The air in Merlin's cottage had shifted.
The protective enchantment Helios cast still hummed faintly in the floorboards, its magic lingering like static. Dust floated lazily in beams of moonlight cast through old, circular windows. The only sound in the house was the rhythmic ticking of an arcane timepiece on the wall — a pulse in an otherwise still world.
Then—
A breath.
Soft. Quiet.
She stirred.
The girl shifted beneath the blanket, the fabric rustling as her head turned slowly on the pillow. Her fingers flexed once, then again. Her chest rose sharply — the first startled inhale of someone not entirely sure they were supposed to be alive.
Her eyes fluttered open.
Her golden-brown eyes met the world — deeper and sharper than Pocahontas', edged with steel but shadowed by something distant, incomplete. She sat up slowly, her body tense and unsure, as though trying to remember how it worked.
She glanced around.
Wooden beams. Dusty curtains. Scrolls, books, and crystals.
Then her gaze snapped to the doorway—
Helios.
He had just returned, stepping in silently with the air of someone expecting stillness. But his blue eyes met hers — and found confusion, not panic.
Her lips parted.
"…Who are you?" she asked.
Her voice was soft. Cautious. But steady.
Helios raised a brow and smiled gently. "You're awake. That's good. I was worried you wouldn't wake up to eat."
She blinked, clearly unsure how to respond.
"This is a cottage. I live here," he said calmly, stepping further inside. "I found you unconscious outside. You're safe. For now."
She glanced toward the window — though she made no move to leave the bed.
"…Where is this?"
"This place is called Radiant Garden. A world that's recently fallen to ruin. But you don't need to worry about that. Not yet." He paused. "My name is Helios. What's yours?"
She didn't answer immediately.
Helios tilted his head. "Do you know yours?"
She looked down at her hands — opened and closed them, as if the answer might be written in her skin. For a long moment, she was quiet.
"…Alira," she said at last.
Helios smiled. "Alira. That suits you."
The name had come from nowhere. Or rather, from somewhere deeper than memory — a buried instinct, an echo within her hollow chest. The name had no history, but it fit like armor. It felt real.
He studied her posture.
She wasn't afraid of him. Suspicious, yes. Uncertain, of course. But not afraid. There was no instinct to defend or run. No questioning his presence. No demand to leave.
She trusts me, he thought. Even without knowing why.
He took a seat on the edge of a low stool nearby, resting his elbow on his knee. "You're not like most Nobodies," he said.
Her brow furrowed. "Nobodies?"
He nodded. "It's what's left. Some say it means you're nothing. But that's not too important right now."
She looked down again, a small crease forming in her forehead. "I don't feel like a nobody or nothing."
"You're not," Helios replied. "Not really anyways. You're a special exception. You were born from a heart that wasn't yours, sealed inside a body that didn't belong to you. You're the result of the two being separated."
Alira looked at him. "Who?"
Helios paused.
"…You wouldn't remember them," he said carefully. "And that's alright."
She didn't press. She just nodded once.
Helios observed her for a long moment. She had Pocahontas' presence — a calm rootedness, a quiet strength — but there was something disconnected about it. Like the roots didn't reach into memory, just into instinct.
She blinked slowly and looked toward the door.
"What's outside?"
"Darkness," Helios said simply. "And creatures that would see you unmade. You don't have the ability to protect yourself yet. If you go out now, they'll find you. And they won't stop."
Alira looked at him — and didn't argue.
He expected at least a question or two. Maybe a challenge or a demand.
But she simply nodded. "Then I'll stay."
She believes me. Just like that. He narrowed his eyes, thoughtful. There was a childlike naivety to her reactions — not foolishness, but newness. Like someone experiencing the world for the first time but with instinctive restraint. She understood danger, but didn't understand why. She accepted logic, but not emotion.
She was, in many ways, a blank slate. But not completely blank.
"Do you know what year it is?" he asked.
Alira frowned slightly. "…I think so."
She recited one — a guess — but it was ten years out of date.
Helios raised an eyebrow. "Interesting. Not completely uninformed, but… inconsistent."
She looked at him again. "Why do you care?"
"No reason I just wanted to know more about you is all."
Her gaze held his a moment longer before returning to the room. Her fingers slid over the blanket, pinching the fabric between her thumb and forefinger.
"…This place is warm."
"It's meant to be," Helios said. "This was my room once. Long ago."
She nodded quietly.
"You have questions," he said.
"I don't know what to ask."
"That's fair," he said, standing. "Then let me make something clear."
He walked to the doorway and turned back to face her.
"You don't have to understand everything right now. You don't have to remember anything. But you do need to listen. There are things in motion you can't fight alone. So until I give you the means to defend yourself—stay here. No matter what you hear. No matter what calls."
She nodded.
Not because she understood.
But because something in her heart — or whatever served as its replacement — trusted his voice.
Helios lingered in the doorway a moment longer, then turned and vanished down the hall.
Behind him, Alira sat in silence.
A Nobody without memories.
But not without its uses.