The last survivor of a world torn by War.

Martel did not condone the hunting of animals, despite the village’s need for meat and food. That was why she couldn’t be a hunter. She hated the idea of fighting -- or hurting any living creature. So it was that as she was out gathering herbs, she heard a low cry. An animal or monster caught in a trap, perhaps?

Frowning, she steeled her expression and sought out the source.

A lone wolf pup was caught in a hunter’s trap. The horror that crossed her face was evident as she quickly made her way over to help. But before she could get close enough, the small monster snapped at her, before letting out a cry of pain.

She did the only thing she could think of and lowered herself to the ground, setting aside her basket of herbs. If she could make the young wolf see that she wasn’t a threat, maybe it would allow her to help.

Please, let me help you. She thought, reaching out a hand for the wolf to sniff at.

It bit at her hand instead, but she felt no pain, merely stared at the poor thing until it’s ears lowered. The wolf let go of her hand, and though there were beads of blood beginning to form at the puncture marks, Martel couldn’t stop the smile from lighting up her face. Gently she moved closer and carefully pried open the jaws of the trap.

I’m sorry you got caught in this. She thought, as though her thoughts could reach the monster. But the air of calmness she had around her surely was keeping the pup calm as well. I’ll heal that for you. Closing her eyes, she drew on her mana and cast a healing arte. The wolf had been licking at it’s bleeding paw when the arte took care of the pain.

It blinked at her, lowering it’s leg to the ground, glancing at it when it didn’t hurt. The wolf yipped at her, as if in thanks, before running off into the brush.

Martel could only smile at it’s departure, glad that she’d been able to help. Without a word, she grabbed her basket and dug around for one of the herbs she’d collected already. It produced a soothing solution that reduced the risk of infections from bites like the one she’d taken.

When she heard movement nearby, Martel looked up to see a girl watching her. She smiled gently and scratched some words into the nearby dirt with her hand.

A cool ocean breeze blew across the plains in the Palmacosta region, bringing with it the scent of the ocean. Today was a calm day, skies as blue as the water below. Summer was only days away, as warm as it was now, Martel knew that there was a lot of work to be done in the village of Alfheim. And though she was no hunter, she still needed to go out to collect herbs for her work.

Keeping a fresh stock of healing herbs was busy work, yet still she enjoyed it greatly.

Perhaps against her better judgement, she had wandered out far beyond the valley where the village was nestled, seeking to get a glimpse of the ocean nearer to the city. Her dream the night before had her feeling uneasy, like something big was happening in the world, and she had to know what.

So there she was, staring out at the water for a time, until she sighed. It was time to head back to the village, and she still needed to find more herbs on the way back. Yet as the breeze blew through long, light green locks, emerald eyes closed as if to enjoy it.

Everything had grown harder, she didn’t know if the breeze was cool or warm. She couldn’t feel the salt in the air as it clung to her skin, nor the grains of sand that had slipped into her shoes. It was almost as though she no longer existed, yet she breathed in the air, knowing she was alive, yet uncertain how she could be, when living in such a state.

A hand lifted to touch lightly at the green gem fused to her skin, centered just below her collarbone. Somehow she was certain that her condition was the result of this stone, but she didn’t know how that could be.

Another soft sigh, which came out as more of a breath, and she turned to head back toward the road. As she passed by the entrance of Palmacosta, she bumped into a blonde girl younger than herself. Both of them flailed for a moment, before falling on their behind, leaving Martel feeling shocked that she’d been so unfocused she hadn’t noticed the girl.

“Oh, I’m so sorry.” The blonde girl said, smiling at her as she stood back up.

Martel smiled as well, shaking her head before getting to her feet, gently wiping the dirt from her dress. The girl started talking again before she was finished, and she had to stop what she was doing in order to listen.

The girl and her friends were worried that she may be hurt. Martel shook her head and used her staff to write in the dirt.

‘ I’m fine. There’s no need to worry. It was my fault for not paying attention. ‘

The blonde tried to apologize again, but Martel only smiled, placing one hand on the girl’s shoulder, gently. She hoped it was reassuring enough, but as she pulled away to leave, her gaze fell upon the auburn haired man.

Martel blinked, wondering why he gave her pause.                                                     Why did he seem so... familiar ?                                                                     Yet still a warm smile tugged at her lips, regardless.

Sterile, white walls and white ceiling, a room plain and devoid of colorful furnishings. This was where Martel had spent the past several months of her life, ever since she remembered her past, since she remembered the truth of this world. The Creators were up to something horrible, and because she now remembered everything, they had to keep her away from other people.

Most of her days were usually spent under heavy sedation, strapped down to the plush white bed. Barely able to move, to think. Those days always came at the cost of speaking her mind, of refusing to ‘get better’. From claiming that this reality was twisted and false.

It was true. It was all true. She knew the truth now.

But the Creators didn’t want anyone to know. And she was kept here until she either gave in and stopped talking about it, or she’d be kept here indefinitely. There were others in the ‘Fooji Clinic’ as well, she knew. Sometimes she could hear them screaming, just as she was sure they heard her when she was forcefully sedated.

Then there were the days when she’d been quiet long enough that she was allowed some freedom. Today happened to be one of those days.

Martel blinked emerald eyes as the door to her room clicked as the magnetic key was swiped through the locking mechanism. She looked away towards the high window as Pronyma walked into the room with two guards, one of which was carrying a canvas, the other carrying paint supplies.

