Alex woke in darkness. He knew that he was awake because of the pain. It felt as if he’d fallen down a long flight of stairs, hitting every step on his way down. He tried to sit up but the pain was too much, and he slumped back to the ground once more.

Where am I? he thought. How did I get here?

Even thinking hurt, but now that the questions had started there was no way to stop them. He tried again to get up and failed. All at once his body moved without his even thinking about it. He scrambled to his knees, looking around wildly. He knew he was trying to find someone, but who?

“Vankin,” Alex said softly.

Yes, Whalen Vankin should have been close by, but why? Who was Whalen Vankin? Why should he be close? Alex tried and failed to find a face in his mind, the face that went with the name Whalen Vankin. His failure troubled him. His mind wondered for a time, going completely blank, and then a new question came: an important, urgent question that he had to answer.

Who am I?

For a moment the question didn’t make sense. He thought about the answer for a long time, slowly forming the words in his mind before speaking.

“I am Alexander Taylor, adventurer, wizard, dragon lord, and . . .”

“Say it again,” a voice inside his head demanded.

“I am Alexander Taylor, adventurer, wizard, dragon lord . . .”

“Again, louder,” said the voice.

“I am,” Alex started but stopped as a new pain ripped through his brain.

“Again,” the voice demanded.

“I am Alexander Taylor, adventurer, wizard, and dragon . . .”

“Again, again, again,” the voice screamed over the growing pain.

“I am Alexander Taylor, adventurer and, and . . .”

The words came slower and the pain in his head pounded like a giant hammer every time he spoke them. Alex didn’t know why, but he had to keep repeating the words.

“I am Alexander Taylor, adventurer, wizard, dragon . . .”

Each time he said the words the pain grew. It felt like pieces of his brain were being torn away, and he put his hands on his head to try and protect himself from the pain. He continued to try to say the words, all of the words, but with each attempt he knew that something was forgotten, something was lost.

“I am Alexander Taylor . . . I am Alexander . . . I am Alex . . . I am . . .”

His mouth continued to move but there was no more sound coming out. The pain was so bad that he hardly noticed when he fell back to the ground and curled himself into a ball. Darkness closed in around him once more. When he woke again all of this would be forgotten, but there would still be one question to answer.

Out of the darkness came light, and with the light came pain. The pain was terrible, but it seemed to be fading. He moved slowly, unsure of himself and unsure of everything around him. His eyes felt out of focus, and the small lights above him were dim and seemed to be winking off and on. He reached out for them, trying to touch them or capture them in his hand, but he could not. His pain wasn’t as bad when he put his arms down, and it was easier to breathe as well. For a long time, he stood looking up at the little lights, trying to remember what they were and why they were there, but he couldn’t remember.

Eventually he noticed that the strange little lights above him were going out and staying out, but things were becoming clearer. He looked around and faced a blindingly bright light that appeared from nowhere. It confused and comforted him at the same time. He struggled toward this new light, and it grew brighter as he moved. He thought he must be getting closer to the light, because it was getting warmer. Everything he could see had changed, from darkness to gray and then to brilliant colors. The colors all had names, but he couldn’t remember what they were.

Staggering forward, too weak and worn to worry about forgotten names, he watched the bright light climb into the sky. It was warm, and it would have filled him with hope, but he had forgotten what hope was. All that he knew was he had to keep moving, moving to where the light had come from. He tried to think of why he needed to move but there was no answer, there was only a desperate need to keep going.

As the light moved higher into the sky he stopped looking at it. He touched his side once, trying to force more air into his lungs. The searing pain forced him to his knees, and it was a long while before he could get up and move forward once more. He avoided touching his side as much as he could after that, holding his arm across his chest to prevent it bumping him and bringing back the pain.

As the bright light was sinking behind him he rested for a moment, looking into the bag he was carrying. It was empty, but he felt that there should be something there, if only he could remember what it was. This bag was important, but he couldn’t remember why. The bag didn’t matter. It was light enough to carry, and its straps helped him to keep his arm from bumping his side.

Times of darkness and light passed almost unnoticed. His only thought was to keep moving; moving to where the bright light had first appeared. The dark times were worse than when the bright light was above him. There were noises in the darkness, noises of things moving around him that he could not see. They were like ghosts in his mind, reminding him of things he had forgotten and could not remember.

Finally, after what felt like forever, he reached his end. Unable to struggle forward another step, he leaned against a large object that grew out of the ground. He was finished, and whatever force had driven him to move forward for so long was gone. There was nothing now, nothing but to sit and wait for darkness to cover him. Perhaps the darkness would take away his pain, and he could finally rest.