A week passed. The statistics in our barn turned downright macabre. This month, there were nothing but miscarriages. And the few who survived—just two calves, five lambs (I can never remember what they are called), and one foal—looked as if they had been born already old.

  February.

  I think it's the eleventh year of my cycle. Or the tenth? I sat on the fence and agonizingly tried to remember: how did I even end up here? On this farm, among these cows and manure. I think some aristocrat invited me... or did I wander in here looking for food and decide to stay?

  Empty white spots popped up in my head more and more often. Reality was crumbling.

  The clatter of hooves snapped me out of my stupor. Mira rode up to the gates. She looked tired, but upon seeing me, she smiled warmly. She walked over and gently touched her palm to my cheek.

  "Hallucinations again, Zenhald? Losing the thread again?"

  "What?" I frowned. "I'm just trying to figure out... am I a guest here or was I just passing through? Was that in this cycle or the one where I was a knight?"

  Mira sighed and sat on the edge of the well.

  "I brought you here, dummy. Before this, you were at the Academy. Remember? Lessons, princesses, mirrors?"

  I scratched the back of my head.

  "Probably... Feels like it was yesterday. Or maybe a hundred years ago. Time flows somehow incorrectly here."

  "Let's go inside," my sister's face instantly turned serious. "We need to talk. All of us together."

  We gathered in the kitchen. Alastor, Aya, Mira, and I.

  "All these events..." Mira began, looking at the blackened bread on the table. "The earth that is dying. The animals that have stopped growing. The famine that is mowing down the surrounding villages. It's not a coincidence."

  "It's the Demon of Hunger," Aya suddenly interrupted her. Her voice sounded hollow, almost a whisper.

  Mira sharply turned her head toward the demoness. Anger flared in her eyes.

  "If you knew this, why did you keep quiet?!"

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  "I don't know..." Aya lowered her eyes. "It's just that this isn't a normal parasite. The Demon of Hunger is one of the Primordials. It's the First Generation, Mira. They are the very essence of fear, the source of fear. I wasn't sure if we could even stand against him."

  "Alright," Mira stood up decisively. "Since the enemy has a name, it's time to hit the road. We can't sit and wait for this creature to drink all the life out of the world. We are going after him."

  "What about the kids?" Aya threw her head up. "Tizor, Erol... We can't take them with us on a hunt for a Primordial."

  "We'll send them to Yara," Alastor placed a hand on his wife's shoulder. "They'll be safest at the King's castle. Ryan will look after them."

  Aya nodded quietly, clutching a kitchen towel in her hands.

  "Alright. Then that's what we'll do."

  I looked at them and felt something old start to stir inside me. The Demon of Hunger. First Generation.

  The next morning, I teleported the kids to the castle. Pop—and the courtyard became way too quiet. Selling the farm took a whole week. Why so long? I have no idea. Alastor was probably haggling over every splinter, trying to squeeze an extra copper out of the buyers.

  Finally, we mounted our horses and set off. Where exactly—no one really knew. Rumors whispered that the same withering was happening in neighboring countries, so we simply needed to gather more information.

  I rode along, swaying in the saddle, and leafed through my new notebook. Tried to grab onto reality.

  "So, what did I scribble in here..." I muttered, squinting at the sun.

  "Alexia."

  Who is that even? Judging by the notes—some aunt. It says: "so-and-so, this-and-that."

  I reread the line again. Nothing clicked. Some completely unimportant character in my life. Why did I even waste ink on her?

  With a sharp motion, I tore out the page and flicked my finger. The paper burst into flames and turned to ash.

  Further down the list were some names: Lianel, Alphus, Anna, Draconite...

  "Who even are all these people?!" I fumed, snapping the notebook shut. "Where did they come from in my head?"

  I turned around, looking over our modest detachment.

  "Hey," I frowned, feeling that someone was missing. "Mira! Where's Elvindor? Did we lose him? Or just forget him in the barn?"

  Mira remained silent. She didn't even turn her head, continuing to look at the road.

  I spurred my horse and pulled up alongside her.

  "Mira, why are you ignoring me? We forgot Elvindor! And Riza... where is she? How are we supposed to go after a Primordial without them?"

  My sister finally looked at me. There was such sorrow in her gaze that it made me uneasy. She reined in her horse.

  "Climb on with me, Zen," she said quietly.

  I shrugged in bewilderment but obediently climbed into her saddle. Mira wrapped one arm around me, and with the other, touched the crown of my head. Her fingers began to slowly, almost weightlessly run through my green hair.

  "Zenhald... Elvindor is dead," she whispered right into my ear. "Many years have passed since then. He is gone."

  The world around me slowly began to blur.

  "What?.." I exhaled, feeling my consciousness slipping into a familiar sleep. "How did he die?.. When?.."

  I wanted to ask a hundred more questions, but Mira's hand was pressing the "off button" far too confidently.

  "Sleep, Zen," I heard her voice, fading away along with the sound of the wind. "Sleep. You don't need to remember deaths."

  And I fell asleep. Right in the saddle, my back pressed against my sister. Another piece of my life just fell off and sank into the Void, clearing up space.