Chapter 1 of Sindeth: Reflection

“May the light of the suns guide you.”

My eyes snapped open at the sound of the voice. A massive gray-blue expanse stretched out unmarred before me. I was falling, falling, descending into its waiting maw. My hands desperately reached out for something to grab onto and closed on a grainy substance that would do little to help.

Cries of terror dissolved into exhausted panting with the realization that I was lying on the ground and not falling at all; the blue void above me was a clear sky. I released a breath of relief and allowed my eyes to close, chiding myself for my reaction. There was thunder in my ears, pounding in time with my racing heart, and each peal was accompanied by a throb of pain in my head. Wincing, I raised my hand to my temple, allowing the sand to fall from my grasp. The pressure from my fingers did little to alleviate the pain, and with a huff I dropped my hand.

Someone had been speaking the moment before, I was sure of it. There was a voice—but whose? I sat up with some difficulty, the sand beneath me shifting. I scanned my surroundings, but the only other creature within sight was a handsome brown horse standing a few paces away. It watched me from behind a pair of thick, black goggles.

“I don’t suppose you were the one who woke me, were you?” I asked.

The horse flipped its tail with a huff. Her hooves sank into the gray-yellow sand as she moved towards me. She lowered her head and nudged me with her dark nose. The show of affection was surprising, but I laughed as I rested a hand on her head and stroked her neck. The motion felt familiar, practiced. Comforting. Without thinking, I pressed my aching head to hers. A wave of joy washed through me at the touch.

“I think if you were the one talking to me, I’d have a lot more to worry about than a headache,” I sighed. The horse agreed with another huff.

The pain in my head began to fade, so I forced myself to pull away from the creature. I saw nothing but gray-yellow sand and the gray-blue sky. It appeared to be midday, and there was not a single wisp of cloud in the sky, so why did everything look so strange and dark? I turned to pose the question to the horse and again faced her tinted goggles. I raised a hand to my own eyes and found them covered with a similar pair.

My base instinct was to tear the goggles from my head, but as my base instinct had also told me that I was falling into the sky a few minutes ago, I resisted the impulse. I turned my gaze cautiously skyward and discovered a pair of brilliant white suns just over the horizon.

“I suppose that answers that, doesn’t it, girl? The glare from the sand alone would make us blind. At least with all this light, we’ll have no problem seeing where we’re going!” Cold realization chased away my attempt at levity. “Wherever that is.”

Nothing about the sandy dunes that surrounded us looked familiar. There were no identifiable structures, no landmarks—just sand, stretching as far as the eyes could see. Apart from some half-sunken foot- and hoof-prints in the sand there were no signs of where we had come from. I let out a shaky breath and began to tremble.

“Uh…okay,” I whispered, my voice small and thin. “Where are we? Where…uh. Oh, oh no…”

I laid a hand on the horse’s flank as my breathing started to race again. I didn’t know where I was. I didn’t know where I was going. I didn’t know where I had come from. How did I get here? What was I doing? Who—

My eyes widened and I covered my mouth.

“Who am I?” I asked the horse. “I…I don’t know who I am. I…I don’t remember…”

The horse made no comment.

The thunder returned to my ears, my heart throbbing so violently that I thought it might break free from my chest. I combed my brain for answers, but all I could recall was a blank white mist. For each unanswered question, a dozen more sprang forth. Breathing became difficult; I was drowning in the middle of some vast desert, in a sea of the unknown.

“I…I can’t…” I panted, clutching at my chest with both hands. My eyes squeezed shut tight of their own accord, and I fell forwards into the sand with a whimper. Lights sparkled and danced behind my eyelids as my heart continued to rage.

“You have enough strength for this.”

The Voice had returned, whispering gently in my ear. I pushed myself up from the ground to find the speaker. Endless sand, endless sky, horse. There was nobody else.

“Who’s there?” I shouted, causing the horse to start. She whinnied and pawed the ground. “Tell me!”

I felt something brushing against my mind; it was a gentle touch that carried a sense of comfort, security. My breathing slowed and my heart calmed, so I lowered my hands from my chest. Why was I feeling this way? What was going on? And most importantly—

“Who are you?”

A soft laugh whispered through my head, both amused and sad. “I’m afraid it's a bit of a long story, my love,” the Voice replied, coming from everywhere and nowhere. “One that you will come to know, in time.”

A hallucination should have no reason to be so vague. “You might as well tell me now. It’s not like I have anything better to do before I die out here.”

“But you do,” countered the Voice. “You must cross this desert as soon as possible.”

I was taken aback by the bluntness of its tone. “Cross the desert?”

“Cross the desert,” the Voice reiterated patiently. “As soon as possible.”

“Yes, yes, I heard you.” A laugh brushed at the edge of my mind once again, and I shivered at the unsettling sensation. “Am I to assume that you aren’t going to tell me anything about who I am, or where I came from?”

“That is correct.”

I rolled my eyes, frustration overpowering my desperation.

“The answers you seek will be made clear in time,” the Voice continued. “To the north lies a small town called Sunspot. It is there your true journey will begin.”

“What makes this town so special?”

I got the impression that if the Voice had shoulders, it would be shrugging. “It will have food, water, and shelter for you. Is that not enough?”

“Food…?” I realized for the first time how hungry and thirsty I was. “How am I supposed to cross this desert without food or water?”

“Food, your horse can provide.”

“You want me to eat her?!” The horse looked at me nervously.

Another laugh. “You will find food in her bags.”

I sighed in relief. “Oh, good. And water, too?”

There was an uncomfortable pause as if the Voice were considering its next words. “Water you will find when you need it most.”

“You’re…certain?”

“I am certain,” the Voice replied more confidently. Regret washed over me. “My time runs short.”

Panic reawakened in my chest, threatening to overwhelm me. “No, please don’t go!” I pleaded, jumping to my feet and stumbling as the shifting sand gave way beneath me.

“I will never be far. That, I promise you,” the Voice replied. “Just stay close to Sindeth and you will be alright. She knows the way.”

“Sindeth?” At the word, my horse whinnied and pawed again. “Are you Sindeth?” She took a step closer and nudged me with her nose. The Voice had known the horse’s name. Maybe it was not imaginary after all?

“Why are you helping me?” I asked, stroking Sindeth’s face. “What is the point of all of this? Please tell me that, at least.”

“My love,” the Voice said. The simple words carried too complex an emotion behind them to easily identify. “Only you can make things right. So long as you draw breath, there is hope for the future.” The Voice’s touch receded, and I was left alone in my thoughts.

My discussion with the Voice had only raised more questions, but the Voice knew Sindeth’s name. Perhaps it was right about the other things it had spoken of as well? I turned the conversation over in my head. I had somehow ended up alone in this desert with only a horse and without any memory of who I was. Fear flared back up at the thought, but I smothered it before it could consume me. The Voice was not going to give me the answers I sought—but it had told me where I could start looking for them.

“C’mon, girl,” I said to Sindeth. “Let’s get moving.”

Sindeth huffed at me in agreement. The horse took the lead, walking in what I hoped was a northerly direction. I followed, chewing on the Voice’s parting words. Only I could make things right? I scoffed at the thought. I didn’t even know who I was. What made me so special?

If nothing else, I was determined to find out.