I had thought my sleep in the wagon would be peaceful. But I was haunted by nonsensical dreams, nightmares of an unknown origin. The blond thief appeared in front of me in a dark space. Standing under a faint red light, she stared into my eyes. Her gaze filled me with confusion and unease.

“You can help us, right?” she said. “But you shouldn’t. You should stay away.”

Where am I?

I couldn’t meet her eyes any longer, so I turned my attention to my surroundings. Was this the same cavern where I had been robbed? No, it was a darker, more forbidding place. The air was stagnant and murky. It reminded me of catacombs or burial chambers. And the gray gravel that covered the ground was like the remains of cremated bodies.

Suddenly, the red light grew strong. The dark world lit up into a vast wasteland, and hundreds of people appeared behind the blond thief. They looked at me with troubled faces and begged with scrabbling tongues.

“Please, you have to do something.”

“We can’t stand it anymore.”

Is this really a nightmare?

There is a fine line between reality and dreams, and I lost sight of it. Everything was vivid; everything felt alive and real. The crowds cleared a path for me, and I walked through them, glancing right and left. What do you want from me? I wanted to ask, but whenever I looked in someone’s face, I hesitated and stayed silent. At the end of my path, I found a dark flame that floated in the air and burned with incredible—but sinister—vitality.

“If you want to help them, surrender to me.” A voice shook the ground, and the dark flame burst into an inescapable conflagration. “There is no other way.”

If I want to help them, I need to surrender to you? What does that even mean?

Before I could ask, I was suddenly and abruptly thrown out of my dream. The neighs of horses resounded through my consciousness; the cat sitting next to me meowed loudly; and I returned to reality. I got up, drew my sword, and jumped off the wagon’s back.

“What’s wrong? Why did you stop?” I asked the driver, an elderly man named Arthur. “Has an Aberration attacked?”

“Lad, we need to do something,” Arthur said and pointed at the distance.

I looked ahead. I could see a blurry figure in the light of dawn: a girl was running in the dense fog and heading toward our wagon. She was falling to the ground but clawing at the mud and rising again. The desperate look on her face said more than any cry for help could express. There was no time to think. I tightened my grip on my sword and dashed toward her.

“This time, it will be a redhead, not a blond thief.” Why, Rick? Why do your predictions come true at the weirdest times?

I had a sense of déjà vu. A girl was in a desperate situation, and I was rushing to her aid without thinking. She might have been a criminal on the run; she might have been another thief. But I chose to trust her pleading eyes. Was I acting like an idiot again? Some people would think so, but I preferred to be called an idiot rather than a heartless sage.

I passed by the red-headed girl, and she looked back at me.

“Don’t worry. I’ll protect you,” I said.

The enemy in pursuit of her consisted of three adult men. One had a pitchfork, while the other two had swords. Far from being warriors or adventurers, they wore clothes patterned with the mud and soil of vegetable fields.

“What do you think you’re doing?” I stood in front of them, and they stopped.

“It’s none of your business! Out of the way!” one of them bawled out.

“Why are you chasing the girl?”

“I said it’s none of your business! If you don’t get out of the way―”

“I won’t.”

“Then we’ll show no mercy!”

The man with the pitchfork held his weapon at his waist and charged at me. He wanted to ram the rusty tines into my body, but his movements were slow and dull. My image was reflected in his eyes for a split second. He saw my black hair and emerald eyes, my brown leather belt and fluttering cape. Then he was out cold.

“What’ve you done? He’s... He’s…”

“He’s not dead, just unconscious.” I rested my sword on my right shoulder. “Your likes should spend time repenting in prison.”

The two remaining peasants hesitated for a second.

“We can’t let the witch escape,” one of them whispered.

They nodded to each other and raised their swords. The first attacked from the front, while the other tried to sneak up on my back. Avoiding their swords, I kicked dust in their faces.

“My eyes!”

“Where did you go, you nosy brat?”

They brandished their swords, but none of their attacks landed on target. With a quick spin, I kicked their calves and threw them off balance. When their swords fell from their hands, I delivered two blows, one with my sword’s grip and another with my fist. They joined their companion in the world of dreams.

Arthur, the wagon driver, arrived at the scene.

“You weren’t playing an old man for a fool.” He stared at me in wide-eyed wonder. “When you said all that stuff about being an adventurer, you meant it.”

“Yeah,” I smiled. “We need rope to tie them up.”

“Right away, lad.”

Arthur hurried back to the wagon, and I approached the red-headed girl. At some point during the fight, she had fallen to the ground.

