Gareth was moving with a brisk pace towards the village head's house, towing me by the hand.
I was busy analyzing the village as we ran, my eyes darting from structure to structure, taking in everything with the awareness that twelve years of military service had burned into my brain.
It was a small village, around forty to fifty houses mostly made with stone and wood, the construction was rough but functional in a way that spoke of people doing the best they could with limited resources.
However, most of the houses were empty now. People were migrating for a long time now, abandoning their homes. The evidence was everywhere—doors hanging open, windows dark and lifeless, yards overgrown with weeds that nobody bothered to clear anymore.
The dirt roads were not paved, of course. What border village had the money or resources for paved roads? From what I could recall from the jumbled mess of memories still sorting themselves in my head, the village main area was around five hundred meters square, and from there farm fields surrounded all around the village in every direction. It was a farming community, pure and simple, and when the farms failed, everything failed.
Nearest city was the Woolfmoor . This was as far as this boy's knowledge went, which wasn't saying much considering how sheltered and isolated his life had been.
I would have to collect information about this world of Dvitara systematically, methodically, the way I'd been trained to gather intelligence in hostile territory.
Oh yes, both suns were named respectively Kor and Sel, above our head and at the horizon which seemed be West, and no further information was available in the memories about them. Just names, hanging in the sky like accusations, reminding me with every glance upward that I was nowhere near home.
Everett had learned how to write and read from Alden, which was something at least. Literacy wasn't universal in places like this, from what I could gather from the fragmented memories. But he was lacking in any kind of information about his surroundings, political or geographical location beyond the immediate vicinity. It was like being deliberately kept ignorant, and that bothered me more than I wanted to admit.
Although I still didn't have any clue why Alden, as well as the other villagers, had withheld common information from them before the age of fifteen. But the reasoning behind it remained frustratingly unclear. They disclosed all the needed information after coming of age, which apparently happened when something called a Guide revealed their latent abilities to all those who crossed the threshold at fifteen years old.
I had to stop thinking about all of this as we reached the area where Alden was distributing gruel. The smell hit me first—a mixture of cooked grains and vegetables and something that might have been meat if you were generous with your definitions. It was some kind of thick liquid with some grains and vegetables and little slices of meat floating in it, served from a large iron pot that sat over a fire pit. People were lined up with bowls, their faces showing the kind of hollow-eyed exhaustion that came from never quite getting enough to eat.
"Why are you both late again today?" Alden's voice cut through the general murmur of conversation. "How many times do I have to tell you both to come on time? Fortunately for you guys, today some of gruel is still left."
He said this to us with the tone of an exasperated parent, but there was little sadness in his eyes that I was able to see. It was the kind of sadness that came from watching something you cared about slowly die, from being unable to stop the inevitable decline no matter how hard you tried.
Alden was tall, taller than me—I think six feet eight inches or seven feet, it was hard to judge precisely from my current vantage point. He was muscular, not like those bodybuilders who were all show and no function, but yes, he had thick forearms and a well-built body that screamed military training or something similar.
Civilians did not have that kind of posture and eyes. I knew this well from my experience as a former soldier, i recognized it instantly in the way he held himself, the way he moved with economy and purpose.
But in Everett's memory there was nothing mentioned like that ever. The boy had never noticed, had never been trained to see what I could see.
"Why is there still some left?" I asked instinctively, the words coming out before I could stop them. "Did more people leave today as well?"
I was surprised by my own question, surprised that I cared enough to ask. I think Everett's memories had started affecting me more than I wanted to admit. Because I knew myself, knew my own patterns and habits, and I wouldn't have asked this question normally. I would have just taken my food and kept my head down, focused on my own thoughts. But apparently, Everett cared about these people, and that concern was bleeding through into my consciousness.
"Yes, three or four more families left today for the nearby city, we are and two or three family are the only one left" Alden said, his voice heavy with resignation. "I couldn't stop them. How could I when there is nothing to eat here? The eastern farms are dead. There is nothing growing there anymore, and the same conditions are also happening on all of the farm fields. Let's not dwell on this subject."
He said this with so much frustration that I was starting to feel bad for him. From what I had noticed from the memories and from observing him in the present moment, he was one of the nice and caring guys, someone who actually gave a damn about the people under his protection. Those were rare enough in any world, and apparently no more common in this one than they'd been in mine.
"Here, take these bowls and eat your fill," he continued, gesturing at the pot. "There is more left in here."
He gave both of us bowls filled with gruel and pointed at the large pot still boiling over the fire. Steam rose from it in lazy spirals, carrying that simple smell of basic sustenance.
It was piping hot, almost scalding to the touch. I had to wait for some moments to cool it off, blowing across the surface and watching the little ripples form in the thick liquid. Then I took a spoonful and tasted it. It was good as it could be without any kind of spices, but salt was there at least. Salt made everything edible, or at least tolerable. But it was enough to fill a stomach, and right now I was content with that. Let's explore more tasty and savory things when I will be able, I thought. Survival first, pleasure later. That was the soldier's way, the way I'd lived for twelve years in military and more.
I finished two bowls quickly, shoveling the gruel down with single-minded efficiency. Then I saw Gareth going for a third bowl, and I couldn't help but smile slightly. This kid could eat.
