Salah gasped as he opened his eyes to darkness. I'm alive, he thought. Thoughts came slowly to him. It's dark, his brain finally registered the obvious. He lifted his hand and was surprised by how difficult that was to do. He heard his bones crack—in a good way— as he brushed his hands over an hard surface. 

What is this? Salah exhaled, and with wobbling muscles pushed at the stone wall. Pausing for a few moments to catch his breath before managing to topple the stone over the side. Rolling out of what he was certain was a tomb definitely wasn't easy. Babies make rolling look easy. 

Salah frowned or tried to. He took a deep breath and braced himself for agony as he placed his palms on the floor to sit upright. Bones snapped and cracked like woods in a fireplace. He winced and let out a whine, then waited a few gracious breaths before attempting to stand. Go slowly, he thought slowly. 

He braced himself on one knee, before rising from a crouch as slowly as he dared. His back cracked so loudly he feared he broke his spine.

He groaned out loud, daring his bones and trying to take small stretches. He nodded and took a step that almost had him falling face first. He stopped himself on time. 

I can't even walk fast, he thought angrily.

Moments later he walked slowly out of what looked like an abandoned tomb hall. The walls were either broken or outgrown with weeds. 

Salah was alive and that felt good. And... And what in Vanity's blistered backside is that noise? Salah came out of the temple. Oblivious to the fact that he was bare as he was on the day of his birth. Hands on hips and head tilted at a whole juggernaut of strangeness. 

The sky was still blue, of course. The clothes looked different but he had to admit they looked good. For some reason, carriages were now common and not a single palanquin in sight. Salah was sure there was much of it he hadn't seen yet. 

Dark plumes of smoke on the horizon. The briny scent on the air meant he must be close to sea which meant… memory was foggy. How did I get here? 

He caught a glare from a passerby. It was then he noticed that the crowd gave him a wide berth. Some threw bewildered stares at him and he returned a flat one. That's right, he thought. Mind your business. 

A red faced mother struggled between blushing and glaring as she wrapped her hand around her child's eyes. Then it clicked. Bloody gracious! He was naked. 

He clutched his nutz and crouched back into the temple's shade. Head swaying in every direction, he caught sight of a man pointing in his direction. He had no idea what the men were. But if their dressing —which he felt was a uniform— was any indication, they had to be guards or a policing force. He scurried from the temple's porch. 

Salah tried to hide while stealing quick glances over his shoulder. But a nude man was hardly inconspicuous. I'm a bloody fool. 

He cursed softly as he ran into a dead end alley. It was in moments like this, he cursed his ability. No time to blame Virtue. He scrambled with tired fingers and scaled the wall, dropping into the garden of what he assumed was a well to do family on his butt. Them butt cheeks could handle a little ache and bruise. Yes, butt cheeks. He had lodged in a private inn not far from the port. What happened after?

Thankfully, no one saw him except their mad parrot. He shushed at it and sneaked around for clothes. He found the line and made do with his size. 

As he was shrugging into a brown long sleeve lace up shirt and black trousers, a girl of about his age walked right into him. She was quite pretty with freckles. She opened her mouth and he leapt for her. He had a hand over her mouth and placed a hand behind her head. 

He was just about to be impressed with himself when the girl's head bumped his hand against the wall. Salah's lips pursed to a line as he ignored the flash of pain. 

"I mean no harm," he said, waiting for her slow nod before removing his hand from her mouth. 

"I'm not a thief," he repeated. 

"Then… then what are you doing in my yard?" 

"I stumbled upon it by chance. Some men were after me." 

"You were mugged, during the day?" She asked skeptically. 

Salah stepped away from her, still alert in case she tried anything funny. "Is that so hard to believe?" 

She shook her head. 

Salah cleared his throat. "I— I hope you don't mind me leaving through … " His stomach protested loudly. He blinked at the girl and she laughed. A song in itself. 

"I think you need something to eat." She sauntered towards the door. She glanced over her shoulder and admonished him. "Are you coming?" 

He found himself dumbfounded. Whether from hunger or the girl's naivety, he never knew. You don't have to ask me twice.

Salah sat at a polished table in the kitchen. He stared blankly at the green slob of shit in his plate. Even the food went crazy. Is that lettuce? 

"You're not eating," a melodious voice noted. 

His gaze flickered to the girl opposite him. She had a smile on her lips. He focused on her aura, expecting a bright halo but got a low halo that grew just a tad brighter. At least he hadn't lost his powers. The girl wasn't a Sinister. 

"Oh…" he said when he found his voice.

You're in a strange world and no idea where the others might be. Virtue help him but he'd just remembered that he had siblings. 

"The food just looks strange is all." 

She arched a curious eyebrow at him. "You're not from around here, are you?" 

He scooped with his spoon and brought the green slob to his mouth. He blinked in amazement. It was actually good. 

"You could say that." He answered with a mouthful. 

After more spoonfuls, he decided to steer in another direction. The only one that should matter. "Say what day is it?" 

