THE PAST HE KEEPS FORGETTING

Nelanian returned to the shanty where he had been resting. His head throbbed with a headache, and he couldn't concentrate on anything for long. It hurt him in waves, inducing light drowsiness before assaulting him with violent anguish that forced him to fall out of his chair. He reached for a drink he'd made himself and drank two hefty tastes of it. He felt strong enough to walk again after a few moments of resting his mass on the chair, so he got to his feet and walked toward the shack's entrance.

It was an aging house that could have easily been blown down by a strong enough breeze, termites had eaten through most of the walls, and it didn't even have a door. Nelanian had tied a sack he found near a farm, cut it, patched it together to form a curtain, and hung it over the door frame as his door. When he stepped outdoors, he spotted black clouds moving in from the south. A storm was approaching, and he needed to finish whatever he was working on before the rain caught him outside.

He walked out of the cabin with an empty bag in his hand, which he turned upside down and began shaking. As he continued to shake the bag, bread crumbs and dust poured outside before he put it back across his shoulders. He was living uphill and could see the marketplace below him as he looked down. He searched about in his pocket and discovered several coins. It wasn't enough money to get him a decent meal, but it would certainly get him enough food to see him through the night. At the very least, it was preferable to sleeping on an empty stomach like some of the market villagers.

Nelanian had taken refuge in an unfamiliar village, cut off from the outside world. It was a primitive village that relied solely on its agricultural prowess and a strong belief in the ways of the past. In the village, there was little to no technological advancement. The only obvious trace of technology was a cellphone tower near the hills where Nelanian was staying; otherwise, it was simply hats and makeshift kiosks that people constructed to stay in.

Nelanian grabbed another note from his old trouser's side pocket. It was a clean note, yet it didn't seem right. It has a wax seal on one side as well. Nelanian ripped it open and read the name scrawled in calligraphy.

'Assassinate Mr. Starkridge by the 20th of this month.'

It was stated. Nelanian remembered who he was at that point. "I am Zegrath Void, The Necessary Evil and Keeper of Darkness, the hundred and seventh to hold the title," he said in his brain as he descended the hill.

Nelanian tried hard to recall anything that happened before he awakened in his cabin, but nothing came to memory. As if nothing had happened, his recollection was entirely blank. He remembered most things up to a point, beyond which he couldn't recall anything else. As he walked down the path, he pondered his options until he arrived in the settlement. When he spotted Nelanian arriving, a local man at the gate was tying ornaments on the bridge going into the village.

He inquired, "Did you bring it?"

Nelanian looked at him, confused.

"Didn't I just send you an hour ago to fetch it?" "Are you sure you haven't forgotten?"

Forgotten? Nelanian had no recollection of meeting the old man, let alone what he had sent him. In response, Nelanian shrugged his shoulders, and the old man groaned deeply, clearly tired of dealing with Nelanian.

"I swear, boy, you have a fish's memory." It's right there on your back. "I ordered you to bring back the bag so I could give you more food," the elderly gentleman explained.

Nelanian groped for the back of his shirt and snatched it from him, handed it over to the elderly gentleman. They both strolled back into the village once he heard the order. While examining the village, Nelanian took his time. He seemed to fit perfectly in because it was a small hamlet where practically everyone knew everyone. As he passed by, neighbors who were standing outside their homes seemed to recognize him. He concluded that he had been there for quite some time.

"Did you like the potatoes I gave you yesterday?" the old man asked, making a sharp turn on a path bending towards the market. Nelanian had no idea what he was talking about, so he merely gave a blank response.

"Yes, sir, they were quite good," 

"Last night, my wife attempted a new recipe. I gave it to you since I didn't want to try something new. For once, I believed you'd appreciate my wife's cuisine,"

According to the manner he spoke with Nelanian, the old man seemed to know him well.

"I don't know what you were teaching Sam about swordsmanship, but Sam missed you.  My old brain can't recall the name,"

"You mean swordsmanship ranks?" Nelanian asked, swiftly putting two and two together.

"Yes!   that's the one Since you gave him his sword, he's been lying with it."

Nelanian attempted to recall Sam's appearance, but nothing came to memory, so he decided to throw caution to the wind and ask the elderly guy a question.

"Hey, sir? forgive me for asking, but, could you tell me how I got here?"

The elderly gentleman came to a halt and turned around to face him.

"This again? He inquired, "Have you fully lost your memory again?" For him, the look on Nelanian's face was enough of an explanation. He went down the path before speaking once more.

