Chapter 13 False memories
A bright flash of light exploded in Vandal’s eyes, followed instantly by a crushing migraine and a throbbing lump swelling on top of his head.
He shrieked inwardly, voice cracking with panic, “Who the hell does this guy think he is? What the fuck is wrong with him?!”
When the pain finally faded, he had become someone else. He now stood nine feet tall with massive shoulders and thick, corded muscles covered in coarse hair. The name Alarik Yaegoroth had wrapped itself around his mind like an unwanted second skin.
A hundred years passed in what felt like heartbeats. Hammer strikes, scorching forge heat, and the heavy life of a giant swallowed him whole. Alarik Yaegoroth rose to become the greatest blacksmith among the outer members of the Anakim guild.
One day, Vandal stood before a massive nine-foot mirror, staring at the bald, bearded giant reflected there. He touched the cold surface with huge fingers.
“I have always been this,” the thought whispered. But another voice inside him screamed back in panic. “No. No, I have not. My name is Vandal Iyamu. I came from Earth. Why can’t I remember more?”
His real memories felt like broken shards, sharp and incomplete. The more he tried to grasp them, the faster they slipped away. A deep fear gripped his chest. If he died in this place, he would die in real life too. He was certain of it.
His wife’s soft voice floated from the bed. “My husband, won’t you come to bed? I am cold.”
Vandal turned. Yemini lay there, looking at him with tender, watery eyes and a gentle smile. He forced himself to smile back, climbed into bed, and wrapped his massive arms around her until she fell asleep against his chest.
Then a cold shiver ran down his spine.
Her face suddenly blurred in his arms. For a brief moment, it changed into another face, one that was younger, cleaner, and full of purity and strength. Almond-colored hair. Amber eyes with faint traces of pale blue.
“I know this face,” he whispered, touching her chin with trembling fingers. “Why does it look so familiar?”
“What is wrong?” she asked softly. “You have been acting strangely ever since.”
Vandal did not answer. His heart pounded wildly. Something vital was missing from his mind, something important he could not quite remember. He had to break free from this illusion before it consumed him completely.
He got up and walked to the window. Rain lashed against the glass. The sound triggered another memory.
“The letter,” he muttered. “My sister Aria wrote me a letter when she ran away from home.”
Yemini sat up quickly. “Alarik, you are scaring me. You do not have a sister.”
Vandal paced the room, his brow deeply furrowed. “Something is seriously wrong. Why am I a giant named Alarik Yaegoroth?”
“Honey, please,” she begged, reaching for his arm.
“Leave me alone!” he yelled.
Yemini flinched and sat back down on the bed, tears filling her eyes. Guilt stabbed him. He knelt beside her and gently took her hands.
“I am sorry. I did not mean to shout. I just need time to think. Please?”
She looked at him with fear in her eyes. “Promise me you will be okay, Alarik.”
“I promise,” he said quietly, kissing her forehead.
Later, walking alone toward the forge, the truth hit him like a hammer.
“I am not Alarik.”
In that moment, one hundred years of false memories shattered inside his mind. Vandal forced himself to stay detached, watching everything like a spectator trapped in a stranger’s body. He had to figure out how to escape before he died here and died for real.
Forty more years passed. He became an inner disciple of the guild and received his first power rune.
Then the sky tore open.
BOOM!
A deafening explosion ripped through the sky. Winged creatures with curved horns swooped down, spewing streams of fire. Vandal watched with cold eyes as guild leaders, elders, and mighty warriors fell screaming, blood spraying across the stone.
Black-scaled demons surged through the shattered gates like a tide of corruption, hissing black vapor rising wherever they touched the ground. Their leader, an eight-foot abomination with three barbed tails and burning eyes, grabbed a screaming giant and tore him in half.
The warrior’s guts slapped wetly onto the ground, his final scream dying in a gurgle.
Vandal’s stomach twisted, but he kept his breathing steady. His real memories were still painfully incomplete. The constant fear that death here meant death in the real world clawed at his throat like icy fingers.
He gripped his war hammer tighter.
Not yet. I will not die in this lie.
Just then, he spotted Yemini. She had dropped the bundles of firewood she was carrying and was running back toward their courtyard, eyes wide with alarm.
A demon creature noticed her. Its lips peeled back in a malicious leer, long tongue dripping. It dropped to all fours and charged straight at her.
Vandal’s heart seized with raw terror.
“I can’t let anything happen to her!”
He leaped from the window, landing with a heavy boom that cracked the stone beneath his feet.
“Yemini! Over here!” he bellowed, sprinting toward her with everything he had.
His wife, a warrior in her own right, drew two short blades and met the creature head-on. Steel flashed. In one fluid motion, she slit its throat just as it tried to tear her head off.
She turned and ran toward him.
But Vandal suddenly felt a cold, vicious stare burning into them from the right. His blood ran cold.
“It’s their leader. Shit!”
His urgency exploded tenfold. This was not his real life. This was not even his body. Yet the thought of losing her filled him with desperate, protective fury.
The monstrous leader lunged, three barbed tails whipping behind it. In a blur, it was beside Yemini, adamantine claws slicing straight toward her head.
“Noooo!” Vandal roared, flinging his war hammer with all his massive strength.