REMEMBER.REMEMBER.That word haunts me. It echoes in the depths of my mind like a distant thundercp., I try to grasp its meaning each time it strikes, but it slips away like water through my fingers.

  Light hits my eyes. Cold sweat drenches my skin. as I came into sciousness I know I have fotten something, Again. Another dream, another failed attempt to remember something—something important. It gs to me, always just beyond my reach, gnawing at the bay mind. Every m, I wake like this, trembling, searg for something I ot name.

  What is it that I’ve lost? Why does it matter so much?

  Ever since I was a child, I’ve felt it—that pull. As if I was meant to remember something fotten. its always close as if it was oip of my Tongue. But the memory never es. It hides in the shadows, taunting me.

  Maybe that's why I keep diving bato my mind re-living the past, who knows?, maybe something will help me figure out what I am looking for.

  I was born on a cold, bitter winter night to a woman of the Bronlo tribe. My mother, Ran, was a gatherer, leatherworker, and cook. She told me how the tribe was formed—how Bronlo, our namesake, was banished from his inal tribe and cast out with a group of other exiles. Weak, fotten people. The unwanted.

  The tribe members were like Bronlo banished for different reasons, the most on was not enough food for everyone so the weak and less ected got kicked out first, 'one less mouth to feed'. Getting banished was a good thing, better thaernative, some tribes shift to ibalism in bad times.

  but out here there is no pce for the lonely, They had no choice but to band together to survive.

  But survival has a cost.

  “There’s no pce for the weak,” my mother used to say. “We’re only safe as long as we’re useful.”

  My mother warned me that we are sidered weak and less ected in our tribe, and that's why we must work and fix our position, we t survive alone.

  She was right, fear of loneliness and the need for a sense of belonging and shared identity built this tribe, but there are limits to tribal unity when starvation hits.

  Her words haunt me as much as my dreams. We’re the weak ones here. The expendable ones. And if the tribe ever decides we’ve outlived our usefulness... Well, exile is the ki fate pared to what might e .

  Our tribe isn’t stationary. We travel from cave to cave, scraping out a living from the nd, always on the move. Always running. From hunger, from predators, from the dark things that lurk just beyond the firelight.

  The cave we call home now is different from the er, deeper. Safe, for now. It’s surrounded by open fields, where nothing hide. The sun rises directly into the cave entrance, illuminating everything. During the day, the light is our shield. But at night... At night, things ge.

  that's why the entrance was walled-off with a stone wall built with rge stones, and Barricade with wooden braces on the wall and cave door, that was to keep the cave safe from what lurks in the dark. The pce was good and safe, a big deep cave for a small tribe of 32 that relied on cooperation for survival.

  People t survive on there own, Hunting, gathering food, and defending themselves from predators were all easier with a group. Living together allowed us to share in the fruit's of knowledge, skills, and resources.

  knowledge and skills were passed from father to son and mother to daughter. and family resources and tools were ied, yet every family had something to tribute to the whole. As families grew and geions lived together, they would fer groups with extended family members.

  but our tribe is young. a semi-nomadic tribe, moving around to find food and resources in the Forest and pins. avoiding predators, and monsters. Then run back as fast as possible to hide in caves before night.

  The semi-nomadic lifestyle of jumping from cave to cave as we traveled, it ended when Bronlo noticed that the old cave was too small for the growing tribe and found this cave.

  it's perfectly in the ter of a rge area covered mainly with trees and undergrowth. Yet mostly open filed, open was good, ope that nothing was hiding behind that hill or tree, and open was safer to move in. And the sun rises directly into the cave entra's a perfee.

  Until my father Harlo died, he was a hunter and a spearmaker. Harlo named me ???? Anir. Later, I learhat people have a on name used on an everyday basis and a secret name used in private rituals to never be shared except with the spirits. And they could have a variety of niames.

  All I know is my name is Anir a term in my fathers old tribe that meant light spirit el, am not sure he died before I was wise enough to ask for crification. And I don't know what my secret name is, it died with my father.Maybe that is for the best, a secret 't be exposed if no one is alive to share it.

  as for his death, he died on the hunt after a saber-tooth tiger noticed him before he noticed it. I was five years old at the time. Before he taught me more than the rudiments of the hunt-hand-speech or spear making or actual hunting.

  My mother Ran, found herself without a husband and with a five-year-old to feed, just as wiarted, And with the low hunting the food was low and in times of hunger only the hunters eat enough, the rest of use get the scraps from the unal pot. so she wiped her tears and search for new mate.

