Unnamed

Wednesday, November 29, 2023. Two weeks after Phillip's and my three month absence from the present, which felt like less than a day to us. I was sitting cross legged on my bed internally screaming. Ever since I'd chased Phillip through time, my mind had been threatening to explode. Off and on headaches had been plaguing me, and they were not your run-of-the-mill sickness or stress caused brain bruises. These were sharp as a sword and overran every thought and sense.

Calypso had asked me about it a few days before, during one of our recent talks. "You look pale, tired, and stupid," she said. "What's up?"

I told her.

She wrote it off as a side effect of broken time traveling.

I wasn't so sure, but I didn't tell her that. If it were a side effect of broken time traveling, why was I the only one who had it? And how, oh how, did I make it stop?

The entire week I'd been setting aside time to investigate by diving into my mind. Yesterday, Tuesday, I'd discovered something. A presence. Something or someone was poking into my thoughts and memories. My private thoughts and memories!

Now then, back to me sitting on my bed. I'd just exited my head, but it had been a failed session. Nothing strange to report, except my strangeness of course. Suddenly I heard a muffled gong sound. The noise reverberated around in the hallway outside of my room. I stood up and stretched. Breakfast time.


When I entered the knights' dining hall breakfast was already in full swing, but I'd come late on purpose to avoid the daily hustle and bustle in the halls. I scanned for the face most familiar to me. He was sitting near the end of one of the long benches that sat on either side of each long table. There was just enough space to his right for one other person to sit at the very end of the bench. That person being me, of course.

I plopped down in the empty space. On the table in front of me was a bowl of cold gruel and a small chunk of bread.

"Hey," said Phillip. "Good morning to you too."

"Right," I said. I picked up the bread and used it as a spoon like the other people in the room.

The low hum of hundreds of voices filled the room. They'd be more boisterous during lunch, a meal I'd probably skip for the day.

Phillip nudged me with his elbow. "No 'Thanks for breakfast' either, huh."

"Huh?"

"Oh, come one. Do you know how hard it is to convince the kitchen staff to bring another bowl? It's a good thing they know how often you tend to oversleep. Or maybe I'm just their favorite." He shrugged.

"I doubt that," I muttered.

"Fine, crab apple... but... wait... pear...."

I frowned. "I told you not to call me that."

He closed his eyes and wrinkled his nose, grinning in that annoying "Whatcha gonna do about it?" way of his.

I ignored him and looked away.

"Well," he finally said, "I have city patrol duty today if you were interested in knowing."

"I assure you I was not."

Phillip grabbed his empty bowl and stood up. "Maybe your duty today should be going back to bed for a while. You're cranky... more so than usual." And with that remark, he left.

The boy who'd been sitting on the other side of Phillip was watching me curiously. This boy had a narrow face, scraggly mud-grey hair, and eyes of an equally ugly color.

I scowled at him. "I'll have you know that I got plenty of sleep last night and even woke up early!"

The boy looked more amused than confused by this outburst. He'd indubitably heard Phillip's and my entire conversation.

I abruptly got up and stormed away. Pig slop. The whole morning had been pure pig slop so far.


I stomped down the hall to Captain Hefley's office. Even though I myself was a captain, I had been getting sent on regular missions and patrols for the past two weeks. The other captains had set up that arrangement for the time being so I could catch up on the kingdom's happenings. In fact, some days they had me simply sit down and read reports and charts and all manner of boring things like that. I guess that's the punishment for unknowingly disappearing for three months.

I rapped tersely on Captain Hefley's door. He whipped it open

"Captain Peregrine," he said disapprovingly.

"Captain Hefley," I said boredly.

"Most knights collect their duties before the morning meal."

I smiled with sarcastic innocence. "Really? I hadn't noticed."

He pressed his lips into an angry line. "You get to guard the well today. Your partner is waiting by the southwest gate." Having delivered this information, Captain Hefley shut the door in my face.

I know he did it only to punctuate a point, because he always goes to oversee one of the training rooms after giving out all the orders for the day. I wondered how long he'd wait for me to leave before he turned right back around and left himself. I didn't care enough to find out though, so I went ahead and walked away.

