A door stood in front of Gin. Though to the unknowing, unless you bumped into it by mistake, one wouldn’t know. To the naked eye, it looked like the sandy beach that surrounded it. However, Gin knew. There was no way in hell he would forget. Not when the very door led to his home; his village.

Yet, he didn’t want to enter. He understood the dream-like state he found himself in. Although what he saw felt real, he could not smell the orchids behind him, he could not hear the birds that always migrated at this time of year and he could not feel the roughness of his Xernim. In fact, the parasite vanished altogether, leaving behind an untainted version of his hands. No roots. No vines. No nothing.

‘Oi, are you going to do anything, dream?’ Gin called out. He heard his voice surround him rather come straight from his mouth. Like an echo chamber of sorts even if he was sitting in an open beach.

Gin waited. He waited until the seconds turned into minutes and the minutes turned into hours. Still, nothing happened.

‘Alright. Alright. I get it,’ Gin rolled his eyes before getting up and taking a deep breath. ‘You want me to go through, right? Well, I’m not! I don’t want to and nothing you’ll do will change my mind!’

As if the world he created listened, the nanobots that covered the location of the door disappeared, revealing the unopened hatch. A pad in the middle beckoned him. “Just place your hand on it,” it would say. But Gin remained steadfast in his conviction.

‘I don’t want to,’ he yelled back.

The voices stopped. The hatch opened. Stairs formed in front of Gin’s eyes. Then footsteps echoed. First came soft tap, tap, taps but soon loud thump, thump, thumps. The sound grew louder and louder until Gin’s heart skipped a beat when a head of a woman popped out. She had long, black hair and dark, tanned skin. She looked like she was in her late thirties with wrinkles forming around her cheekbones and forehead. As she climbed the steps, her not-so-slender physique showed through the traditional red sari.

‘Of course, you’d be here,’ Gin complained.

The woman stayed silent.

‘“The woman”? Come on, Gin,’ he beat himself up over his word choice. ‘Even if it’s a figment of my imagination, at least give her some respect. It’s my mother for crying out loud!’

His mother stayed silent.

‘But still…why are you here? Shouldn’t you be rotting inside your grave?’

To no one’s surprise, she stayed silent.

‘What? Worm got your tongue?’ Gin joked before sighing a melancholic, ‘Heh.’

His mother did something different for once. She reached inside a pocket stitched on the outside of her sari and pulled out an all-too-familiar cuboid: his INS. The red tint in particular gave away the purpose of the contraption.

Then she threw it right at his feet.

‘What? You want me to do it again?’ Gin’s blood began to boil. ‘Because I’ll do it.’

He grabbed hold of the INS as he got up. He placed his finger in the first hole and activated the mechanism. In an instant, the sword formed, its metallic silver shining under the non-existent sun.

‘Look, you’re not real,’ Gin pointed the sword at the woman’s neck. ‘You don’t feel like the mother that brought me up, you don’t look like the dead mother I buried, you don’t even fucking sound like –’

‘You shouldn’t swear, Gin,’ she spoke at last.

‘Oh, wow,’ Gin choked as he dropped his weapon and collapsed to the floor in tears. Her voice was as soft and angelic as he remembered.‘I can’t. I can’t. Can’t can’t can’t can’t can’t can’t can’t can’t can’t can’t. Do you know how much effort and time it took me to forget? I even convinced myself to stop dreaming altogether to get everyone out of my mind. So why are you back now of all times? Tell me!’

A hand patted Gin’s head. He didn’t dare look up. He stared at the ground that got more and more soaked as the nostalgia hit him hard instead. His heartbeat alternated between calmness and throbbing in agony. He couldn’t tell if he missed the feeling of his mother rubbing his hair or if he hated the fact that it was a mere imitation of the real thing.

At that moment, he realised how small his body had become. His arms lacked his adult muscles and his belly hung out a little. When he touched his face, he noticed the lack of beard. Like the little boy he once was.

‘For fuck’s sake,’ Gin cried out, his voice squeaky and high-pitched. ‘Seriously, what do you want me to do?’

She picked up the INS and placed it inside Gin’s hands as the only response.

‘No. I refuse,’ Gin protested.

‘Follow me then,’ she instructed, opening the hatch once more and taking the first steps down.

‘I can’t do that either, sorry. I’m too afraid of what awaits me since, if I’m meeting you now, I’ll probably meet them too.’

‘I understand,’ his mother reassured, surprising him of the sudden conversation that sparked.

‘Sorry.’

‘It’s ok. There’s a lot I want to show you but take your time, son,’ a final, warm smile caused Gin to cry some more as she disappeared along with the door to his village.

Now what? Gin wondered. His body felt heavy and tired. Was it possible to be tired in a dream? Who knows? But that’s how he perceived it. So much so that he needed to lie down on his back. He didn’t even notice the sea levels rising, enveloping him in a watery grave. His breathing slowed down. Air escaped his body. He sank into a bottomless abyss.

At least the bubbles are pretty, he thought to himself as he lost track of his surroundings.