"Well. You've been in this community for nearly a year. Since then, you've been coming in and staying for a bit, assisting the locals, and then disappearing. You seemed to forget everything the last time you were there, which was strange. Now you're back here, and you've forgotten everything about it. But this is the longest you've spent with us, probably a month or two," 

Nelanian was cautious in his assessment of the scenario. His memories appeared to have been obliterated selectively. He could remember bits and pieces of the past, but he couldn't recall the entire history. He could recall leaving IAA shortly after the old guy informed him that he had been there for some time, but he couldn't recall anything else.

They were at the old man's house before he knew it, and a young child ran up to them. He was outside the home, playing with a wooden practice sword, and when he noticed them, he swiftly dropped it and dashed towards them.

"Grandpa!" he exclaimed as he hugged the elderly gentleman.

"Nelly! You've returned!" exclaimed the young child, his gaze turning to Nelanian. He jumped in and hugged him. Nelanian returned his hug halfheartedly, and the youngster sensed it.

"Ah, just leave the kid alone." "He's lost his memory once more," the old guy muttered as he entered the house.

“Again?” exclaimed the kid, a little dismayed.

“So I have to explain everything from the beginning!” exclaimed the child, his face exhausted. With a smile, Nelanian returned the stare, and the two followed the old man into the house. Later on, an elderly lady greeted Nelanian and he figured it was the old man’s wife whom he was talking about.

Soon enough, they were all seated at a tiny table for dinner. The elderly man prayed to his gods in an unknown chant to Nelanian, and he assumed he was Yulcite or a Lorth. Those two sides had a strong religious lifestyle; it was their pillar. The old man lingered after supper as his grandson practiced with his wooden practice sword. Even while Nelanian was speaking with the old lady about the weather, he felt out of place. When a tremendous thunderclap shook the wall's rooftops, Nelanian decided it was time to return to his cottage.

“It's probably best if I leave now. Thank you for your kindness, madam; the food was delicious,” Nelanian said as he stood up.

“Let me take you to the gates,” the old guy murmured as he rose, gripping his knees. When he moved, they made odd sounds, a testament to his refined age. Sam waved goodbye as Nelanian waved him off, and the two were on their way.

The old man tugged Nelanian's arm and brought him closer to his wrinkled face before they even reached the gates. His voice altered considerably, and he seemed to be speaking with a lot of rage behind his words.

“You dimwit!” You did not answer me, did you do it?” he asked.

Nelanian became perplexed all of a sudden. He couldn't tell what the old man was thinking; one minute he was pleasant and welcoming, the next he looked to want to pull Nelanian's head off.

“Do what? I'm sorry, but I don't understand what you're saying.” Nelanian inquired, clearly perplexed.

The old guy became furious and exclaimed, "You didn't give me the sealed letter from The Seventh, Death List!"

The name rang a bell in Nelanian's head, and he remembered the sinister voice who always spoke to him. He remembered the letter he had found in his pocket shortly after and fished it out. The old guy smacked his lips together when he spotted the broken seal.

“What were you thinking when you opened it?”

“I didn’t know I was supposed to open it?”

Nelanian spoke forward, his voice ringing with sincerity.

“Of course you did, but you idiot, all you had to do was go get your memory erased again. Listen, if you can't handle taking another person's life, this isn't a coping technique for you. Those gods are always playing tricks on you. You need to grow up and quit wiping your memories every time you kill someone,”.  The old man muttered as he slipped the note into his pocket.

“What do you mean by kill someone?”

“Are you not Zegrath Void?  Keeper of Darkness and Necessary Evil? Hundred and Seventh to hold the title?” The old gentleman inquired. Nelanian nodded in agreement, recalling what he had been chanting earlier that day as he descended the hills.

“Well, my name is Zegrath Reid, Former Necessary Evil and Keeper of Darkness, and I am the Hundred and Sixth to hold the title,” the old man remarked as he turned to face the road that led back to his house.

“The Council of The Watchers assigned me to be your mentor, but I can't keep teaching you while you squander my energy by erasing your memories every time. Find another mentor; I'm done with you; and you may tell The Watchers that I quit the next time you meet with them,” the old man stated. He started walking back to his house.

With a panicked tone, Nelanian continued, "Wait, I don't understand, I don't comprehend any of this." Before he went too far away for Nelanian to hear him, the old man turned to face him. “I don't think you'll ever grasp it with that attitude,” 

“Well, I remember the Watchers choosing me. They said they saw something special in me, so perhaps I don't need a mentor to teach me, and I'd be better off on my own!” he said. The elderly gentleman turned around and walked back to him.

“What do you believe makes you so unique, Zegrath Void?  How do you distinguish yourself from the rest of us?” The old gentleman inquired. For a little while, Nelanian remained silent.

“When they recruited me, I was as young and as naive as you. They all said the same thing to me, that I was unique. Let me ask you this, do you have a home?”

“No,” Nelanian responded, his tone softening slightly.