I stopped by the armory to put on a lightweight suit of armor. It was a simple set, not the fancy type one would wear when going to war or on diplomatic journeys. I then left the building and trekked across the castle grounds. The southwest gate is on the complete opposite side from the knights' building, so yay.


When I got to the gate, who would be waiting for me but the eavesdropper from breakfast. He was holding the reins of two chestnut horses. He saluted when I approached.

"Captain Peregrine," he said with respect, quite the opposite from Captain Hefley.

"Sir Pig Slop," I groaned.

He gave me a quizzical look and shifted uncomfortably. "I'm sorry," he asked nervously, "what was that?"

"I don't know your name."

He looked very relieved at that fact for some reason. "I'm Bertram J--Bertram. I'm Bertram."

I didn't question his pause; I understand a thing or two about secret last names. I nodded. "Okay... can I have a horse now?"

"Oh!" He quickly handed me one of the horse's reins. "We're ready, Garth!" Bertram called up to the gate operator.

We mounted our steeds as the gate lowered over the castle moat, creating a drawbridge less than half the size of the main castle bridge. We spurred our horses across and started down a well-worn dirt road that winded to town. The gate and the path were used frequently by the knights and servants, so I was rather surprised that Bertram and I were the only ones on it.

Soon the castle was lost from view, blocked by the tall lush trees that covered the majority of the kingdom. Pig Slop and I rode in silence for a while until he dared to break the golden quiet.

"So... I don't mean to pry, but...."

Oh great, I thought, no one ever says that unless they plan to pry.

"You're the one who all the buzz has been about, right?" He plunged ahead without waiting for an answer, "What was that like? There are plenty of rumors about where you were, but they all agree that it only felt like a day to you. Is that true? How--"

"I'd answer you if you'd let me get a word in!" I interrupted.

"Sorry," he mumbled. It sounded genuine enough.

"First of all, it wasn't just me. Phillip Stone was gone, too, but no one wants to gossip about him apparently."

"I've heard plenty about him," Bertram said under his breath.

"Ehem!" I coughed. "As I was saying, it did only feel like a day to us... at least to me."

"So what was it like to come back and find out you'd been gone much longer? And--"

"Stop interrupting!" I snapped. "It wasn't the best experience of my life, okay? I missed my birthday...." I added quietly.

He didn't appear to know how to respond to that.

"And," I continued, "as for where we were... can't say."

He opened his mouth to say something.

I shook my head and cut him off, "Won't say."

Neither of us spoke another word the rest of the way to town. Arden was bustling with activity like always, and I saw several knights patrolling the streets. There was no sign of Phillip, however. He must have been elsewhere in the city.

Bertram and I weaved through the busy streets and eventually turned west, following a white cobble road. The road gradually rose uphill, and was populated with people and wagons bearing buckets. It was always like this, because this road led to the Fairy Spring, a well that was rumored to have been built and enchanted by fairies. That story was likely a load of pigeon poo, but it was pretty tasty water. The well was at the top of a low hill, and a beautiful pavilion was built around it. There was, of course, a well directly in Arden's city square, but many people deemed the trek to the Fairy Spring worth it for the crisp water and lovely view.

Among the knights, however, guarding the well was a dreaded duty. Why? Because it was boring. Plain boring. What do you get to do? Sit in the sun all day and watch people draw water. People became knights partly for guts and glory, and where's the glory in guarding a pit of water? I mean, I guess it's more about guarding the people visiting the water pit. I didn't care either way; I for one was glad for the boring, if slightly insulting, assignment of doing nothing all day.

Sir Pig Slop and I dismounted and tied our horses to a nearby post. We milled around a few steps away from the well, lazily examining the people who came and went. Actually, Bertram was pretty attentive. He had a good work ethic.