  I don't remember him clearly, he was a hunter-gatherer, his first proposal to her was a fish, but our new source of food didn't st, after one year he developed pains iomach, it happened five nights after he started beating her, He was a simple cruel man if he had ay belly then he would be violent, he hit me only ohen he died the day in the slow agonizing end. Poison? Disease? I never asked.

  Now am nine winters old, In my small fur bed. I stopped thinking about the past and stood up notig a light beam that ehe cave and woke me up.

  Our little er ihe cave was triangur.

  two wooden poles, ected to the cave wall and then to a support wooden pole to form a triahe two poles were used as walls, which was achieved by the tree vihat were Hanging on the wood, and covered with mud for privacy, finally more tree vines as door.

  it was the best privacy we could get inside a cave, and it was our little home.

  My mother's voiterrupted my thoughts “Anir stop zying, and go get us some water, I o start w and the water pot is empathy”

  “Yes Mom, I will be back.” Pig up the water pot I started walking out.

  “Be careful not to break the pot, and Wash your face, the cold water will wake you up,,, Lazy boy.”

  As I exited I looked at the sky, The day was cold with a gray sky, and winter was closer.

  I walked to the river passing some hunters and women with kids, they where clearing the path to the small shallow river, to make it safer, with no shadows or hiding spots.

  That made my trip safer, as I walked again I tried to remember the stupid dream that kept running from me.

  I’m different. I’ve known it since I was six years old. That was when the visions began—fshes of pces I’ve never seen, of knowledge I’ve never learhey e to me in my dreams, during the day, even when I’m awake.

  They were random and short.

  After every vision, I learned something knew like how to push my aura out and take in mana, or how to move my mana in my body and aura, and how to take the ambient mana in to use for warmth. I did it without even knowing, I was so young. At first, I thought it was normal. I thought everyone could feel the pull of their aura, and could sense mana in the air. just like walking, we all did it.

  But it wasn’t long before I realized I was alone in this. I could push mana through my body for warmth in the freezing winters. I could use it to defend myself from the older children who tried to bully me.

  Slowly the vision became longer and stranger, I started colleg hematite stones, and other stuff that looked importa i don't know why I want them. I had dreams and knowledge of things I have never done.

  And then there was Grandpa—the strange old man who visited me in my dreams. 'grandpa is a strange name!,' I traveled with him in the forests that where unfamiliar to me, He showed me how to survive, how to wield my aura like a shield, and how to shape tools, knives, and ons. He took me into the forests, where we stayed out even during the dark hours, and we didn't die!.

  The visions also had ideas in them, fshes of prehension, ideas about better spears, better flint knife, where to hid one, and how to use it if I was attacked, a better way to shape my aura to protect me from the knife or cold as if it was thick Fur.

  That was a good thing to learn because In winter all we had where our thick Furs, and we couldn't start a fire in the cave, it would kill us, the fire is small and outside the cave to keep the monsters away.

  We had smoke problems wheing the fire inside so mostly it was done only when we had to.

  Heating rock was a good idea at first then it wasn't when it's your job to heat them outside and bring them into the cave, that be done only before the cave is sealed, and using hot rocks was dangerous, that's why I found the aura trick important.

  Aura warmth, That one saved my life in the past winter, I still remember one of the baby's tribe not surviving the winter, it was a sad night for the tribe.

  The arick I learned was how to push arying to bully me down in an arm lock, that made my pytime with the other older kids really fun. It didn't get me any new friends, but it stopped them from bullying me.

  Then the clothing ideas on how to shape the fur, and skins for better prote from the cold, that idea made my mothers leather work liked among our little tribe, the leather jackets where a real life-saving gift, and wheraded with other tribes, she even mao get to show others how to do what she did for a payment of food, pots, and more leather.

  It helped us at difficult times.

  The years passed, and I noticed am different from others I was smarter or wiser maybe both, and maybe a bit more evil!?.

  No, am not evil, The word I am looking for is selfish, yes that's the word, selfish.

  My instincts tell me that I am not meant to live like this—owerless, relying on others for survival.

  One night after I told my mother about my ideas and how I see better ways to do things, she was both happy and worried. My mother warned me about standing out too much, but I couldn’t help it. I saw the way things could be improved—the better ways to shape leather, to craft tools, to harness mana. It felt like sed nature.

  In a loving voice, she would whisper, "It's as if wisdom was whispered to you, Anir you are blessed." Her voice ged into a warning tone, "just remember not to let your fire outshihers, jealousy is as dangerous as the saber-tooth".