Brown eyes studied him before answering. "First of Vanity." 

At least nothing happened to the dates. "Year?" 

"Five hundred and one." 

Salah frowned. He couldn't have been asleep for that long. This calendar system had to be a new one. "How many years from Capeman's War is that?" 

"Uh… your questions are of a curious nature." 

"Humor me." 

She scoffed. "That should be about a century now. Along with Virtue's cleansing of Sinisters. Supposed myths and folktales." 

A Sinister is sitting right in front of you and cleansing of what?! And I've been asleep for a hundred years! And yet he didn't feel older or wiser. The girl opposite him might know more about the world than him. 

"…has there been… like uh, reports, news about strange people? Powers?" 

She smiled mischievously at him. "There has  been strange occurrences. Here." She passed a broad paper to him. "It's a newspaper." 

That's a lot of words, Salah noted mentally. Writing hadn't changed by much. 

"The headline is that for the last six months people have been appearing in places they shouldn't have been. The lords and ministers are dismissing it as an act by our enemies to instigate internal panic," she leaned forward, her next words came in a whisper as though they weren't alone, "others are whispering that they are Sinisters return from the dead. Fool talk." 

Salah scanned through the paper and felt a more pressing need to get home. His spoon clacked on an empty plate. That was fast. The girl… bloody gracious. 

"What's your name?" 

She didn't answer immediately. She passed him a glass of water. "Grace. It's Grace." Isn't that funny? 

"Thank you, Grace. For all this. You've been too kind. I hate to sound ungrateful but I'm afraid I'll need that hospitality for one more thing." 

She tilted her head as if to say 'go on'.

"I need a quill and paper." 

She arched an eyebrow but said nothing. Moments later she arrived with what wasn't a quill and a sheet of paper. 

"It's a pen." She said as she handed it to him. "It's better than a quill." He nodded thanks. 

He sketched on the paper. Grace leaned over behind him, watching curiously as he sketched. He pushed the sketch to her. 

"Not bad. Your sketch of the Antiquen." 

The Anti-what? 

"You know the mansion?" He asked expectantly. 

"Of course. Everyone does. I'm in—" 

He cut her off. "Where? Where is it?" 

She blinked at his tone. He held up his hands and didn't miss her subtle glare. "The mansion is the crown of Valdrell. Been sitting there for a hundred years," she continued softly. "Are you headed there?" 

Salah nodded. "It's quite urgent." His body itched with excitement and anxiety. 

"Oh… okay." She sounded… dare he say disappointed? "I should see you out then." 

He followed as she led him through tapestried corridors to the main doors of her empty mansion. She can't be living alone. Where are her servants? 

"You didn't tell me your name." She said when they got to the door.

"It's Salah. Call me Sal." He tipped his head at her. "Thank you. Grace." She nodded with a smile as she quietly shut the door.  

The courtyard was a beautiful place. Flowerpots were lined by the steel railing fence. He heaved himself over it not bothering to find the opening. Lots of climbing today.

Apparently Grace's family picked just then as the time to return home. They were a small army. Several carriages stopped by the curb.

"Oi," a stout man shouted at him. "Who the blob are you?! Get him!" Men who looked like the size of small buildings and would probably weigh as much scrambled for him. Salah wanted to explain himself but his legs worked faster than his mouth. The men raised what he assumed were weapons at him. New bows? 

He was corrected by a cracking sound in the air. He ducked—knowing it might not make a difference but did it anyway— to see a gaping hole in the pavement. His brows rose in surprise. They have weapons that can do this now?

He scuttered ahead like a stray cat away from the fangs of the wild dogs. I'm a bloody Sinister. They should be running away from me. 

He lost them eventually. Salah had his hands on his knee, taking large gulps of air. Thank Virtue he had run south, else he would have lost his mind. 

The city had no gates. Traffic went down as he ventured farther away from the city. He caught a glimpse of the metallic beast that made a rhythmic sound as it moved real fast, breathing out a trailing tail of white smoke.

Marvelling at what he supposed was a wonder in this time. Or rather, a common thing. 

Salah walked under the orange sun to his location. It was a sight. The plain open fields. Symphony was just across the river. Salah let his fingers brush against the tall grasses.

How I've missed you. All this talk of cleansing, what really happened that day?

The mansion would feel his need and teleport here to meet him. He waited impatiently for it to appear. 

Minutes went by and Salah sat on a small clearing to realize with dismay that the mansion might have been affected by this so-called cleansing or slumber.

And there, alone with nowhere to go, Salah had too much time to think of how he was going to get to Valdrell.

Alright alright ---------- Fun Fact as promised.

In this chapter there are two characters mentioned who you probably didn't know were characters or you knew but obviously didn't know who they were.

They are Virtue and Vanity.

In Ethern, Virtue is believed to be the creator of all good things —at least those who live in the main continent do —the sun, sky, oceans, green life. Priests describe him as the embodiment of good—ness and virtues. No pun intended!