Nothing interesting happened until the sun had begun to dip low in the sky and the clouds got tinged with warm hues. A navy-blue clad figure came up the path and sat on one of the benches that faced back towards town. You could almost see the ocean from that bench... but anyway. The person was clearly a woman, but she had her face covered and a tight hood over her hair. The only feature visible was her eyes. I watched her closely for a while, but she just sat there, unmoving. The sun got lower and the sky got darker. The mystery girl was soon the only person left besides Bertram and me. It was annoying, because we would be able to finally leave if she would hurry up and leave.

As the first stars appeared in the sky, she stood up and walked over to the well and peered into its depths.

Bertram headed towards her. "Excuse me, ma'am, but it's not safe to be out here after dark."

I was too far away to hear her muffled response.

"Well," Bertram stuttered, "there's only so much I can do if--"

The girl put her left hand on his shoulder, her right hand moved to his chest. Something in her right hand glinted in the last rays of sunlight.

"Hey!" I yelled. I ran towards them, hand on the hilt of my sword.

The sun went down. All was dark. There a plinking sound of metal on metal and a bright flash suddenly illuminated Bertram and the girl. In that split second flash, I saw Sir Pig Slop slump to the ground. I drew my sword and leapt at the girl. She dodged with an adeptness that only comes from hours upon hours of practice. My sword came down on the polished edge of the well, and the clang echoed inside of it.

The girl wrapped her arms around my waist from behind and pulled me to the side. She used my momentum against me, spinning us around and throwing me on the ground. I rolled across the grassy hilltop into the leg of on of the stone benches. I used the bench to haul myself up. My sword was lying on the grass between me and the well. Suddenly, my attacker was back. She struck over and over again, jabbing me in any spot my armor didn't cover. She was so swift that there could have been ten people instead of just one. She jumped back after each strike, leaving me to whirl in circles as I tried to anticipate her next angle.

She was pushing me back to the well. I tripped over Bertram's limp body and fell against the well's edge. Bertram moaned. The girl put her hands on my shoulders. The world froze for a moment. My attacker's attire blended into the night's shadows, but not her eyes. Her eyes were a sharp blue, staring right into me. The emotion in them was unreadable. Time snapped back to its rightful speed. The girl pushed me, and then was gone.

I tipped backwards over the well's rim. I screamed. I was upside down, falling down. Trying to catch myself with a forcefield was pointless. The Fairy Spring had veins of silver in its walls. It was a talent-forbidden area. When all hope seemed lost, something latched onto my ankle. I craned my neck to look up.

Bertram's shaky voice drifted down to me, "Are you okay?"

"Pull me up!" I gasped.

"I'm trying!"

I could feel my foot slipping. Bertram would either lose his grip or get dragged with me. Why did I always have to be the hero? I wiggled and jerked, twisting my ankle out of his grip.

"Stop!" he shouted.

Too late, I thought.

I fell.

"Peregrine!"

I hit the water hard. The cold stabbed at me like one thousand daggers. It numbed me through and through, and everything went black.


I had the nightmare again.

The one about the storm?

Yes. Lie.

Do you remember what I told you last time, wee one?

Mhm.

You cannae let your dreams make you scared of reality.

I'm not afraid. Lie.

Then what're ye in bed for, silly? Get to work!

I opened my eyes. Everything was blurry. I was cold. I was standing in my bedroom. There was a thick mist lurking in the corners, tinging my vision with grey, everything grey. I walked out of the room. The hallway was bare. No other doors, only mine. Wrong, it was wrong. My foot steps made no noise. I stomped as hard as I could. No sound. I opened my mouth and screamed. Silence. No, not silence, whispers. In the mist. Shadows. I crept down the hall, to the stairs, down the stairs. Voices in the armory.

Say something.

I have nothing to say. Lie.

I know you better than that.

But maybe I don't know you well enough to know how you'll respond. Lie.

There's nothing you can say that will change how I look at you. At least you know that.

But....

Nothing.

