t remember what it is.”

  Keshiema closed her eyes when Fotiá placed his hand over her forehead. Flood gates opened in her mind. Memories rushed back to her with such force her head ached. “Tell me young one, what is your name?”

  She hesitated, her heart growing heavy from the haunting nightmare of a life she could now clearly remember. “Keshiema Chaos.”

  Fotiá raised an eyebrow at her answer. “And why are you here, Keshiema?”

  With her eyes and hair fading to a dull gray, Keshiema's voice trembled, “I’m dying.”