Memory

         The blue gem glinted in the candlelight as the shuttered lantern moved in the wind. The gem, hanging from a tarnished silver chain, gently swayed as she walked. Idly, she fingered the gem, wondering who she was. She knew nothing about herself; the abbey had only been able to tell her that she had been found, unconscious and covered with bruises, eight days ago. She was three miles from the abbey, and had been found two more miles out. Rain began to fall; a frigid wind extinguished the small flame. Discouraged from the lack of knowledge and light, she pressed on into the bitter wind and the pouring rain.
         A mile later, the rain lessened. The night, silent in the aftermath of the brief storm, pressed in around her, nearly tangible. Her anxiety increased as she slowly continued. Unconsciously, she raised a hand to clasp the gem. She hummed an almost-familiar tune. She paused, brow furrowed in thought. Her memory continued to fail her. Frustrated that memories of who she had been still eluded her, she yanked her hand away from the gem, trying not to think about her mysterious past.
         "Darling," a calming, male voice resounded around her, bouncing off of the precarious footing that she was standing on. The voice repeated itself several more times. "Seeing you in such a condition hurts me, Nathyrra."
         She was somewhat startled at the voice. It was as if she had been expecting it, waiting for it to speak. "What did you call me?" she whispered.
         "Do you wish to change your name again, Nathyrra? You were born Nathyrra, but you changed your name in the town."
         "Nathyrra?"
         "That is your name, is it not?"
         "How would you know?"
         The voice laughed. "Nathyrra, darling, I know more about you than you realize. I know everyone."
         "Who are you?" she asked cautiously. She wasn't sure she wanted to trust this voice, but something in her heart urged her to believe it.
         "Who am I? I am no one of consequence, Nathyrra."
         "Surely one who knows everyone must be of some consequence."
         "Not necessarily."
         "Where are you?"
         "Look around and you will see."
         Annoyed, she complied but saw nothing out of the ordinary. She asked a different question. "Who am I?"
         "You? You are Nathyrra."
         She rolled her eyes. "That doesn't help."
         "Ask yourself your question."
         "Do you not know?" she cried.
         "I never said that."
         "Do you ever give straight answers?"
         "I never said that either," laughed the voice.
         "You're avoiding my question," she said, accusatory.
         "Catching on, are you? Took you long enough. You always were slow with that, when you were younger."
         "You knew me when I was younger?"
         "Darling, I practically raised you."
         "And maybe if you didn't avoid so many of my questions, I would've caught on sooner."
         "Maybe, but I doubt it."
         "What do you mean?"
         "Don't worry about it, Nathyrra."
         "If you won't tell me anything about myself, will you tell me where I am?"
         "The World of Cron." Lightning flashed overhead and Nathyrra, as she had begun to think of herself, jumped.
         "Where in Cron?"
         "On the far Eastern Border, near the Town and Castle Pinehurst." As the disembodied voice said this, images flashed rapidly in her head.
         A young girl abused by an older one wearing lace...
         A big man held spiders in his hand and the young girl, now older, screamed...
         Lightning stuck a tree as the young woman ran by...
         Various voices called out to her. "Nathyrra!"
         The voice sounded smug. "Nathyrra, are you all right?"
         "Yes," she gasped. A memory overwhelmed her.
         A young girl, maybe six or seven, sat beside an older girl, probably closer to eleven or twelve. The older girl was reading aloud. The little girl rested her head on the other's arm. "Nathyrra," the older girl scolded. "Haven't I told you not to touch me?"
         The little girl jumped away. "I'm sorry, Lissy. Really, I am."
         Lissy, dressed in lace, began beating Nathyrra.
         Nathyrra blinked away her strange, new memory. Besides her name, it was all she had, and she didn't want it. "What's wrong, Nathyrra?" the voice asked.
         "Nothing," she replied shortly. She began walking at a quick pace.
         "Do you remember the story?"
         "Stop following me."
         "How can I? You have hold of me."
         Before she could reply, another memory invaded her mind.
         Lissy's husband, Ryan, was no longer the kind man Nathyrra had known. Lissy of the Cold Heart had changed him. He grabbed Nathyrra's arm and held tight. "Go away," Nathyrra told him.
         "Hold on," Ryan said. "I want to show you something."
         Maybe he hadn't changed. Nathyrra stopped pulling away from him. He reached in his pocket. When he opened his hand, Nathyrra was faced with spiders. She screamed.
         Nathyrra turned away from the memory. She flung the lantern into the darkness.
         The voice laughed. "Did you honestly think I would be on that grubby thing? It's filthy!"
         "Just get away!"
         "I can't."
         Nathyrra, nearly insane from the voice, began tearing off her clothes. Her dress lay in strips around her. "Now leave me be." Her voice shook. She had forgotten about the blue gem.
         "Not yet."
         She angrily glanced down and saw that all she had left on was that gem. She snatched it up but it burned her fingers.
         "Hey, you found me."
         "I want you away. I can't stand you anymore."
         "Oh, Nathyrra, you don't mean that."
         "Yes, I do!" she screamed. "You aren't helping me at all. You are nothing but a nuisance."
         "A nuisance? Nathyrra, that hurts your brother."
         "My brother?" she asked softly.
         "Yes."
         "No! You lie!"
         "No," the voice said gently. "Let me tell you a story.
         "You were raised in Castle Pinehurst. Your older sister, Lissy, and your oldest brother, Aaryn, were the heads of the castle while your parents were gone. Aaryn was a magician of prominent stature throughout the land, and was well-known and loved. He made for you a blue gem, inhabited by his spirit after he died, to talk to when you were lonely. He protected you from Lissy's temper, during which she wanted to hurt you. So Lissy killed him.
         "Lissy of the Cold Heart, you began to call her. She killed your protector in the castle, so you traveled with your parents as often as you could. But one night, while they were home, she killed them too.
         "You had no choice. You were subject to Lissy's temper. When Ryan, a kind man, became her husband, you clung to him like a lifeline. But he changed. He tortured you with spiders until you were red in the face. So you decided to leave. You collapsed a few miles outside of Pinehurst Town. And I, Aaryn, cared for you by removing your memory.
         "But I now see what a mistake that was. I had wanted you to begin a new life. But I suppose, at fifteen, beginning a new life without a childhood is rather difficult. Nathyrra, I'm so sorry."
         Nathyrra sank to her knees and cried.