Immortalis

The Group

As soon as he's in proximity with the group, and they lay their sights on him, he notices that they're staring daggers at him. They all visibly seemed uneasy at this newcomer and didn't want to talk to him for some odd reason. However, one of them steps forward and announces the following:

"You! What do you want?"

"Well, I just... I don't know who I am. I don't know anything. I've been looking for people for as long as I can remember, but you're the first group I ran into. Please, I just want to understand."

"Understand what?"

"The hell that's going on! I just told you I do not remember a single thing of the past. I keep getting these remembrances from nowhere, from a life I didn't live."

"Just because you cannot remember, does not mean that you didn't live. Now, what's your name? And please, speak with haste. We are on a path and cannot stray for long."

"Ugh, once again, I do not know. Do yo.."

"Wait! What's that writing on your footgear?" He utters while pointing directly at his shoes. "Are those yours?"

"I woke up with them on, so I assume they're mine."

"Ah, I can see now that this is a crypt." He states upon closer examination.

"I thought I was illiterate, but yes! It's something jibberish that I can't make out. Do you know someone who could possibly decipher it?" Curiosity and angst loom over his mind.

"Yes, but... give us a moment please."

"Huh?"

The group then huddles together and begin debating. Two men and a woman seem to facilitate the conversation, while the rest simply nod in agreement or abstain from participation. A minute or so passes, and they finish speaking to one another. The group then breaks up and the same man from before walks up to the confounded stranger with a woman at his side.

The woman bends over and studies the reading for a moment. She does everything imaginable to compose a solution to the problem. She touches the gold metal, feels out the words, holds it against the sun, and after several experiments, brings out a container with blackened dust on the inside. This substance shook the man, made him fall into a pit of fear without any reason.

"STOP! What is that?!"

"It's called riktum. A formula that unlocks certain crypts made by the hand of a deity."

"What? Are you telling me that these shoes were made by some sort of a God?"

"Not necessarily. It could have been made by a certain subordinate of a God, the likes of an Angel or Devil."

"Okay, so what happens now? Do you just blow the dust on my shoes, and the letters appear normally in front of us?"

"Yes, but you have to understand, this dust never brings any good to the person who wishes to use it. It is an agent that serves solely as a medium to information, but the knowledge which follows typically haunts the person it's used for. Now, shall I proceed?"

The man freezes. He starts noticing a pattern of contradiction. The more answers he tries to find, the more questions seem to take place. Not knowing what to do, he looks up into the sky and tries to make a decision. If it was anything else, he would have moved on. But this is the key to his memories, to his past, to himself.

"Please, we are on a path. You must choose!" The woman exclaims.

"What path? What are you talking about?"

"A lost soul is one that can never come to light. You are in a jungle with no trees, a city with no lights, and a fortunate act has made you into an unfortunate being. Make your choice, or we will take our leave."

"Fine, just... will it hurt?" He asks, wondering why she speaks in riddles.

"The pain will not be physical." She says with a sort of confidence, which made the man all the more mind-boggled.

She then pours out some dust into her left hand, then rubs both her hands together while humming a chant that bewildered the man. While rubbing, her hands begin to have this color emerging from them. First, the dust was black. It then turned to a dark purple, and then a solid white color. After the white was obvious to all those around her, she blew into her hands in the direction of the man's shoes.

The letters slowly began transforming from an alien language into one that everyone, including the man, could read.

Across the golden metal on his shoe was engraved the word Immortalis.

Once the woman saw that, she fell back and began jittering and panicking. The rest of the group then try and look at the man's shoes, and they all begin acting like they had seen a ghost.

"Immortalis? What does that mean?"

No one answers. They perceive him with terror. A daunting figure standing right in front of their eyes. They begin abandoning the man, and he screams after them for answers.

"Wait! Wait, please! What does it mean?!"

Before he could ask another question, they have all disappeared. He starts considering the possibility that he's cursed, or worse yet, having an endless nightmare. For how could a group of people vanish in the split of an instant? His mind was fragile, his body shaking, he felt a chill rush down his spine. Moreso, the vexation which accompanied him all along was now magnified into something much more intense. He was scared of himself because he didn't understand who he was or what he had done.