Okay, well, I-- I--

I peeked in the doorway. The room was empty. I left the building. Outside there was lush grass of an impossibly perfect green. Flowers in every color of the rainbow dotted the hilltop, their fragrances blending into the most wonderful scent I'd ever smelled. Below the hilltop on all sides was a forest of leafy birch trees. They seemed taller than Tori's highest mountain, but not one reached higher than the hill, for the hill was one with the sky. And what a beautiful sky it was! So blue that it hurt to look at; such fluffy, pillow-y clouds; and so brilliant a sun that there was not a single shadow to be seen.

I felt out of place. Where was my ocean with its great rolling waves? My salt-soaked breeze to warm face and tickle my nose? A place for me to do my part and feel like I belonged?

Dry land held no charm for me. All of its mystery, all of its intrigue, was sitting on its surface. My ocean kept its secrets in its depths, calling to those who were brave enough to dive down and learn.

I turned around, searching for my ocean, and saw a grand tower rising up before me. If the hilltop touched the sky, then surely this tower touched the stars. Its walls were smooth, shiny ivory, and the room at the was blindingly white. I reached out and touched the ivory. It was warm from the sun, yet a chill seemed to seep from its inner bones. The section of wall I'd touched clicked and swung inwards like a door.

I put one foot across the threshold, but hesitated there. I turned to look back at the magnificent meadow I was leaving behind, but it was gone. Only mist remained. Mist and whispers. Whispers and shadows. I ran. Into the tower, up the stairs, curving, up, the stairs.

Waffles are my favorite! Lie.

I've never told anyone my last name. Lie.

I might have said I was Phillip's best friend, but I never said he was mine. Lie.

I reached the top. There was a door, plain white. I opened it. It was a bedroom. There was no mist here. It was just a plain white bedroom. A white bed, made up to perfection. A plain white wardrobe. A plain white desk with not a single item atop it. A cushiony white chair, too. There weren't any personal touches to be seen. It reminded me of my room. There was a window by the end of the bed. A girl stood by the window. She wore a long white dress and matched my height exactly. She had straight shimmery crimson red hair that was as long, if not longer, than mine.

"I know you," she said without turning around. Her voice was soft and monotone. It was soothing, yet ominous.

"I've seen your most treasure memories," she went on.

I took a step towards her.

"I've heard your deepest thoughts." She kept staring out the window.

I stood next to her and looked out as well. Outside was a black void. Down far below was a roiling mass of... memories. This was it. My ocean. A window into my soul.

The girl finally looked at me. I gasped. Her eyes were intense, perceptive, and a deep chocolate-brown.

"I know you," she said, "But who are you really?"


I woke up. I was bundled up in a million blankets on a soft bed. I sat up. The room was medium sized. There was a plush dark red rug on the floor and a fire crackling in a small fireplace. Next to the bed was a small table, a wooden stool, and a cushioned chair. Sunlight was streaming through a window behind the chair.

I was burning hot under all the blankets, but it wasn't as if anyone in the castle knew I had an internal heat source. At least someone had taken my armor off. I flicked my gaze to the door as it began to open. A tall man in a prim white coat entered the room. He saw me and his face brightened.

"Ah, good." He sounded pleasantly surprised. He leaned out of the doorway and said something to someone outside, then came to the bedside.

"Hi, Doc," I said. "How long was I out?"

He sat down on the stools and scratched his grey-flecked beard. "All night and most of the morning. How are you feeling?"

"Fine," I lied.

He nodded absently. "If the fight Bertram described is accurate, there's no doubt that you're a bit banged up; but, the blacking out was likely just from the shock of the cold, so after a day of rest I'm sure you'll be good to go."

There was a knock at the door. A young maid stood in the doorway, holding a tray laden with a steaming bowl and a small cup. The doctor waved her in. She set her tray on the table.

"Thank you, Sierra," said the doctor.

Sierra nodded politely at him and flashed a small smile at me before leaving. Doc handed me the bowl, prompting me to drink the warm broth.

"So," I prodded before complying, "How is Bertram?"

"No worse than you, dear, though more shaken. This is the most excitement he's had in his entire career." The doctor chuckled.

I set down my empty bowl.