Gareth was the same age as me, or rather the same age as Everett—fourteen years old, though I had to keep reminding myself of that fact. His parents had died somewhere before Alden took him under his wing, the details lost to time or simply never known in the first place. He was under six feet tall and had a portly physique, the kind of body that suggested he took every opportunity to eat when food was available because you never knew when the next meal might come. He was a kind of happy guy in any kind of situation, as I could recall from the memories. His optimism seemed almost inflectional , like he'd decided early on that being miserable wouldn't make anything better so he might as well smile. He had been with Everett as long as Everett could remember, never leaving his side through all the hardships and uncertainties. There were two more friends once, but they had left the village after coming of age to find their calling, whatever that meant in this world.
Suddenly Alden addressed both of us, his voice cutting through our eating.
"Gareth, Boy, prepare yourselves well," he said in what he probably thought was a casual way, though his tone carried weight beneath the surface casualness. "I think tonight the Guide will reveal your abilities. And both of you don't worry about receiving any abilities from the revelation, I will always be there for you."
He informed us of this like he was commenting on the weather, but I couldn't help but notice how exactly he knew that we would have a revelation today. That specificity bothered me. How did he know? What signs was he reading that I couldn't see?
"Alden, how are you so sure about that we will have revelation tonight?" I couldn't stop myself from asking, the question bursting out with more force than I'd intended.
He stopped stirring the ladle for a moment, the motion freezing mid-stir. Then he continued as if nothing had happened, but I did notice. I noticed everything, the pause, the slight tension in his shoulders, the way his jaw tightened almost imperceptibly.
"Don't worry yourself about details," he replied strictly, his voice taking on an edge that brooked no argument. "I will tell you as much as I can tomorrow after your awakening tonight, and don't ask any questions right now. I will not tell you anything."
He continued stirring the pot with deliberate motions, clearly signaling that the conversation was over.
I stared at him for a moment, weighing whether to push further. But something in his posture told me it would be useless. When a soldier—and I was certain now that's what he'd been—decided not to talk, there was no making him. So I let it drop, filing the information away for later consideration.
We both left for the northern side of the fields where I had first arrived in this world, walking in companionable silence that Gareth quickly filled with his usual chatter.
"Everett, don't you worry," he said, his voice bubbling with enthusiasm that seemed only slightly forced. "We will both receive some cool abilities tonight. After that we will go on grand adventures and I will be having lots of delicacies from all around the world. Of course you can eat also, but I will be eating more, hee hee."
He started babbling nonstop about some adventure fantasies and all the different foods he'd heard about from travelers passing through the village, his imagination running wild with possibilities.
"Gareth, there are a lot of things besides eating," I said in a good-natured way, unable to stop myself from commenting on his one-track mind. "You always only think about food and delicacies. Grow up some more, you fool."
"Everett, food is absolutely necessary, you know," he said in mock outrage, clutching his chest like I'd wounded him. "How can you be so insensitive about it?"
Then he started laughing, that genuine belly laugh that made his whole body shake. I joined in as well, surprising myself with how easily the laughter came. At that moment I felt that at least I should just enjoy myself, free of worries and existential dread about being trapped in another world. The crisis could wait. Right now, I had a friend who was laughing, and that was worth something.
We worked at the northern fields for three more hours as Kor started to fall down on the horizon of the West, the larger of the two suns sinking slowly toward the edge of the world.
But Sel was and would be still there at the horizon, hanging in that same spot it had occupied all day. I didn't know how it was possible for a planetary body to remain there all the time, but yeah, magic. That was apparently the answer to everything that didn't make sense in this world. Magic.
We tracked back to Alden's house where we lived, talking here and there with few people who are still left, passing in the village. Everett and Gareth were well known and loved in the village, as there were only two orphans who were living with the village head, and that apparently made them something special or at least notable. People called out greetings, asked about the work, made small talk that felt genuine rather than obligatory.
We washed ourselves at the well which was near Alden's house, dumping bucket after bucket of cold water over our heads to rinse away the day's dirt and sweat. The water was shockingly cold, making me gasp despite myself. we dry ourselves for a moment . Then we stepped into the house, feeling somewhat refreshed.
The house was two stories tall, made with wood and stone in that same rough but functional style as the rest of the village. It consisted of a total of four rooms and a main hall where we ate daily at night.
Alden, who had no family of his own, was doing something in the kitchen, the sounds of pots and pans clanking mixing with the smell of cooking bread. He was not much of a talker, which suited me fine. So we just grabbed two slices of bread each and moved toward our rooms.
"Good night and best of luck to both of you," Alden called out from the main hall, his voice carrying that same understated concern he'd shown earlier.
"Thank you, Alden," we replied simultaneously, our voices overlapping in that way that happens when people spend too much time together.
Gareth and I exchanged well wishes at the top of the stairs. There was some tension evident in the eyes of Gareth which he was trying to mask with his usual smile, but I noticed. I always noticed. It was impossible not to, once you'd been trained to read people's micro expressions and body language.
"Gareth, let's get over it like we always did with all our situations," I said to him reassuringly, reaching out to grip his shoulder briefly. "Don't worry. Everything will be fine. Good luck."
"You too, Everett. You too," he said, his voice quieter than usual, more serious than I'd heard from him all day.
He stepped into his room, closing the door softly behind him, and I was left alone in the hallway with my thoughts and someone else's memories swirling in my head, waiting for whatever this revelation was supposed to be.