  At the age of ten and a half, I somehow uood what she was saying to me. I noticed how the kids didn't like it when I showed them my small skin backpack, A bag carried by a strap on my shoulder, I noticed how they wa, but a memory of my arms lock teique mixed with my monkey-fist a stoed to short leather rope, previous demonstrations of how I bring the pain stopped them from taking anything from me.

  My backpack was my backpack, They always looked at it, until the day their mothers traded with my mom to make them backpacks for their husbands, and the kids.

  Then I slowly found myself more and more lonely when it ytime.

  People noticed it, they subsciously feel am not part of the group, its in how I walked, talked, how I set, a, I noticed the looks they gave me.Even in the words I used, I uood Am not a part of the pack, yes that's it am Just alone Wolfe.

  They avoided me more and more, especially after I started using my aura in ways they couldn’t uand. They resented my intelligend my strange skills. Even my mother, though proud, often looked at me with a mix of awe and fear.

  I learo keep my talents hidden. The few friends I had were gone, and I found myself increasingly alone.

  Except for Monire—another outcast. But even his pany was ditional, something fleeting. I had bee the lone wolf, surviving in isotion. I knew I o ge that. The lone wolf dies in the night.I o belong again. I o fix what I’d broken. But how?

  Soon I will be fourteen, my adulthood test will start, and I o be ready.

  I pted that idea as I heard the water flow and looked at the shallow water, it was safe, close, and nothing will jump at me, yet still I looked very carefully around me.

  That's when I noticed the area we were warned not to approach it, the area had is that kill, and an Idea slowly formed in the bay mind.

  I filled my pot and walked bae.

  Bae I found my mother outside the cave in her work spot, with the leather, I gave the water pot to my mother the into the cave, I picked up my flint knife, and the leather I o work on outside where there was sunlight.

  I did my normal leather work, cutting strips to make strings and rope, we used it with a boon needle to make good clothing like the winter jackets.

  I cut, and cut, then took some breaks for water and food then worked more leather.The work was difficult the stone knife lost its edge fast, I needed a better knife.I stopped frozen in my pce, I almost remembered something about a shiny knife!

  “Anir stop dreaming and work you zy fool.” My mom’s voice brought me back to reality.

  “Sorry,” I went back to work, and as I did I tio think about my pn to fix my lonely wolf problem.

  My mother and I worked all day, she cut skin and made it into good pieces to be ected ter to make jackets and backpacks or pants and boots, bs, and beds.

  This year our work will be good sent to other tribes to exge for other things, like good flint knifes, spears, pots, and those hemp ropes, the moment I saw them I told my mother how we use them for better leatherwork, and other things like s.

  My mother and I kept the ideas and pns for our selves until we will be ready to show the work, our tribe would feed us to get them the extra tools, it will make our position stronger iribe.

  When today's work was finished, we collected our things and pced them inside our home in the cave.

  Before it went dark I went to the river for more water, the night is long, and having water close is good even if am not thirsty.

  As I walked to the river to fetch water, my mind reoccupied with the same thoughts. The dream—the one I ever fully remember— me again. It’s always there, always lingering. What am I missing?

  As I dipped my pot into the water, something reflected sunlight at me,

  A glint caught my eye, just beh the surface. I k, pushing aside a stone, and there it was—a small, yellow rock, an Aura stone, a gold he size of my thumb.

  Gold?, That’s a new word huh am superb at naming things, but the hunters call it aura rock or stohey said it could enhaheir aura abilities, yet I never learned how and am no hunter only hunters are allowed to show their sons how to use it.

  I pyed with the heavy gold thing moving it in my hand, it felt so close to my aura, and for some reason, the worthless yellow thing looked/felt... important. More than that—it felt like it was meat, "maybe I should make a . Huh!!, what's a ? Why does it feel so familiar?", strange words are in my head again. ‘Yes there is something I o,,, I must,,, shit I lost it’. The idea in my head It's like a squirrel impossible to catch.

  I shifted my attention back to the gold, The hunters would trade for it, I knew, but something deep inside me told me to keep it. To take it home, to bed, and sleep with it near my head, my skin.

  ‘It's my precious’.

  The cold wind hitting my fad wet hand broke my tration, and I remembered why I was there.

  I slipped it into my fur clothing, hiding it from sight. And with the heist I went back to the cave, this time I went fast because I didn't want to be out at night or even at su and because the food was ready.

  The food pots where cooked outside, and as the smell hit me, my stomach woke-up and told me to feed it.

  As I ehe cave and pced the water pot near my mother, she picked up our diner pots ao get us food, I waited and turned back to watch the tribe settle down for the night.