“How about you make another painting for your loves ones?” Pronyma suggested, lips tugging upwards in a smile.

For her loved ones... yeah, right. She was certain none of her artworks ever left this building. Still, the chance to do anything other than sit around in her room all day, straining to stare out a window, was better than nothing. Otherwise she would sing, but the guards didn’t seem to allow anyone to be happy for long.

Martel took a deep breath and nodded as Pronyma closed the door. They were going to stay in the room and watch her, just in case she tried to sneak something to break out of the room. As if she could do that.

She decided to just paint something with a message. If she could play it off, maybe Pronyma would get cocky and take it out of the clinic. Martel had overheard that she had a second job as a therapist, apparently one of her patients was Martel’s younger brother, Mithos. With any luck, the painting would end up in her office, and would spark a memory for him.

Hours later, the end result was a small scene of a familiar place for both her and Mithos. Subtle hints and clues had been painted in, things only he would recognize, and even some clues that could -- hopefully -- spark a memory or two for Yuan as well.

When she was finished, she frowned at the artwork, pausing before paiting her signature, and then lowering her brush. Without a word, she tossed the paintbrush across the room, just before reaching for the canvas, as if to throw that as well. She was grabbed by the guards, and dragged to the bed, butshe stopped struggling immediately, glaring at the floor.

“What’s wrong dear?” Pronyma asked.

“It’s not right. No one in my family would even recognize that as my art.” She replied, putting on a show of being even more depressed. “It’d be better off as trash...”

Pronyma looked at the piece, looking thoughtful. “I thnk it looks lovely. A masterful work. You really want this to be thrown away?”

Martel didn’t even look up at it. She had to force herself to remember what she was doing this for. “That’s all it is. Who would want it anyway?”

“Well, I think it’s excellent.” Pronyma drew closer to the painting, scrutinizing it closely. “I personally love this piece. Would it bother you terribly if I keep it?”

Martel scoffed. “Do what you want with it. It won’t matter either way...” Tears prickled at the corners of her eyes. “Please, leave. I’d like to be alone.”

Pronyma smiled at her as she took the painting. “Of course, dear.” She nodded at the guards, who released Martel’s arms and gathered the art supplies before leaving the room.

“Lady Pronyma, we chould destroy that painting.” Martel heard one of the guards say, just barely, beyond the thck door.

“No. I do rather like this one. I’m going to keep it.”

She smiles gently as Mithos approaches her and give his message. Mother’s Day. Of course, she had spent so long alone, she’d forgotten many of the holidays of her world. But here he was, with her, instead of going to that place where they first met. The place where her other self rested, soul bound to the life of the Great Seed.

Ever since the sun rose, Martel had planned to get an early start to the day, had wanted to continue her usual routine. Sure, it was Mother’s Day, and she expected Mithos had a gift to give her, she herself wasn’t overly in the mood to celebrate. She just wanted to treat it as a normal day. However, it would seem that Yuan, and Kratos both, had other plans.

By the time she woke up, Kratos was already preparing breakfast, and when she tried to help, he insisted she do nothing for the day. But she couldn’t comply with that. She wanted to help, as she always did. Stubborn as Kratos was, she knew there would be no convincing him to change his mind, so instead she set about checking their supplies, until Yuan insisted on doing it for her.

Martel half opened her mouth to protest until she noted Mithos also doing things to help out, telling her to relax. It was Mother’s Day. She knew this, but still she hadn’t expected it to turn out like this.

She sighed, moving over to her pack to sit down. Had they all decided this together, or had one of them convinced the others to help out? Why did it have to be today of all days? She didn’t need them to do everything, though she greatly appreciated what they were trying to do for her. So when Kratos mentioned going into town to buy supplies, she immediately offered to go with him. She just wanted something to occupy her time, keep her thoughts from wandering.

He shot down her request immediately, asking her to relax, when she really couldn’t. The less she had to do, the more anxious she felt about the day. But she couldn’t tell them that. So she tried to settle down, tried to keep the anxiety from showing on her features. Tried not to remember…

Mithos ended up giving her a handmade gift, a small carving of one of the native birds of Heimdall. She remembered seeing that bird daily when they still lived in the city of the elves. She thanked him before he went back to helping out around camp, and then helping Kratos when he returned. But she was still restless. It was creeping up on her, she knew it was.

It wasn’t until later that day, when dinner was finished and they were settling down for the day that it happened. The words normally didn’t set her on edge, but today her anxiety levels had grown to a boiling point, all while trying to hold back. She’d had nothing to distract her mind, keep her from remembering.

But with the chorus of ‘Happy Mother’s Day!’, Martel covered her mouth with her hand, quickly rising to her feet and hurrying away to the sanctuary of the trees. She heard them all cry out after her, even Mithos sounded surprised by her sudden flight, but she couldn’t hold it back. She ignored the sound of footsteps chasing after her.

Moving around helped, and she needed to calm down before she did or said anything she might regret. But eventually she did stop, staring up at a tree, very much like the one that used to stand outside their home in Heimdall. Just like the one where-!

Tears welled in her eyes and she finally broke down. She crumpled to her knees, one hand still trying to cover her mouth to mask the sobs, the other digging into the soft ground, trying to steady herself. All she could remember was the image of her mother’s body, hanging from the highest branch, eyes sightless, yet still filled with a deep sadness. How she’d run to the old elven woman who agreed to look after a two-year-old Mithos for the day, while Martel went out to find flowers to give her mother…