The Flowing Memories of the Forgotten One
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The clatter of spoons against wooden plates suddenly stopped. The hum of conversation in the narrow diner seemed to vanish, leaving behind a suffocating silence. In the dim alley of Oakhaven, time itself felt frozen.
Altair stood rooted in place. His legs felt heavy, as if fused to the worn wooden floor. His eyes were locked onto the man before him—a man dressed in worn clothes, yet bearing a gaze filled with painful devotion.
The man was still kneeling, head bowed deeply, his shoulders trembling.
"M-Master Altair…" His voice broke, hoarse with emotions held back for centuries. "I never imagined… in a place like this… that I would find you again."
Something strange churned inside Altair's chest. It wasn't just the discomfort of being stared at. It was deeper—like a rusted iron door in the corner of his memories being forced open, its hinges screaming in agony.
Lyra (whispering, pale): "Altair… who is he? Why is he calling you that?"
Altair didn't answer. His tongue felt heavy. He wanted to deny it—to say the man had the wrong person—but the words caught in his throat. He stared at his own trembling hands.
Who am I, really? his mind screamed in silence.
The uneasy feeling he usually had around strangers had transformed into something far heavier. He felt like a fraud caught red-handed… or perhaps a king suddenly reminded of a crown he had lost—a crown he no longer wished to wear.
The mysterious man lifted his head, tears streaming down his face.
"The world… the world has grown dark since you left. Please, Master… say something."
Altair took a step back. The once warm diner now felt cold and unfamiliar.
Altair stood in silence, unsure of what to do.
Mysterious Man: "I have finally found you, Master…"
Altair gently helped him to his feet.
Altair: "Are you certain… that I am the Altair you are looking for?"
Mysterious Man: "I am certain. Even if countless stars were to fall from the sky, I would still know the one I seek."
Altair swallowed.
Altair: "Let's meet again after I finish eating. Then we'll talk."
Confused and overwhelmed, Altair asked to speak later.
Mysterious Man: "Very well… as you wish, Master."
Altair returned to his seat beside Lyra.
Lyra: "Altair… why is that man calling you 'Master'?"
Altair: "I don't know either. I don't remember him at all. Let's think about it later… let's just eat for now."
Lyra: "O-okay…"
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After finishing their meal, they met the man again.
Altair: "Hey… let's find somewhere quiet to talk."
Mysterious Man: "Yes, Master."
They moved into a narrow, silent alley.
Mysterious Man: "Is this place acceptable?"
Altair: "It's fine. Let's talk here."
They sat down and began their conversation.
Mysterious Man: "Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Caelis Ashryn."
Altair: "This is my friend, Lyra. Is it alright if she stays?"
Caelis: "If she is someone you trust, then it is no problem."
Altair: "Then I'll ask the most important question… how do you know my name?"
Caelis: "I am the son of the servant who once served your family."
Altair's eyes widened.
Altair: "A servant…? Then do you know about my family? And… how long have I been gone?"
Caelis: "Yes. I know of your family. Through my father, I swore to serve the House of Altair. And… it has been two thousand years since the calamity and your disappearance."
Lyra's hands began to tremble violently. She stared at Altair as if the man beside her had turned into an ancient monument—terrifying and unreachable.
Lyra: "T-two thousand years…? Altair… you're not an ordinary human…"
Fear and worry flooded her heart.
Does this mean… he'll leave me too?
Altair noticed her shaking and reached out, holding both her hands.
Altair: "Calm down… I'm not going anywhere."
The sounds around him faded, leaving only the wild pounding of his heart.
Two thousand years…
That number feels like a stone dropped straight into my chest.
Altair: "Then… what happened to my family?"
A tight pain spread across his chest—guilt, worry, regret—twisting together until breathing felt difficult.
Caelis: "I… I do not know, Master…"
Altair didn't force him to continue, though his unanswered questions weighed heavily on his heart.
Altair: "It's alright. Then tell me… how are you still alive after two thousand years?"
Caelis: "Because I am of the Aethern race."
Lyra's hands turned cold at the word Aethern—not only were they rare, but they were an ancient race believed to be extinct.
Altair: "The Aethern…? I don't know much about them. But if you truly served my family… then what is your purpose in searching for me for two thousand years?"
Caelis: "My purpose is…."