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The Forgotten Age Trilogy: Soulfire

By The Forgotten Age Trilogy All Rights Reserved ©

Scifi / Fantasy

Day 1


Doctor Peters has given me this book to write down my thoughts. He said that it was an old technique to cure amnesia, keeping a record of any memories that seem to surface. Even though his expression slowly seemed to change to fear when I had told him that I had been having odd dreams, his patience has allowed me to trust his judgment and wisdom in the field of psychology.

Since the day I arrived in this hospital, which has come to feel like home, he has promised to help me remember. His dedication to my condition has been motivating, to say the least. Waking up amongst strangers was quite a struggle, but I was quite well received by smiles and open minds. I was apparently found on a street corner, at least that is all anyone here knew, at first. My identity is a mystery to those around me and to myself, yet the physicians here have been kind enough to listen.

The bed they had provided in my room had become a place of curiosity and fear. However,  when I laid back, week after week, and told my psychiatrist what I could remember of my recent visions and dreams, I was at ease. His pencil always races across his page, trying to make some sense of the jumbled messages I try to relay. I know that his mind is working as hard as mine to unravel the past since the first day, when they found out I had been seen, days before I was found, just walking in a park nearby, then suddenly fainting. Even though the time between the stories is a mystery, Doctor Peters has been my friend and confidant ever since.

The details of the reoccurring dreams had been shocking to us both. I dreamt of wizards, magic, and wild beasts only portrayed in fantasy. That world curved and weaved its path around not one, but two suns. Even though the books in our general library say nothing of such a world, my belief leans towards it just being part of the imagination of my subconscious.

The faith my physician  and I have come to have in the dreams themselves, however, has grown over time. It was also Doctor Peters that had told me in the first place, that if they had been so vivid, it may have been my old memories trying to resurface through a kind of imaginative storytelling. 

It was only a few days ago that these dreams had started to bleed into my waking hours.  I went to my psychiatrist this morning for my weekly evaluation and explained to him everything that I had seen. At the end of the session, he and I had come to the conclusion that the dreams and hallucinations I have been experiencing must have been related to my amnesia, and he gave me this book.
Dr. Peters has informed me that only by treating them as memories will I be able to describe every detail. Preconceptions that we have about where we live and a daily routine are sometimes easily exchanged when a dream presents us with a past where things could have been different, especially with amnesia. Some thoughts even seem to come automatically in all of the dreams and visions. Even when the dreams appear before open eyes, they seem to take me to that other world, the man I am there sometimes feeling more real than the reality I wake up to. It is not difficult to make my mind believe that these things actually happened.

As recently described, the planet rotates in a figure eight around two suns. One of the suns was cooler than the other, and so seasons are created by the alternating temperatures of this irregular orbit. As I have read, most planets experience seasons with a tilted axis, such as Earth. These two stars, in a harmonious, impossible melody, supported the planet with the variable temperatures needed to sustain life. As my memories hopefully return, perhaps the specifics of this miraculous phenomenon will come to light. 

Because one of the suns burned a hotter blue, the skies were sometimes a hue of sea green. This was because of a special type of radiation coming from a young star. The orbit lead the planet to have one half of the year with a day and night. The other half, it was in constant alternating day, when the planet would find itself in between the two suns and a type of green and blue skied summer was created. The times with day and night were the spring and winter, respective to the planet’s position.

I can also remember, but only vaguely and in no specific pattern, that there were different civilizations inhabiting the planet that were vastly different from each other. It remains unclear to me now whether the humans of the planet were capable of using the flashy, elemental magic I had envisioned, or if the wizards were a different race altogether. I can remember, vaguely, one specific dream where a wizard in a grey robe had protected a human, somehow, from an attack. The people of that world were as compassionate, and so the dealings between the two groups remain puzzling to me.

The only city that I have been experiencing has dazzled my mind in far more ways than one. A terrible maze of streets paved with the same materials as the buildings, the entire main structure of the city seemingly created from a mold that made it look like a model city. New housing projects had lines, slight creases which revealed that their conception had only come after the main city was built. 

The buildings glistened with the colors of the sky, all being slightly angled to reflect those beautiful blue and sea green colors to the eyes. This created the illusion that the low standing houses were one with the sky. Perhaps it was this wondrous effect that made the people go about their daily business not in a rush, but in a very social and talkative manner. Along all the paths in the labyrinth, children could be seen playing with toys, ladies sharing the latest gossip, men laughing and everyone working together to sustain their peaceful city. During the day, the bustling streets drowned out the sea of silence that everyone could enjoy in the evenings.

The name that accompanies the city each time, is Teuran. The capitol of the humans’ world, it was called the ‘Silver City’  by those who called it home. Every dream seems to start in this glistening town, each time more or less intense. I had visited a small port, called the ‘Gates of Truth‘, a tavern called ‘The Philosopher’s Cradle’, and a few homes of people I felt I knew, but did not recognize. There were few whose names remained in my mind, among those, my best friend, Kera, whose house I had seen frequently.

Accompanied with these dreams is still a yearning: the feeling that someone, somewhere, was waiting for me and I missed their company. A few of these times, when grievance had taken hold, I had been experiencing my home life in Teuran with my father, Zeratok. There have been many conversations where I had to lecture him about his ambition, and not to give up on life because he had lost his wife, my mother, Lilith, or Lilly as she liked to be called. She had died from an unknown illness when I was very young, and I had never known her. My mother’s passing is perhaps something to be taken literally from my dreams, only because that emptiness of losing my only mother still haunts me during the day.

That lack of affection on my part, however, was not for my deceased parent. Even though my dreams were full of wonders and the monotonous but pleasant life of the city, the ‘Silver City’ was made even brighter by a beauty that any man can understand. Her name was engraved in my heart since the first dream: Neiko.

She was also a reoccurring factor in my dreams that could not be ignored. Many of the more pleasant ones start with her and I walking the streets of Teuran aimlessly, no goal except to tell stories and laugh together. I wish I could be as sure that she also exists, that we could take those walks in the real world. If there was a sure chance to see her in real life, then this ignorant hell I am in would seem less painful.

Her beauty radiated through the mess of momentary scenes, imprinting the effect of the wind through her dark brown hair in my memory with ease. When I had the pleasure of gazing into her light blue eyes, I would awakened from this dream world, and be disappointed each time.

Even if only for the chance to see her again, I must put down my pen and sleep. When the dreams come, I will inscribe them best I can. Hopefully I will be able to search for my real home, even if the sea green skies and all the other wondrous fantasies are too farfetched to be real.

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