The Descendants of Ardwall

3. The Memory Thief

If you'd told Raiden Larter a week ago that the life he'd known would be turned upside down, he'd have laughed in your face.

He was a normal boy. Nothing too special, as far as his imagination could ever have guessed. A forward for the junior high school soccer team. Part of the top ten percentile in his grade. Best friends with Luke Evans, captain of said junior high soccer team.

But a Demi? An individual who was supposed to have all these special powers that mortals - Medians - could only imagine?

Definitely not.

Only hours ago, Raiden had been pacing back and forth in the room he shared with Luke. To be frank, he'd been frustrated and even angry with his friend. The run-in with Hajime - someone he didn't remember until just hours later - had shaken him as well, adding to his confusion.

Raiden couldn't remember the last time he'd been this upset with Luke. How dare he just send him back here when his head was reeling with questions! Because he was too busy with some soccer meeting? ("It's Ronnin, Raiden, there's a difference," Luke had told him just before he'd left. "I could ask you to join the team one of these days, if you're up to it." As if Raiden were in the mood for games right now.)

Some best friend Luke was sometimes. That soccer-infested head of his was his absolute weakness. Well, soccer and this girl named Elena he went on and on about.

The knock on the door after what felt like a lifetime of anxious pacing came like a much-awaited calling. Raiden had been so relieved, believing that that would be Luke right now. But he'd been surprised.

Standing by the door was a young man, perhaps a handful of years older than he was.

And what absolutely shocked Raiden to the core?

The fact that the visitor standing there looked almost exactly like him.

Raiden had the strangest feeling that this was what he'd look like once he aged six or seven years. Wispy, shoulder-length dark hair framed a narrow face. Dark, loose, weather-beaten clothing concealed most of what could be seen as pale skin. The young man was a full two heads taller than Raiden was. He was leaner too, having grown out of a child's skin. But still some kind of familiarity rolled off of him.

Why, if Raiden hadn't known better, he might have mistaken him to be like his...

As if sensing his confusion, the stranger smiled. It was smile that didn't quite reach his golden eyes, so different from Raiden's coal-colored ones. Was that sadness he saw? Longing? There was something in those eyes that reminded Raiden so much of his mother. If anything, they were his mother's eyes.

"Hello, Raiden." The voice that emerged from a mouth so much like his father's was deep. In fact, the voice sounded almost exactly like his father's too.

What was happening? Who was this person? Raiden stumbled back into his room when the stranger took a step towards him. He continued backing away, but the young man followed him as if they were linked together by some unseen thread.

It was only when the young man closed the door behind him did Raiden remember he had a tongue that could speak.

"How do you know who I am?" He hated how his voice trembled just then, like a pathetic child's.

Just like that day when...

No. He mustn't remember that. Not now.

The stranger chuckled, a sad rumble coming from somewhere deep in his chest. "Oh, I think you'll figure out in just a bit, Raiden." A deathly pale hand began to reach out to him.