A man in a dark cloak walks up to a silver throne, the occupant hidden by shadows. “Master,” he says in a scratchy croak of a voice. “She is dead.”

“Are you sure?” The man in the throne asks, words twisted with serpentine hisses.

“Yes master. She fought bravely, but we overpowered her. There is no chance of survival.”

“Ah... Her beauty was such a pleasure to my eyes, but she had to be exterminated.” Harsh laughter fills the air, coming from both men. “Thank you, faithful slave. You have done what almost no man has ever done: You have killed a-”

“Master!” Another man runs in, only in his early twenties, dressed in simple farm boy clothes. “I have word from the house- Makayla Rose Abraham is alive.” A wild howl fills the air.

“What? How could this happen?” The man in the throne screams. “No! It must be a lie! You idiot, she can’t be alive! She simply cannot! You,” A gnarled finger emerges from the darkness, pointing at the shocked boy. “Are lying to me. Ranger, dispose of that garbage.”

“Certainly, master.” The cloaked figure raises a black staff, topped with what appears to be a large grey pearl. “I am sorry boy, to kill you so young. But alas, you are a liar and a scoundrel, so you must go.” A bolt of red energy shoots out of the staff, wrapping around the boy faster than lightning. He has time to release a strangled scream before the light squeezes tighter, and he literally pops, blood, gore, and skin splattering the floor and walls.

“Good job, Ranger. Here is your reward.” Writhing blood red snakes spill onto the floor, wrapping around Ranger. His head lolls, and a low moan of enjoyment escapes his lips.

“Such great power... Thank you, master.”

. . . . .

I awaken in a soft bed and a cool cloth pressed to my forehead. Cracking my eyes open, I see a woman who can’t be older than twenty five with shoulder-length, semi-dark blonde hair and green eyes staring at me. “Ah, good to see you up.”

Silken sheets fly off the bed as I sit bolt upright and point at her. “D-don’t come any closer! Who are you? What are you doing here? Wait, what am I doing here?”

She makes a tsk tsk tsk sound with her tongue. “Oh dear. This complicates things terribly. You really can’t remember me?”

“Answer me! I have the right to know where I am and who you are and what I’m doing here.”

“Blasted imbeciles. They must have put a memory charm on you. I wonder how deep it goes...”

“Shut up! You have not answered or even acknowledged any of my questions. I beg of you, tell me why I’m here.”

Her green eyes flare unexpectedly. “Alright, answer one of my questions and I’ll tell you everything I know. If you can’t answer, I will tell you only what I want to.”

“Fine. Ask away.”

“What is your name?” My mouth goes dry.

“I... I don’t know.” What’s wrong with me? I can’t remember my own name. Heck, I can’t remember how old I am or even what I look like. “What did you do to me?”

“Not me, dear. What they did. So let me-”

“Who are they? What on earth-”

“Do not interrupt me!” My mouth snaps shut. “Now would you like me to explain or not?” All I can do is nod. I want answers so bad it hurts. “Good. Your name is Makayla Abraham, Kayla for short. You are one of a dying race. I will not reveal who ‘they’ are, but they want you dead. My name is Clarissa Darling. I am your mentor and caretaker. This is your home. I found you on the battlefield, out cold. I knew they had done something to you, although not this serious. That is all I can tell you for right now.”

“Why can’t you tell me more?”

“Because I don’t want to. The world will make sense to you soon, I promise. But for now you have to rest.” I stretch and begin getting out of bed. “Hold it right there. What did I just say? You’ve had almost all your memories removed. Rest a while, get your strength back.”

“Doesn’t matter. I feel fine. And I want to get up.”

“Alright, fine. What would you like to do?”

“Where’s a mirror? I want to see myself.” I know, I know. My priorities are totally skewed. But I really want to at least be able to picture myself. Clarissa just points to a huge ornate, full-body mirror leaning against the wall. I stand carefully and take a few wobbly steps over to the mirror. When I see my reflection, a gasp leaps through my lips.

My hair is coppery, wavy, and long, a few inches past my waist. I’m thin but not too thin with beautiful curves in just the right places. My skin is almost white, practically glowing. A few freckles dot the cheeks of what I can only describe as a perfect face. Blue eyes glimmer. I’m a respectable height, a little bit taller than five and a half feet. I’m wearing a shoulderless white dress down to my knees.

“You always were gorgeous,” Clarissa says from the bedside. “I’m not ashamed to say I envy you.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, you’re plenty pretty.” I’m telling the truth. Her hair reminds me of the best golden honey, and her features aren’t half bad either.

“Oh stop. Now,” Clarissa sweeps her hand toward the door. “Since you’re feeling so well, you should eat downstairs. Come with me. I’ll take you to dinner.”

“Thank you. I am pretty hungry.” I walk to her side and she grabs my hand. I’m lead out of the room and down long hallways with lots of doors. “So you’re saying all this is mine?”

“Yes. Yours, mine, and... Well, it’s all ours.”

“It’s funny,” I change the subject, even though I’m curious about the pause in her voice. “You’re my mentor, correct?”

“Yes Kayla, I am. And I have been since you were thirteen. By the way, you’re nineteen right now.”

“Alright, so why are you acting like a servant or a nanny or something?”

“Because you had your memory wiped so you’re defenseless as a newborn baby. We will restart your training tomorrow. Oh look, we’re here.” She stops me in front of a huge set of double doors. “Well? Open them up.”

Big brass doorknobs come to my attention. I throw the doors open to reveal a huge dining room. There’s a few what I assume are maids, but what really catches my gaze is the young man sitting at the table.

He has long, black, and slightly uncombed hair that frames his face and sparkling green eyes. Very tall, probably about 6 feet standing up. Well muscled, very handsome, and very pale, just like me. When he sees me, he smiles hugely, revealing perfect white teeth. “Kayla, you’re awake!” He stands, pushing the chair back and striding over quickly to greet me.

“Ah yes. Kayla, this is Dante. You’ve been friends since you were very little. Dante, I’m sorry to say Kayla has no memory of you. In fact, she has no memory of anything.” Dante’s face drops, but he still embraces me tightly.

“That really sucks. Oh well, we can still build new memories, huh?” He rubs his knuckles gently against my head.

“Right.” I say weakly.

“Well,” Clarissa claps her hands twice. “That was all lovely and touching, but we have much to discuss. Take a seat, any seat.”  

“Here, Kayla, sit with me.” Dante beckons me forward, walking backwards slowly. I do as he says, sitting elegantly in an elaborate chair. “Clarissa, what’re we going to do?”

“I don’t know quite yet.”

Dante slams his hand down on the table, making the assorted plates of meat and greens quiver. “You don’t know? Clarissa, you know we need to end this, and end it quickly. Right now, Kayla is in no shape-”

“Will you be quiet for one minute?” Clarissa snaps. “I need to eat.” She ignores both me and Dante’s curious stares, picks up her plate, and begins serving herself. “What? A girl needs to eat. And Dante, I suggest you eat as well.”

“Clarissa, you never fail to amaze me,” Dante shakes his head and smirks. “May the feast begin.”