The Winter Phoenix (WAYHAUGHT)

The shift

Nicole's grandmother placed a steaming mug of tea before her. "Your friend speaks the truth. This sacrifice you made for our people will have been for nothing if it is not honoured."

"You're talking at me like I should know these things," Nicole replied. "I no longer know who any of you are." Her hand shook as she cupped it around the drink. "I woke up this morning, got dressed, ate breakfast, granola if you must know, did a weekly shop, came home, went to work. And, now this. All this."

"You'll have to trust us," her grandmother said.

"Trust you? Okay, so tell me, how come I supposedly lose all my memories, but Trixie here, and whoever you are haven't. Yeah, so not buying into this. This is some kind of insurance scam, isn't it?"

"Because," Wynonna replied, looking at Nicole's grandmother. "Because, we can elect to leave the realm by choice. You, on the other hand can't. You are bound to the realm, because of who you are."

Nicole stared at Wynonna, hearing her words, disbelieving every single one. Her ability to distinguish up from down, left from right all she had left to suggest she wasn't going mad. "That's bollocks. That's total bollocks. Okay, okay, so if I'm bound to the realm then how come I'm here? Hey, answer me that."

"Well," Wynonna replied, "without your memories you pretty much can go anywhere."

Nicole swiped the full mug of tea off the table. "You expect me to believe all this. I'm Nicky Heston. I have a crap job, which brings in just enough to pay my bills, while studying to be an accountant. My love life sucks. My so-called boyfriend didn't remember my last birthday. I don't even have my own place, or a mortgage."

"Doesn't that kind of worry you?" Wynonna asked, as the older woman placed a handful of paper towels over the spilled drink.

"Not having a mortgage? Sure, keeps me awake at night."

"I mean having a life that seems to be beyond mundane and going absolutely nowhere. At your age."

"Like you have a life. I go all over London. And, and...at least I get out. That's good enough for me."

"Right, only it's not is it" Wynonna replied. "You and I both know there's something more to life than transporting people back and forth in a tin can on wheels."

"Like you're the one with a fantastic lifestyle. All day sleeping, all night writing. What exactly are you writing?"

"If you must know, it's a history of my people. I believe once finished it will be well received."

Nicole's grandmother placed another mug of tea on the table. "Try to be a little more careful with this one," she offered. "May I speak with your friend a moment?"

Nicole took it between her hands, its heat the only other reference point on her rapidly diminishing grip on reality. What if I am who they say I am? Whoever that is? But, I would know that. I would feel it. There is no fucking way I'm who they say I am. I'm being played here. But why? Her left hand instinctively went to the necklace retrieved from the floor of her bedroom, massaging the stone between her fingers.

Her mind cleared as she stared into the brown liquid, the older woman now speaking, a language similar to that Wynonna used, a language to which she had no connection, or understanding.

"If the treaty has been broken," Nicole's grandmother said, "danger lies ahead. For all of us."

"We are at a disadvantage. She knows nothing of her past. She didn't even recognise the love of her life."

"This is what they wanted all along. Our people have been played by a cunning snake."

"There is no way she can return," Wynonna continued. "To do so will bring about a war we have little chance of winning."