Doc reached into his coat pocket. "I nearly forgot, someone asked me to give you this." He handed me a pale pink gem and smiled. "It seems quite special."

I closed my fist around the crystal. Refreshing, on the outside. "Thanks," I mumbled, turning towards the window to hide the heat creeping onto my face. I silently blamed it on the stifling temperature of the room.

"Well, take it easy today, get some more rest." He stood up and walked to the door. "Miss Sierra will be out here if you need anything."

"She doesn't need to—" I started, but he'd already shut the door. I gazed out the window again. I knew what had to be done. I settled back against the bed's pillows and, squeezing the heart-shaped gem, I slipped into my mind.


This time I appeared in the middle of the white bedroom. The eyeball thief was sitting in her desk chair, facing me; however, she wasn't looking at me. She was examining a shiny pink object in her hands. I marched forwards and snatched it from her.

She was unfazed. "I've never seen that one. I've only seen the hairpin that you carry everywhere. That pin must mean a lot to you."

"I only have it all the time because I have to." She didn't deserve the whole truth.

"I didn't know that."

I thought you said you'd seen all my memories," I snarled.

She laughed quietly. "Watching all of them would take your whole lifetime. I've only seen the most important ones." She pointed out the window.

I looked out. A white ball of fire hovered off in the distance. Shapes twirled and skipped inside it. I'd seen that fire before, but I still didn't understand.

I wheeled back around to face the girl. "What exactly is this place? And who are you?"

She looked me straight in the eyes as she spoke. Considering they were my eyes, it was slightly unnerving. "I am what you make of me. I suppose you can call me Imelda. That's what they named me, after all.

I frowned. "Who are 'they'?"

"This isn't about me."

"It is now, brain invader."

"Very well. Sit and I will explain."

I reluctantly sat on the bed.

Her eyes got a far off look in them. I wondered if mine ever looked like that. "I used to be one of the most powerful mind control-telepaths there was," she--Imelda said, "but then I fell ill. I was dying, but they offered me another chance. I was young and scared and foolish, so I accepted. They turned me into a science experiment--took my mind and left my body to rot."

"Who are 'they'?" I asked again.

She shook her head, her hair rippling with the motion. "That's not important anymore. Only what they did matters. They wanted to use me to make the world better--to make people better--as some type of twisted therapist. They put my mind in other people's bodies. Test subjects, to see if the human brain was capable of holding two consciousnesses. Like most experiments, the first tests failed. More than half of their subjects died. It nearly tore me apart every time.

"Eventually, they got it right. They could safely put me inside other people's minds. They intended me to be a comforting voice, for me to understand the person's past and guide them through the rough patches of life. No one would even notice I was there, I would just be a tiny whisper--that's what makes you special, Peregrine."

"Special how?" I interrupted.

Imelda smiled. "I'll get to that soon, I promise. Their experiment failed again," she went on. "I was too honest, pointing out people's flaws if they dared ask. It made me too obvious, because apparently most people don't like hearing the truth about themselves. 'They' tried to fix me, but their efforts were fruitless. The problem was just my personality, who I was. Soon after these failed alterations, their business began garnering suspicion. They hid me in the Time Hall's immersive books, and came by every once in a long while with a new idea. Each idea was another flop though. At this point there was hardly any me left. My mind had become a weak shell. I desperately wished I had never taken their deal, because I knew they would eventually abandon me for good."

Imelda paused to take a breath. Something kept me silent as she finished her tale. "Then you came along. You appeared in the book. Your mind was the strongest one I'd ever felt, so I--I stowed away. I wasn't sure if you'd ever be set free--they use those books for prisoners, you know--"

"I didn't know." I was honestly shocked.

"--but I couldn't pass up the chance. And now here I am."

I processed this information for a minute or two (or longer, I've never quite figured out how time passes in the brain). I'd heard crazier before. "Why were you asking who I really was?" I finally settled on asking.

"Look at you," she answered. "You're in your own head. And you've subconsciously created a corner for me. I've got a body here, a room, a true window to your mind. It's never been this clear, this easy, with anybody else. There's something about you... something you don't know about yourself. Something even I can't see, but I'd like to help you while I'm here."

