Memori: Tower Shadow Sword - Volume 1

Prologue and Black Chapter 1

There are many seemingly unending roads in the world of Evalon. It's been said that if one does not know where they are going, what they are looking for and why they are looking for it... one could wander these roads forever.

Ves Asirin, who opened his eyes feeling dizzy and disoriented, didn't know where he was going... or why he was traveling down one of Evalon's longest roads in a cranky old bus. Ves was 11 years old, short and small, had a mess of dirty blond hair and dark brown eyes.

The reason Ves didn't know why he was on this bus was that he suffered from a complex memory loss disorder. Once every day, and sometimes twice, he would lose most of his memory after a period of approximately 13 hours.

The caretakers at Orem Church Orphanage, where he'd been raised since he was 2, did not learn of his faulty memory until a few years later but they had always thought he was a little stranger than the other children his age. This was because Ves' disorder had more than just stripped him of a working memory; it had also given him several characteristics that usually developed in children with autism spectrum disorders.

Ves would always stiffen or go limp whenever a caretaker picked him up rather than cling or cuddle up to them like the other children. He lacked many typical social behaviours as he grew; showing little or no interest in group activities.  He often seemed unaware of the needs and feelings of others. He failed to respond adequately when any of the other orphans was hurt or in distress. He rarely smiled or made eye contact with anyone.

He usually played alone, often engaging in repetitious activities such as arranging objects in meaningless patterns, flipping light switches on and off, and staring at rotating objects for long periods of time. Sometimes he would spin in circles or snap his fingers continuously for hours. In some cases these habits were harmful, involving repeated biting of his wrists or the banging of his head against the wall.

As a result of his limited interaction with others, Ves had great difficulty with language. He developed a very slow and awkward manner of speech. He spoke only when he felt he absolutely needed to ...  he completely failed to learn how to read and write.

When Ves was 8, a child psychologist from the city visited the orphanage at the request of one of the caretakers and took an interest in him. The doctor was the first to learn of Ves' memory disorder. Fortunately, to the relief of the caretakers, he learned that not all of Ves' memories were lost after the 13-hour time period.

Slowly but surely, and with some concentrated effort on his part, Ves did remember some things. Memories of the faces, places and things that Ves saw, came in contact or interacted with on a daily basis were not easily forgotten. He also retained many habits and behaviors easily, especially those of a physical nature.

Over the time that he worked with the doctor, Ves changed or forgot most of his seemingly autistic characteristics and behaviours. He was timid and humble for the most part, but he could be really stubborn at times and was easy to anger. He avoided situations that he thought were troublesome, mentally tasking and stressful. Mostly keeping to himself, he never ventured out of the orphanage's yard without a cause of his own.

That was why, on this strange night, he couldn't understand how he'd ended up on the bus, so far away from the comfort zone of the familiar orphanage ...

He knew, of course, that the most logical thing to do was to ask the bus driver about it. So he stood up from his seat, walked to the front of the vehicle, and approached the man behind the wheel.

"Um, excuse me," he said slowly, "but, um, where are we going?"

The driver did not answer him immediately. He turned to Ves and looked at him from head to toe with a slight expression of concern on his face.

"Treper's Field. That's where you said you were headed, wasn't it?" the driver said.

Ves raised his brows in disbelief... he had no idea where Treper's Field was.

"And ... where did you pick me up from, sir?" he asked further.

"Meden Dale, two miles from the Tower of Parlen Min, less than half an hour ago. Don't you remember?" the driver replied.

After a moment of silence, the driver looked away from the obviously confused boy and continued to stare at the road ahead, steering the wheel gently. Ves turned around and returned to his seat trying his best to recall the locations the driver had mentioned but nothing came to mind.

Over the years, after habitual conditioning, and with his doctor's help, Ves had learned to leave himself reminders, or rather clues, to help him remember, as best as he could, where he'd been or what he'd been doing in the last 13 hours before his memory failed. These clues sometimes triggered vivid visions from his lost memories.

He usually left these clues in his backpack. These clues could be anything from ordinary objects like scraps of paper, candy wrappers, bottle caps, rocks, or leaves that he picked up at any location he wanted to remember. Most importantly, he left these clues in the form of sketches in his scrapbook; his most prized possession. He reached over his shoulder for his backpack... but, it wasn't there. This was even more disconcerting to him... he never went anywhere without his backpack, never.

Frantically, he turned to look carefully at his own body, which could be a very useful clue as well. More to his shock, he found cuts and bruises all over his skin. His clothes were ripped and burnt in certain parts. There was a wound just above his right knee; it had been bandaged tightly, but surprisingly he didn't feel any pain from it, only a slight soreness.

There was another wound on the back of his left hand — an ominous burn mark or branding of sorts ... a strange V- or W-shaped symbol in a circle. He stared at that particular wound in horror for a while, though he did not touch it... no, he didn't want to touch it.

He suddenly noticed how uncomfortable and bare his feet were... when he looked down at them he realized why. He was wearing flip-flops that he didn't remember owning... no, he was certain, they weren't his. He took one of them off and examined it. The size of it was slightly bigger than his foot... and there was something distinctively feminine about it too.

He also realised that he is wearing some sort of cap over his head ... a beanie ... it wasn't his either. He pulled it off and examined it closely as well. It is was navy blue with a faded label on the front.

Wherever Ves had been before he'd boarded this bus, these two things—the flip-flops and the beanie—must have belonged to the last two people he'd been with... or at least the two people that he'd most wanted to remind himself of... but sadly he couldn't remember them.

Ves bent over, placed his head in the palms of his hands and groaned. A strong feeling of anxiety and dread swept over him. What had happened to him in the last 13 hours? His memory loss had never, in his whole life, been that bad. Why couldn't he remember even one thing? Who... or what had put him in such a sorry state?

Whatever it was, he sensed, must have been terrible and devastating; something that had thrown the life he'd lived before then into total disarray and chaos; something that now wanted to remain forgotten. But ... he wouldn't let it go. Something... anything... had to come back to him... it had to... or he would wander Evalon's roads forever...