“Are you all right?” I extended my hand to her.

“I sprained my ankle.”

“I’ll help you stand up,” I smiled. “Let’s walk back to the wagon together.”

“Thank you,” she said and took my hand. “They wanted to kill me, and I had to keep on running. I couldn’t stop, no matter what.”

“You’re safe now.”

We grew silent and started to walk. Taking a closer look at her, I realized how cute and petite she was. Her bangs formed an arch that covered her forehead, and her eyes appeared below it like two well-guarded jewels. Her face rivaled the blond thief’s in beauty, but she seemed shyer and more delicate.

“Is something wrong?” she asked.

“No, no, no, it’s nothing!” I stiffened like a statue but then calmed down.

When I started to look at her more objectively, I noted several things. First, she was a town girl: her clothes, a simple dress with an apron, indicated that she came not from a city but from a small or mid-sized town. I had been traveling for almost two days, so she may have come from Ashenbrook. I also noticed that she had neither bags nor belongings, so she couldn’t have been a thief who was running away from the crime scene. She must’ve been chased for a different reason.

“What’s your name?”

“Huh?” She looked a bit startled. “I think… it’s Marie…”

You think?

We arrived where the wagon was waiting. Marie sat in the back, letting her snow-white feet dangle near the left wheel, while I searched for something to alleviate the pain in her ankle. I thought that ice and bandages would do the trick for now. But before I could find any, I heard her screaming.

“What’s wrong?” I turned around and reached for my sword.

“Get it away from me!” she shouted at Arthur’s cat. “I’m afraid of those!”

“Afraid of cats?”

“Yes, get it away! Quick!”

She’s really a weird one, isn’t she? I carried the cat, went around the wagon, and placed it on the driver’s seat. It meowed as if to protest its sudden relocation, and I sighed. Then Arthur was back.

“Why the long face, lad?” he said. “Come on, I tied those peasants real tight. Let’s scoop them up and serve them fresh to the authorities.”

“Are we close to Ashenbrook?”

“Close? We’re almost there.” He flopped down into his seat and petted his cat. “It’s only a few minutes from here.”

“Great, but the girl’s foot needs treatment.”

“Should’ve told me that first.” He stood up with a muffled moan. “Come on, let’s see the patient.”

We moved to the back of the wagon, where Arthur revealed an assortment of potions. He moved Marie’s foot slowly, watching her face for signs of pain. After he had determined where the injury was, he opened a bottle and sprayed her foot with a murky orange potion.

“That’d fix it!” He wiped the sweat off his forehead. “I dubbed this one the miracle of life. Heals muscle and bone. Potent stuff.”

“I don’t feel the pain anymore,” Marie said.

“We need you in the labyrinths, Arthur,” I smiled. “You’d make a good medic.”

“I was a great medic, some thirty years ago,” he laughed. “But now I’m too old for all the thrill and thrash.”

“You’ll never be too old to join my team,” I said. Then I turned my attention to Marie, who seemed to have calmed down a bit, and asked, “Can you tell us why you were being chased?”

“I… I don’t know.”

“Are you sure you have no clue?” Arthur said.

“Yes,” she replied. “I didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Well, where are you from? And how did the chase begin?” I said. And although I sounded like an interrogator, I was only concerned about the situation. I needed to know whether we should expect more enemies.

“I… I don’t know,” she said.

“You don’t know where you’re from?”

“I can’t remember.” She held her head and grimaced in pain. “I only remember my name... and that I saw this flash at night.”

A flash? I was ready to laugh at this peculiar detail but then remembered something. Strange lights were reported in the quest description. If we’re this close to Ashenbrook, it might not be a coincidence.

“Where did you see the flash?” I said. “And what happened after you saw it?”

“I don’t remember anything. I woke up to this chase. Please believe me!”

I stopped pressing for answers, realizing that I had pressured her too much.

“I wish I could tell you everything,” she added. “I’m not even sure whether my real name is Marie, but I think it is. I might remember more with time.”

I turned to Arthur and said, “Do you mind if we take her with us to Ashenbrook? We can’t leave her on her own like this.”

“You’re right, lad. When we reach Ashenbrook, everything will clear up.”

“I hope so,” I said.

Am I really up against an Aberration?

The reports of the disappearances made me think that a monster awaited me in Ashenbrook. But this strange incident, which occurred before my eyes, left me doubtful and puzzled. Marie saw a flash, lost her memory, and woke up to a chase. This bizarre sequence may have been relevant to my quest, but it was still too early to make assertions. I was on my way to Ashenbrook, and the mystery was still unfolding.