In front of Isel was no longer a void littered with Incandescent lights, instead it was a desert of spikes. Tinted red and rocky, thousands of cone-shaped spires rose from the ground. As far as the eye could see, these spires persisted. An orange dust covered the entire floor of the land, and Isel found himself standing in this sharp desert.
In front of Isel, he saw another person, but they were pierced by a spike. Their skin was olive with short black hair, laying with a red spike protruding from the ground through their forearm. Yet Isel did not have the capacity to concern himself with other matters at the moment.
Isel immediately stumbled back upon being greeted by the barren red land. His ragged pants got hooked onto a ground spike no taller than a finger and he fell onto the ground. His hand happened to land on another small spike while he tried to break his fall backwards.
"Agh, wha?…"
He quickly picked his hand up, though it was already bleeding from the spike. As he pressed his hand against his shirt to stop the bleeding, his thoughts flooded in like a harsh wave.
'I… I am in the worst of places, this is my punishment… I must have committed a great crime, and now I deserve great punishment."
Isel attempted to come to terms with his current scenario by justifying his reason for being here, but he failed. The pain in his hand was too grounding for him to delude himself with punishment and crimes he never committed.
No, he knew the reality, as much as he could know in the moment. He had no memory before the void, yet he felt that it was for a just reason. He felt fresh, new, and born. He was able to quickly abandon the thought of regaining his lost memory, if he even had any to regain. A newborn does not require memories, they require knowledge and the experience of living.
A sudden weak voice broke his train of thought.
"Hey… man. I know you've got your own issues but… I could use a hand."
Isel looked up to the impaled man — or so he assumed — and realized that the man wasn't dead yet, nor was he impaled anymore. He had since removed himself from the spike and lay against the base of another much larger one just a few centimeters away.
Isel heard the sound of his voice for the first time as he spoke.
"Uhm, I'm not sure how exactly I can help you."
Just as weak as the olive-skinned man. Actually slightly more pathetic if he had to compare.
The olive man stared at Isel with a look that he found hard to discern. Anger? Confusion? It seemed to be an odd combination of the two, mixed in with a pained grimace.
"Not the time to be fucking around dude… give me… your bag…"
Isel looked down and saw what he wore. There were layers of upper wear, a lot of them hardly enough to cover its own layer fully, and they were all secured to by multiple black straps crossing in a cross pattern over his chest and back He noticed his white hair had only gone down to his shoulders now. His pants were ragged and seemed to be in dire need of a replacement. He had already suffered an injury due to the damn fabrics.
A bag also was attached to the left side of these pants. Isel quickly untied the bag and threw it to the olive-skinned man.
Since he had just looked at his own garments, Isel quickly realized that the olive skinned man was wearing something quite similar to him. Rags and upperwear secured with black straps, though his bottom wear was far more effective at protecting the man. Metal plates on his shins and thighs covered a thick and black fabric.
The man caught the bag and quickly used his teeth to open and dig into it. He pulled a syringe out and fiddled with it before stabbing it into his arm. After a short while the grimace on the man's face slowly relaxed. He then grabbed a bandage from the bag and tied it around his arm where the spike had poked arm. He then ripped out a cloth being held by the black straps and crafted a quick tourniquet.
The olive-figure had an odd efficiency to the process. Not to mention some kind of mechanical grace. But what good would gracefulness do in a place such as this?
Isel stared as the process occurred, bewildered by the current circumstances. Where was he really? And who was this man? They clearly had some connection. He could only assume one thing.
"Uh, sir… how did you know what was in the bag?
The olive man quickly snapped his head back at Isel, this time has face was not plagued by either anger, confusion, or pain. This time his face was concerned.
"What? What are you talking about? I told you not that I'm not in the mood for jokes. So cut it out. Please."
Isel's thoughts on the matter had been confirmed. He had known this man in front of him. He really did lose his memories. But where they really his at this point…? Isel reluctantly decided to explain the situation to the man.
"No, I'm sorry, I'm not joking around. I'm serious. I don't know who you are, and I don't know where I am…"
"You, you really don't know?"
"Really."
The olive man's face remained staring at Isel, his expression didn't change for a few short seconds. And then he threw his head down and stated to breathe heavily.
"Do you… do you remember your name?"
"My name is Isel"
The man's expression quickly dropped and it seemed as if he was about to try and argue against what Isel had said. He bit his lip so hard it got cut and bled. But quickly the man took another deep breath and assumed an indifferent expression.
"My name is Charine Lesvil, I work for the Manichae Department of Expansive Exploration. I left Manichae about a month ago with a man named Leal Solsven. Just a few hours ago, we were caught in a dangerous environmental phenomenon. That man has just been confirmed dead… by you."
Isel took in the information given by Charine, and nodded after he had processed what was said.
"I take it that I'm in the body of this Leal?"
"Yes, but he's gone now. He must have died on contact with the spike."
"I'm…. Sorry."
"It's nothing you were involved with, so don't keep your mind on it. If anything it's best you believe that this is your body, not Leal's. He is no longer here."
Isel now knew more of the situation, and more things started to make more sense to him. The rags he wore were bloodied as they had been worn for weeks on weeks, and whatever trials Leal had faced, they made him bleed.
"Well… Charine, you don't seem very surprised about my existence. Is this normal?"
Charine coughed and contorted his face in pain before replying.
"Yes, it's normal. When a person dies, another is immediately born in their stead. That is the mechanism of life and death in this land."
"Why…?"
Charine shrugged.
"Who knows?"
"So that's how you knew Leal is dead? Because I'm alive?"
"You're clearly not the same person he was, so yes."
The olive skinned man continued to speak
"Right now, we need to turn back and head to Manichae. This land is far too intense for just two people to traverse, or at least people of our — as in Leal and I's — capacity, and even less so our current ability. That being said, we will be safe here for another few hours, and so I have no reason to deny a response to any question you have about the world."
"Are you serious?
"Yes, someone will have to teach you at some point, and we are going to survive the journey you need to know at least some things."
"Thank you, Charine."
"Dont mention it. So, your first question?"
Isel pondered. Ever since Charine had told Isel his name, there was something at the top of his head that was truly nagging him.
"Well, for starters your name perplexes me. Not to be rude, of course."
"Huh? What's wrong with my name?"
"Charine… isn't that a bit feminine? Perhaps people name things differently here, but that's what my instinct tells me."
"Yeah…? It's feminine because I'm a woman."
Isel stared into Charine's eyes for a few awkward seconds, but could find no response less pathetic than what he ended up saying.
"…oh."