I stood up and started pacing. "Help me how? No, wait, 'while you're here'? How long will you be here?"

Some of the color drained from her face. "I don't know. I shouldn't have done this to you. I hardly know anything about my predicament. I had no plan for after I escaped them."

"I can't help but agree with you!" I exclaimed. "I have enough problems without another person hiding in my head snooping on my thoughts!"

"I won't look at your thoughts anymore. You're right, those are private."

"How much do you know about me anyway?"

She gazed out the window. "Enough."

I could perfectly guess what that meant. In a burst of anger, I jolted myself out of my mind. It hurt, really bad. I usually had to go slow and steady on the way in and out. I bolted upright in the bed in the real world, clutching my throbbing head.

I'm sorry.... Imelda's voice whispered.

"Really?!" I shouted. "You're here too?"

A second or two later, the door flew open and Sierra's head popped into the room.

"I heard yelling," she said, sounding concerned. "Are you alright?"

I struggled to compose my voice. "Bad dream," I lied.

"Is there anything I can get for you?"

I looked down at my hand. My stiff fingers were still closed around the healing gem. "No... thank you."

Sierra left.

I sighed in frustration. Imelda was wrong. I knew all there was to know about myself; it was everybody else that had no clue who I really was.


Doc freed me that evening in time for dinner. There was a big crown around one of the tables. In a rare moment when my curiosity overcame my hunger, I elbowed my way into the center of the huddle.

"So there I was," Bertram was saying, "one hand holding her up in the well while sword fighting out attacker with the other. All the sudden, Peregrine slips from my grasp! I push my attacker back, knocking the weapon from his hand. But I turn to the well too late; Peregrine has already hit the water, and the mysterious soldier had taken the opportunity to flee--"

"I don't remember that part," I spoke up.

All eyes turned to me and widened.

Bertram paled. "Well, y--you were in the well," he stammered.

"Yeah, and I distinctly remember two hands on my ankle. Not to mention our attacker was no soldier of any kind."

Heads swiveled back to Sir Pig Slop.

He just stammered helplessly.

A large rough-looking boy scoffed at Bertram. "Nice going, Jones--"

So much for that secret.

"--now you really are just like your dad, a lying scoundrel."

"But--"

"Save it, kid," put in another knight.

The crowd broke apart, everyone mumbling about Bertram. None of them so much as glanced at me.

"What was that for?" Bertram fumed at me.

"Really?" I asked.

"I practically saved your life yesterday. I finally do something heroic to redeem myself in the face of my father's sullied name. Who cares if the details are a bit altered? It's close enough to the real story."

I laughed at him. "You think lying will make you a hero? Most people respect humble honestly more than falsehoods--no matter how the truth makes you look." What I hypocrite I was.

"We could have been friends," he spat. I can't even begin to guess what he hoped to accomplish with that threat. Though maybe it was just his way of asserting himself as my enemy.

I shook my head. "You are no friend of mine, Bertram Jones."


It's late December now. My "Captain" status is still under debate, Bertram has been avoiding me since the well incident, and people are still looking at Phillip and me strangely. I've heard the rumors. No doubt a certain someone has been adding embellishments to them. Of course Phillip and I haven't talked to each other about it. There's nothing to talk about. We know what really happened. It's not like we've talked about that either though.

Imelda's still here. And if she's to be believed, there's nothing I can do to get rid of her; however, she did stop listening to my thoughts. At least she keeps her word. I'm still uncomfortable with having someone else in my head, but I'm not sure she's even a person anymore... just a mind? Everything has been so confusing lately. Everything.

A few days ago, Imelda discovered that she had a slight influence over my powers. She can apparently enhance them or help me focus them. It has its benefits, but... I just don't know how I feel about her presence in general. It almost feels like I can never be alone anymore. She acts a little controlling sometimes. Maybe that's just her programming, but it still gets on my nerves. I do know one thing: one way or another, no matter how helpful she is, I can't live with her here for much longer.