  Our tribe's routines were different from day to day, but not as much as it seems, there is always a pattern in how people moved, talked, or did things.

  Some things repeat daily others take days or months, yet they repeat.

  It all starts with Some of the men going around the area to search the perimeter for any danger, others stay and protect the women and children as they collect vegetables pnts, and they keep an eye on any small animal that be caught, then all the hunters go hunt after they make sure there are ners nearby, and for extra safety the children and women hid ba the cave or stay near it when there are few men watg.

  Sometimes most of the men go to hunt and the tribe hides or some stay watch over the gatherers and o hunt. It's a mess that has order to it, is there an injured man, or are the men fighting and having no social cohesion to go together, that's when they argue more about who stays and who leaves.

  But there is one stant in all of this.

  I noticed that one of the Bronlo family members is always with the hunters, talking or listening, the men in rge groups are never aloogether without a Bronlo present for leadership. Why is that? the men don't look stupid to me to need a guiding hand all day.

  I dropped that thought and watched shaman woman Tahya work, she's Bronlo’s wife she's our shaman and medie woman, I watched her use some of Yesterday’s ash in ritual, it was mixed with mud and used as paint to cover the cave outer wall and around the entrance, and on the wooden door.

  As the su dowing closer to darkness, she always worked on the door and wall.

  I sometimes like to watch her work when no one is looking at me, that woman had body that made men drool.

  Here eyes moved my-way, and I looked off beyond her making it look as if I am looking at the sleeping men in the cave.

  Those mehe night watchers, and as I predicted when the shadows from the sunlight hitting the door were just low enough in position I marked ihe cave.

  The night watchers woke up from the nap they always take before the long night, am not sure if it's the smell of food or the he tribe makes when its food time that woke them.

  My mother came to me with the food, and she went to eat and talk with the other women, and I looked around watg.

  My focus tonight was the watchers after they fiheir food.

  I listeo them talk about the sleeping schedule and who would be on it, they talked and worked, they were pg the fire wood that was collected by the other tribe members today and pilled outside the cave and preparing the Inse to be burned in the fire.

  We called it the dark spirits banishment ritual, and I have seen it every-night as far as I remember, I watched every detail, someday I will be the man to do it.

  Maybe it will banish the spirits haunting me when I see fire, I don't like fire When I look into the fmes, I see visions of people, of an empire burning, but the visions are hazy. What's an empire?.

  I ighe question and looked at the watchers.

  Their job was simple yet important, only the truly trusted are given the job, it's too important to let children do it. Or for one man aloo do it, that's why five did it with the shaman in training as the sixth man watg, more like listening, there is nothing to be seen or could be seen outside, the cave will be fully sealed leaving only small air holes, and it's dark outside, we only see the small dim light from Inse-fire outside that be seen through the watch holes, and the rush-light ihe cave the night watchers used, its dim light but good enough for ao find the pissing hole.

  The rush-light was kept burning all night to easily light a more rush-light during the night and start a new fire in the m.

  The cave door was being sealed—the heavy wooden logs pushed into pce, it wasn't even an actual door, just wooden logs on-top of each-other and braced with more wood, it's not stone, but It Prevents what's in the dark from entering.

  As the sun dipped below the horizon, the cave transformed. The small fire inside burned low, once bright and warm, and was reduced to glowing embers, casting long, flickering shadows on the walls. The shaman, her face streaked with ash, whispered a words, smearing mud across the inside of the entrao keep the dark things at bay. I watched the others—the way they huddled together, eyes darting toward the cave’s mouth, afraid to speak too loudly, afraid to look out into the night.

  I don’t like the night

  Unusual events begin to happen in the night, around the cave-dwelling and its surrounding area.

  Animals bee restless, and strange noises are heard at night, I think I once heard ughter—a twisted, thirsty sound that sent chills down my spine., whatever made it, it souhirsty.

  In the m when we walk too far from the cave we find cw marks orees and some rocks, what could make marks on rocks?.

  When it was my time to sleep, as I y in my fur bed, I ched the golden in my hand. Its warmth pulsed in my palm. I tightened my grip keeping it safe, and closed my eyes, clutg the ighter.

  ~REMEMBER~The word echoed in my mind, louder this time, more urgent. But as always, the answer slipped away, leaving me grasping at shadows.

  ~REMEMBER~And then, for the first time, I dreamed not of Grandpa, but of something else. A throne. A kingdom in fmes. Whatever it was, I k beloo me.

  ~REMEMBER~