These Worlds

Prologue

Who am I?

I am Aerin. Right?

Yes, sure. But, who am I?

The sky was dark, but for the flashing lights of white and red and sometimes blue that travelled across the expanse. Below, the cityscape shone brightly in the night, reaching out in all directions. The light from the city gave the clouds an almost purple hue against the blackness of the sky.

From her place on the high rooftop, Aerin Wilde could see the city stretching far in a lively show of lights. The sounds of nightlife reached her ears; the various vehicles down below and the aircraft overhead, muffled by the rush of a soft wind. She sat, cross-legged, looking out at the cityscape. Her back was straight and her shoulders squared, but she was relaxed.

Aerin turned her attention from the scene before her and gazed down. Her hands rested in her lap, where they held a sharp, silver object.

Who am I? The question bounced back and forth inside her head. She never really used to ask herself that question. Only now that she'd grown older, and things were changing, she was starting to wonder - to really wonder. Who am I?

Aerin raised her head once more. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes to the gentle oncoming breeze, trying to sort through her thoughts logically. Since that's the best way to deal with things. Logically.

Well, I'm a girl.

I'm seventeen years old.

My hair is long and dark.

My eyes are blue.

And I'm a Guardian. Well, almost, at least.

But... no, that wasn't quite what she was after - and she knew this. These simple, obvious answers didn't exactly satisfy her question.

A thought had been swimming around in Aerin's head lately. She would ask herself: how can I ever really know who I am? And after a bit of thought, she did come to some kind of conclusion. That being; one must know the past in order to better understand the present.

So, that said, she would try to remember. She would think, as far back as she could, to her earliest memory.

Aerin supposed that she would have grown up to be a rather sheltered person, living a sheltered life, in a sheltered world. That is, had she not stumbled upon her change of fate. Fate in the form of a shuriken, actually. A sharp, shiny piece of metal that, at the time, had been bigger than her own hand.

Aerin had been young. Very young. But she remembered picking up that shuriken, looking at it.

And she remembered that old scrapyard.

Why she had been there, and what she had been doing there - she could never recall. Only three things really stood out in her memory of that day: the shuriken, the old scrapyard, and the eyes.

Those many years ago, Aerin had held up that out-of-place shuriken, and had been curious. So, she had gone exploring, picking her way further into the old scrapyard. And then she'd found him. Or her. Aerin never actually did find out who they were... But their face had been almost completely covered, and all she could see was their eyes. Eyes, she remembered, that had looked cold and empty.

The eyes of the dead staring into the eyes of a child.

Aerin saw death at a very young age. Too young to perhaps fully understand the blank eyes and the blood stains, but old enough to sense the morbidity before her. And it was something that her mind's eye would never forget.

At the time, young Aerin had gasped. She hadn't screamed. She didn't even back away from the body. She remembered kneeling there amongst the dirt and scrap metal, stunned. The sharp, silver shuriken still resting between her small fingers.

Then strong arms had circled around her from behind, and before little Aerin knew it she was being lifted up. She didn't squirm. Her eyes didn't leave the lifeless body on the ground. Then she was carried away, until she could no longer see those cold and empty eyes.

Aerin had found herself cradled in the strong arms of a man. He had been dressed in black. His face was hidden in the shadows of thick material, a cowl pulled down low. She could make out nothing from the darkness as she'd searched for his eyes. He didn't say anything. He'd just kept walking as he'd carried her.

And she remembered feeling strangely safe.

Looking back now, Aerin didn't know what she had been thinking... He could have been dangerous. But then, she had only been a young child.

Wrapped in his arms, Aerin had rested her little head on his shoulder, and closed her eyes.

Her earliest memory.

But unfortunately, recalling this memory now only left Aerin with more questions than it did answers. Because, if knowing the past helps one to better understand the present... then how could Aerin understand herself now if she knew not who she was, and where she had came from?

Why had she been in that scrapyard on that one fateful day? What had she been doing, where had her parents been, her family? What role had she played in the world she'd lived in?

Aerin opened her eyes and gazed down at the shuriken resting in her hands. The lights of the city danced mildly on the shiny metal when she held it up before her face.

Who was I, before all of this?

Who am I?