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Mayra

Mayra stayed close behind Alessio as she stared at the strange man. He looked so familiar. Similar colouring and hair to Nithel so maybe he was from-

Wait.

Mayra narrowed her eyes. It couldn’t be. Could it?

Then the Castle shifted, morphing into a strange temple-like room with an ornate ceiling and pillars. Mayra should have felt exhausted from all the changing. But she was used to it at this point. She just didn’t care anymore.

There seemed to be a door carved with a silvery tree. Alessio muttered to himself when he saw it, as if he recognised it.

Mayra felt a pang of familiarity too when she saw the tree pattern. “Tree – of life,” she said out loud. An old symbol from the nation of her ancestors. The nation whose language she spoke, but couldn’t understand because no one ever told her what the words meant.

Her gaze moved silently towards the man, who looked back at her with no hint of recognition. The facial structure, the kind eyes – it was definitely Nithel. Older, wiser and more world weary though.

She looked at Alessio, who had an expression like he had just been walloped in the stomach. She knew how close he was to Nithel – so the fact that his old friend didn’t recognise him must have been hard.

Mayra didn’t want to speak up – it was the last thing she wanted. But she found herself moving towards the now adult Nithel and looking up at him. Searched his face, but did her best not to look him in the eye. “You’re – Nithel. Yes?”