Torn - Prologue

By Anarin no Miko

When I awoke, I had only three clues to my existence.

First was a tattoo on my left shoulder going down my arm, a black arrangement of pen strokes that I was certain meant something. Unfortunately, I couldn't remember how to decipher the figures - the knowledge of that seemed to have vanished, along with me name, memories and clothing.

The second clue was a medallion that seemed to be made of some kind of purple metal, if you can believe that, which was hanging around my neck on a silver chain too small to fit over my head. It had no clasp, and the silver was bright even in the darkness. I wondered how I had put it on in the first place as I examined the medallion, which, though all my surroundings were strange, seemed very familiar. The design was very simple: three dots surrounding a triangle. It looked durable, yet beautiful, and I knew that it was useful in some way. I decided quickly that my first goal would be to discover its function in order to help me learn who I was.

The third clue I had was the pain.

Lots of pain.

The physical pain was easy to identify: a large, bloody mess where my right shoulder had been - obscuring a tattoo to match the one on my left, most probably - and what felt like a broken leg on my left. My mouth tasted like furry vomit, and my ears felt as if someone had tried to rip them off my head. Finally, reaching up I discovered that my right side of my scalp was burned and blistering, missing its hair.

The psychological pain was worse. I felt like I was missing part of myself, as if I were a grape with all the juice squeezed out, or a gutted fish.

Those wonderful analogies brought to my attention the fact that I was very hungry.

So I stood up, startling several rats that had been gnawing on the garbage around me, and began to walk quietly and carefully out of the dark alley I had found myself in. Though it was night, both moons were nearly full, so I had plenty of light to see by.

Before I had gotten very far, I was forcefully reminded of my broken leg. Biting back a scream of pain, I slowly limped back to the garbage pile and began to rummage around for something I could use as a splint.

For some reason, finding a human arm in the pile didn't seem to bother me.

After about half an hour, I had found nothing but a very rotten piece of wood with which to make a splint. I had found some rather bloodstained (but otherwise in good condition) dark trousers and a ripped-up, smelly white shirt that I tore up and used to bind the plank to my leg. Biting my lip from the pain, I began to carefully limp away. I was afraid I wouldn't be able to make it to a temple before the sun came up, because my instincts told me that the silence around me was due to the time of night rather than the friendliness of the neighborhood. Alone, unarmed, and wounded, I couldn't begin to hope to fend off more than one attacker. Sure, it would be easier to conceal my one item of value than risk being attacked, but the prospect of wasting more time looking for a smelly, inadequate tunic seemed rather pointless.

The thought of taking it off never occurred to me. Whatever had inflicted this horrible amount of pain to my body had been unable to remove; it was as much a part of me as my hands.

Somehow, although even without my memories I knew I had never been to this city before, my steps were guided to a temple within about three hours. I was about to pass out from the pain by that time, because every step was torture and I had lost a lot of blood, not to mention the mind-splitting hunger and thirst. My feet were raw as well, and the cool marble steps felt like water on a burn.

I sank to the ground, getting my red blood all over their pretty white steps. Thoughts getting fuzzier and fuzzier in my head, I thought I recognized the triad pattern on the door, but the names wouldn't come to me.

Air-water-fire.

Air-fire.

Fire.

Fire.

Blackness as I passed out.