TOMB OF MEMORIES

The bright lights that bore their way down through the crack of what was assumed to be a reliquary were almost blinding as its lid was slowly moved to the side. Eyes long closed opened to them, dazed and confused as to what it might be—a pale hand, whose black fingernails were long and sharp as claws, raised to cover them. There were voices just outside, talking excitedly in a language she couldn’t quite recognize. It was familiar, but not one she knew well; some of the words were different from what she could recall. Her golden eyes adjusted to the light, the narrowed slits of her pupils becoming wider as they grew used to it. Through the opening of the top, she could recognize the lights as magic - small white glowing orbs floating through the air, bathing their surroundings with comforting luminescence to aid those opening her… tomb? Was she in a tomb?

Why was she in a tomb? Her thoughts raced. Where was she? When was she? And most importantly, who was she? A great cloud fogged her mind, rendering her unable to think properly. Her life, her memories, had been stolen from her. Everything had been lost to her save for brief flashes of blurry imagery from a past she couldn’t remember. A black once fluffy tail, matted from disuse, moved behind her nervously, echoing her emotions.

The top of the tomb was completely removed in a sudden jolt, flashing her with all the lights at once. Defensively, she put up her arms to protect her eyes from the sudden brightness. She lowered them apprehensively as the excitement in the speech of the figures around her dwindled and became nervous and confused. They had not expected anyone to be alive in here. One approached her, his bright orange eyes bearing into hers as he offered his hand. She hesitated, unsure of who this man was or his intentions. He seemed to sense her reluctance and stepped back, putting both of his hands in front of his chest in a gesture to explain he meant no harm. Many of his words were unfamiliar to her, but she could hear the concern in his tone. Truly, she could only make out the words ‘okay,’ ‘help,’ and ‘friend,’ but by his tone, she could gather he was questioning her state and explaining he was there to assist if necessary.

Her hands gripped the edges of the tomb as she attempted to steady herself as she fully sat up, realizing she was already at an angle. Her legs, which at her lower thigh began to give way to black fur and develop into a lupine digitigrade appearance, felt weak. The moment she tried to step out of the tomb on her own accord, she collapsed, her hands catching the ground. Initially forced to sit awkwardly on her knees, she brought her legs out from under her so she could sit more comfortably with her thigh resting against the ground. A headache came towards her temples and she brought a hand to her head, struggling to think clearly.

The voices were back but were more concerned than nervous now. Her ears, lupine in nature and positioned further up her head, strained as she tried to make out their words. Again, the man offered his hand to her and she looked up at him. She had gotten a better look this time, his brown skin shining against the magical light around him. He briefly swept away a dreadlock that had strayed in front of his eyes, tucking it behind a pointed ear that was decorated with an earring hanging down from it, appearing as an orange fuzzy worm creature that matched the color of his eyes. He had a warm smile and could again make out the word ‘help.’

She paused for a moment, fearful of the situation she had found herself in. However, seeing no better alternative, she took his hand and he helped her stand, catching her when she initially stumbled. She was sure she must have looked like a fawn learning to walk for the first time, but those around her were patient. The man nodded toward two others and they disappeared, returning minutes later with a stool and a blanket. As they set the stool on the ground, the man guided her toward it and gently wrapped the blanket over her shoulders - she wasn’t cold, but the gesture was kind enough for her to be satisfied.

The strangers spoke more, but she understood little - though more than she had before. Was the memory of the language returning to her? She had hoped so. Regardless, she cocked her head to the side, wondering exactly what they were saying to her. It seemed to be a question. The man who aided her paused, rubbing his stubbled chin as he seemed to think of how to get the message across to her. Eventually, he pointed to himself and said two words. One sounded similar to “king”, while the other was more akin to “worm”. Another man handed him approached and handed him what appeared to be a piece of parchment, its edge frayed, and some sort of writing utensil.