****

Gin gasped for air. He woke up in a panic, eyes darting in every possible direction. He then looked up. Right in front of him stood a fish-like being as tall as a mountain and as strong as a tiger. The olive eyes glowed under the night sky as the monster stared right at his soul.

‘Ah, you’re awake,’ it said.

Blades. Shield.

Without hesitation, Gin leapt up, activated the INS and got into a defensive position. He took a closer look at his opponent, reading every possible move it could make. He took special note of the bone-skewers that slotted on the side of the arms but, with how muscle-packed the enemy was, a single punch or kick could send him out of commission too.

‘Whoa there,’ it pleaded with hands up. However, the skewers unfolding bit by bit as if ready for a battle. ‘Calm down, mate. I don’t want to fight. I’m friendly.’

‘Huh?’

‘Look around you kek,’ it smirked.

Behind him sat several squadron W members, all in a playful and relaxed state of mind. The elementals that stood guard beforehand now took their turn to bathe in the oasis while the familiar types rested on the sand. However, no matter their position in the area, everyone could see Gin without any problem. Some even waved at him when he made eye contact.

‘Are you real?’ Gin questioned. ‘Am I still dreaming?’

‘I’m as real as the flounder in your pants,’ the person announced.

Did he…did he just make a vulgar joke? Gin’s eyebrow raised, still in suspicion. ‘Not a special type of stealth bestial where only I can see you?’

‘Pfft, you’re as odd as him,’ the mage scoffed, retracting his bone back to his arm.

‘What do you mean by that?’

‘I’m talking about Gen of course!’

Gin’s jaw dropped. His stance relaxed. His blades and shield deactivated without even thinking about the trigger words. He wasn’t mishearing things, right? The mage said “Gen” not “Gin.” Or did he? Even if he did say “Gin,” how did he know his name?

‘Did the colonel say anything about me to you?’ he asked, his face crumpled in complete and utter confusion.

‘Who? Maria? Not really,’ the mage rubbed his chin. ‘I thought you looked the spitting image of your father, so I just knew I had to come over and wake you up. But it seems like you get up in a bad mood when sprayed with water.’

‘Wow. So, it wasn’t my imagination. Who are you?’

‘Kek. You’re full of questions. Though Gen was like that when he saw me for the first time as well,’ a bright smile formed when the mage recalled the memory. ‘Anyway, I’m Astral Tempest, a high-ranked aquatic bestial type and ambassador to squadron O. Pleasure to meet you.’

‘Uhhh,’ Gin paused to process the entire conversation before adding a simple, ‘Likewise. I’m Gin Julius Gale.’

‘Julius? Don’t tell me he actually went and married and had kids with that Elizabeth girl. The absolute madman!’

‘Wait. Hold on,’ Gin raised a hand.

Gin stared at the mage. He had so many questions. After all, the only mage he knew his father had connections with was Wo. But now? An unknown mage stood in front of him. One that not even his parents talked about. Is that what his mother meant by things she wanted to show?

What is going on? he wondered as he slapped the water off his cheeks. It woke him up as he decided on what to say next. In all honesty, after he gathered his thoughts in a coherent manner, he concluded he felt too exhausted to deal with this sort of stuff. He just wanted to go back and nap beside Aqmi again. But when he looked back at the tree he rested against, he couldn’t find the mage-eater anywhere. So much for that idea.

‘I thought mages don’t know about those things,’ Gin proceeded with caution and avoided any personal questions. ‘I mean, Brim didn’t even know how animals procreate let alone the natural way for humans.’

‘Well, you’re right,’ Astral admitted after a lengthy pondering. ‘If it weren’t for Gen, I might have the same way of thinking just like the others. Which is a shame because I can’t get laid because of that.’

‘You really are a perverted mage, aren’t you?’ Gin returned an unimpressed look. ‘Are you sure it’s the others’ mentality and nothing to do with you personally?’

The bestial shrugged. ‘Maybe you’re right and it’s all me. But I have standards. I’m not gonna force or coerce anyone to think like me. It won’t feel right to have someone fall for me in that way. Has to be natural if that makes sense.’

‘It does, but I can’t believe I’m having this kind of talk with a mage. My father really has rebuilt your mindset from the ground up. If not for your appearance, I would have mistaken you for a manush. You even got the euphemisms right.’

‘Meh. It is what it is,’ Astral shrugged again. ‘Oh, speaking of which…’

Just like that, the topic changed in an instant and continued to change in one fluid stream of talk. However, Gin felt at incredible ease the more he spoke with the mage. Not only did he speak like a manush, but the topics the mage chose surprised him. From relationships to customs to manush cuisine - oh, how Gin missed animal meat and non-mage vegetables – he didn’t realise how he never talked about such stuff with the rest of the squadron. Maybe I’ve become too mage-like, he concluded, a wry smile forming on his lips.

‘Hey, Astral?’ Gin interrupted the flow.

‘Mm?’

‘When and where exactly did you meet us manush?’ Gin’s heart began to ache. However, he stayed steadfast with a determined look in his eyes that unnerved the mage a little.

