A gentle breeze. The buzz of cicadas. The sounds that usually occupied the night could no longer be heard. At this moment, the sky split with a single meteor’s fiery descent with a peculiar roar that could be heard for miles. It carved its way towards the earth, trailing vivid streaks of green and purple. The eerie light spilled across the snowbound land underneath, painting it in shifting, unnatural hues.

  Below, folk gathered in clusters, their voices hushed as they pointed skyward with trembling fingers. Murmurs spread and more came out of their shelters to awe at what was above. The unbroken snow lay in solemn stillness, for the earth itself was holding its breath.

  Far removed from all gazes stood a man, a solitary figure who was completely calm in the chaos of the moment. He was distant, his silhouette sharp against the dim horizon. Not a single speck of snow could be seen around him, for he was on a different land entirely. The fiery rock was but a small dot in his vision, a faint flicker in the infinite black.

  The wind clawed at him, tugging at his short white hair. His hand rose to adjust the mask that hid his face. It was adorned with three triangles stacked in a vertical formation, all centered around a single, watchful painted eye. The mask obscured his expression, but the tone of his voice could be heard just fine.

  "Do you see that, Christa? The harbinger of misfortune has finally arrived."

  He stood tall atop a towering structure, his posture as unyielding as his confidence. The height, the power, it suited him. He welcomed the meteor’s arrival with a tone that hinted at both anticipation and amusement.

  "Welcome back. I wish you the best of luck in your survival... and your mission."

  "I look forward to seeing your accomplishments in this land of Titans."

  The boy’s eyes fluttered open to a world of smoke. An acrid stench bit at his throat with every breath he took. His chest heaved painfully, each gasp was a desperate effort against the foul air. Meanwhile, cold seeped into his back, and he realized that he was laying upon a soft, wet sludge. His vision was a watery blur, distorted by tears born of the thick surrounding fumes. He tried to push himself up, but his arms rebelled. His mind was no better. It was an empty cavern echoing with a single, desperate thought:

  Where am I?

  Eventually, the smoke began to part to partially reveal a rather unpleasant scene. Around him, the snow had turned into a blackened sludge. He was in the middle of a crater, and he could just make out the edges.

  Two figures emerged from the haze, their silhouettes barely visible. The boy blinked against the sting of his tears as he struggled to focus on them. The first of the figures was a boy. He was tall and broad-shouldered, his parted hair a pale blue. His expression was both cold and unsettled as he looked towards the fallen boy. Beside him stood a girl, slighter of frame. Unlike her companion, her gaze was bright and there was more of a leap in her step. Long bangs framed her face, and her hair fluttered in the wind like a group of dancing butterflies. Their white uniforms had been tainted by the surrounding grime, but even in such a disheveled state, they both carried an air of chilling authority.

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  The somber boy was the first to act. He raised a hand and a blade of pure ice formed within it. He grasped the handle firmly, levelling the end of the blade hover inches away from the boy’s throat. The threat was executed so effortlessly, it felt almost practiced.

  “Who are you?” the boy demanded as the sword in his hand gleamed with maliciousness.

  The fallen boy opened his mouth to answer, but he responded with silence. His mind was empty of both memories and meaning. He searched desperately within himself and found only a single thing.

  “My name is Sorn,” he rasped. His first words barely cracked out of his raw throat.

  The girl leaned forward curiously. Her expression bordered on playfulness but when she spoke, her voice carried a hint of caution. “So, he speaks our language,” she remarked.

  The girl stepped closer carefully, as though she were approaching a feral beast. “I’m Crystal, and that’s Keilan. Say hi, Keilan.”

  Keilan didn't waver for a second, and neither did his sword.

  “Where are you from?” he asked.

  “I don’t know.”

  “Where do your allegiances lie?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Keilan’s frown went from scrutiny to confusion. “Explain the meteor you fell out of.”

  “Meteor?” Sorn repeated. He glanced around at the smoldering crater and ruined snow, but the word held no meaning for him.

  Keilan continued to give him a studying glare. “Do you remember anything?”

  Sorn tried to rise, but again his trembling arms pressed weakly into the slush, and his efforts proved unfruitful. “No,” he said at last.

  The blade of ice wavered for a moment before it dissolved into nothingness. Keilan straightened, and his expression had not become kinder. “Fine. Get up. You’re coming with us.”

  He turned to leave, but Crystal stepped into his path.

  “You can’t be serious,” Keilan said. “What do you want me to do? Leave him here? This isn’t a decision for us. The Council has to decide his fate.”

  Crystal’s smile grew as she responded. “I’ll take him to the hut, I have a few questions of my own.”

  Keilan’s tone was slowly growing in frustration. “The Council won’t take kindly to this,” he said. “And Toren’s group is already investigating.”

  “They won’t find us,” Crystal replied with a breezy confidence.

  Keilan stared at her for a moment longer before turning away. “Do what you want,” he said curtly. He walked away, not bothering to give further notice to Sorn.

  Crystal knelt beside the amnesiac boy, her smile softening. “What do you think, um, was it Sorn? What should we have done with you?”

  Sorn met her gaze, as he attempted to get up again. This time, he was successful. “I don’t want to die,” he said simply.

  Crystal’s eyes peered deep into his. Her gaze was so focused, it was almost uncomfortable, and Sorn shifted back a bit. “Were you really in that meteor?” she asked.

  “I don’t remember,” Sorn said again.

  Crystal laughed softly. “I see.”

  Then, without warning, she leaned forward and tapped his forehead with her finger. His weakened body crumpled back onto the ground, and his vision began to swim. The last thing he saw was a blurry picture of the girl standing over him, her hand over her mouth in a dramatized fashion.

  “Oops.” The playfulness in her voice betrayed that she hadn’t made a mistake.

  Then, his world faded to black.