‘Hmm,’ Astral stroked what appeared to be thin whiskers on his chin. ‘I met them several decades ago. As for where, eh-I-dunno.’

‘No specifics?’

‘Nope,’ the mage shrugged. ‘None at all.’

‘No problem. Thanks for answering,’ Gin gave a professional reply. But, for whatever reason, he doubted the response. In that short time in getting to know him, Gin judged that Astral wasn’t one to lie. Although that didn’t mean he told the full truth all the time. Should I press further? he entertained the idea.

‘Do you know –’

‘Sorry, Gin, I need to go,’ Astral interrupted all of a sudden. He took off in an instant, heading towards no location in particular.

‘Now that’s just plain suspicious,’ Gin murmured.

Though he put his doubts aside when the other mages got out of the waters and packed up their belongings. The tinoos also above shrieked to alert everyone of their change in formation to a V-shaped arrowhead pointing East.

‘Time to go already? Well, the colonel did say we should leave when the ambassador came back,’ Gin remembered.

The daze he found himself in didn’t go away. On the contrary, the more he stared at the mages in front of him, the more he fell into a sense of uneasiness. Though it wasn’t a bad feeling or anything. Just that state of forgetfulness as if you needed to do something but not sure what exactly.

Just then a squawk alerted him to focus as the tiny legs of Aqmi hopped towards him. As the bird came closer, Gin noticed the tail of a small rodent hanging from the side of its mouth. So, they do eat other things he surmised.

‘Oi, Gin.’

‘Hm?’ Gin looked up to find Joan right beside him.

‘Are…Are you ok?’ she asked.

‘Why are you asking?’

‘I don’t know,’ she shrugged. ‘Gut feeling. Especially with how blank you looked just standing here.’

Gin bent down and extended a hand for Aqmi to jump onto. When the bird did, he stood up and placed it on his shoulders, where it finished its meal. ‘The ambassador abruptly woke me up so I haven’t really pulled myself together yet. Though I’m surprised he came so early.’

‘Early?’ Joan raised an eyebrow.

‘Yeah, weren’t they meant arrive in a couple more days?’

‘They were meant to arrive a few days ago. We’ve been here for a week now. If anything, Astral, Brim and the others are late.’

A week?! Didn’t we just arrive at the oasis yesterday? Gin’s eyes widened, though he didn’t say what he thought. In the end, he went for a standard, ‘I see. I guess I misheard the colonel.’

‘You really don’t remember this past week, do you?’ Joan frowned, making Gin doubt himself at the same time. ‘You relaxing and playing in the Oasis, feeding Aqmi some mage-meat to get used to it, training Syndra, drawing your weird sketches of everyone etcetera?’

Gin blinked in quick succession. The more he dwelled on Joan’s list of things he did, the more the memories slotted into place. He remembered how refreshing the waters felt. He remembered the scratching sounds of Aqmi’s tongue grinding against his Xernim. He began to remember the drawings he drew. He even checked his palm where, lo and behold, he found an ink stain from the quill that exploded on the Xernim.

‘And where’s Syndra now?’ he asked.

‘Practising the one-two punch exercise you gave her.’

‘Ah, yes,’ Gin now recalled the exercises he drilled into Syndra’s head as Alder did to him. He placed a hand on his forehead but only finding coolness upon touch.

‘Um, what are you doing?’ Joan grew more and more suspicious. Even Aqmi gave a concerned growl.

‘Checking my temperature. Do you mages not do this?’

‘Gin,’ Joan addressed, rubbing her eyes with two nail-less fingers, ‘Tell me how can you feel your temperature with your gauntlets in the way?’

‘Oh,’ Gin snapped his hand away. He stared at his hand, wondering where the time went, especially with how slow the days prior felt. ‘Wow. I really am out of it today. I probably do need to rest.’

Joan’s frown turned to concern. She placed her palm on his forehead and checked the temperature in his stead. One nail in particular pressed hard against his skull but didn’t draw blood. To Gin’s relief, her expression eased up upon getting the result.

‘You got lucky with your guess. You are on the cooler side,’ she analysed. ‘Thirty-six-point-seven degrees. Nothing bad though strangely enough. You should still rest though. I don’t like how you’re acting.’

‘Heh,’ Gin’s finally got hold of his composure. ‘If I’m fine, then I’ll go help the others prepare for departure. The enemy won’t stop scheming while

‘Rest,’ Joan snapped a single, damning word that sent a shiver down his spine.

‘Rest it is.’

‘Good,’ gave a warm smile at his obedience. ‘The caravan on the far left is free. You and the other leaders are using that. I got some work to do before that so see you there.’

‘Alright,’ Gin nodded as he made his way with mage-eater on his shoulders sleeping as it always seemed to do. Although he gathered the situation at last and making sense of it, he still couldn’t shake off a sinking feeling. Was it the dream? The meeting with the coincidental meeting with Astral? Or was it the concern Joan showed that he started to believe in as well? Either way, something caused butterflies in his stomach.