Zach strained his eyes, staring back down the way they’d come, still trying to keep up with Noah’s pace. From this distance, he couldn’t make out much. The workers currently moving through the farm looked more like dark figures with a vaguely human shape. Their jutting lines suggested they were carrying different tools.

  “That’s it,” he noted out loud. “I just see shapes and movement.”

  “Good,” Noah said, still walking. “Remember this distance.”

  Noah thought they’d been walking for around fifty minutes now. Zach knew that, from this distance, when Noah looked back at the farmlands, he’d see only a vague hint of the leagues worth of grass, if that.

  “Keep trying to maintain it,” Noah added.

  Zach sighed softly. He’d been ignoring the headache behind his eye, but it was only getting worse. The change in light, in perspective, was difficult to comprehend while his body went further and further from the subject of his enhanced vision.

  “My head feels like it’s about to split open,” he complained, for all the world feeling like a child complaining to his teacher.

  “When I was first learning to Step, I was vomiting after every stop. Once or twice, I slammed myself straight into a wall, trying to Step onto my new marker—my spot. Training helped me learn that my brain needed a connection to the outside world.

  “If I’m indoors, an open window helps me connect to a new spot. I still don’t understand it. I know I travel through that small gap, but it doesn’t make sense that I can fit through a small space. You need to find the inner workings of your Creational Force.”

  Zach sighed, gritting his teeth against the stabbing pain. It was almost worse than the headaches he’d get when trying to access his memories. It was for sure different. This felt like a tree of pain had spread its roots in his eyes and was growing outward, pushing against all the nerves that connected his vision to his mind.

  He couldn’t go on anymore.

  He blinked his strain away, closing his eyes against the nauseating sensation that came with the change of aspect. The pain grew more intense, bringing him to his knees. He panted, using every bit of his willpower not to scream, to keep his eyes closed until he could stand without wanting to throw up this morning’s rations.

  “How long was that?” he asked, knowing Noah had timed him.

  “Barely over a minute,” Noah replied.

  Zach steeled himself against the disappointment in Noah’s tone. Only there wasn’t any. There was no judgment whatsoever. He’d been ready for it. Something about this, about disappointing his instructor during practice, felt eerily familiar.

  I was practicing something... Being taught...

  Maybe the headache wasn’t solely from the straining. He shook his head, and the memory seemed to fall away.

  “What?” Noah asked.

  Zach thought of saying it was nothing. Thought of saying the straining had drained him, but he already had enough guilt over not mentioning the fact that Cardinel had been a transmigrator as well. So, he went with the truth.

  “I just had… deja vu.”

  “From your own memory or Oliver’s?” Noah asked.

  Zach paused, studying Noah. “You know what that means?”

  “Know what what means?”

  “Deja vu?”

  “Of course, I do,” he said. “What made you think I wouldn’t?”

  Zach frowned, thinking of something he hadn’t even considered until now. Oliver’s memory told him there were many languages in this world. He recalled all those languages, Ospelia’s Coali, Amnia’s Paraki, Ardition’s Avag, not counting the dozens more spoken in Erosa. All of them were unique.

  However, they did bear a striking similarity to the languages back on his Earth. Noah understanding a French term like deja vu? Well, it was difficult to ignore the implications of that. He thought back to Cardinel’s journal and the frequent mention of the others.

  Did that mean they’d been so influential they’d had an impact on this world’s languages? He shivered at the scope of it all.

  He realized he hadn’t yet answered Noah’s question. A dangerous question that could expose the connection between this world and his. A part of him knew he was being overly cautious. But better cautious than have Noah think he’d deliberately come to this world through some connection with the Emerys.

  “I thought it was a word from my memories, and not Oliver’s,” he said, massaging his temples at the last remnants of the headache.

  “Before that?” Noah asked. “Were you remembering your memory, or Noah’s?”

  “I’m sure it was mine,” Zach said. “Something about training.”

  Noah nodded slowly, adjusting the strap on his shoulder. The bags were somewhat lighter now that the angals were gone. Zach could still feel the old clothes bulging out against his back where the animals had torn through.

  Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.

  “We have to keep walking,” Noah said. “We already lost some time. It would really be better if I could Step us there, but I don’t know how much time we’d gain. I’d rather have them think we’re slower than we actually are. Besides, it would be strange if we got there faster than we’re supposed to.”

  Zach looked straight ahead, testing if his nausea had passed. He took one step, then another, and was happy to find most of it had. What remained was manageable.

  “How does your memory work? What exactly do you remember?” Noah suddenly asked, voicing what had caused his frown. “I know you told me that with Oliver’s, you have to interact with something before you realize he knew it. I also know that his memories toward the end aren’t clear. But yours? Other than the wall, I mean.”

  Zach inhaled deeply. Compiling what he knew meant facing what he didn’t. It meant getting a better understanding of what parts of his life he was actively trying to forget.

  But Noah was waiting. He’d come to Noah for help getting back home. It was all well and fine that he fought against it in private, but how could he possibly tell him there were some things his mind didn’t seem to want to remember?

  “What can I remember?” he repeated, realizing he was trying to beat around the bush. “I remember my world. Languages, countries, continents. I remember important global events. Wars. Economical states. Technological and historical advancements. Global movements.”

  Zach saw a small light in Noah’s eyes. He’d ask about those things one day, for the pure sake of knowledge if nothing else.

  “I remember all of that, though, compared to Oliver, I seem to know more than the ordinary person would. I can’t remember why that is. My personal life is where it really starts blurring. I remember my name.” Zach frowned. “But I can’t remember my surname.”

  Once the realization settled in his mind, his worry grew even more. What if he did have something to do with Cardinel? No. No, I would’ve remembered something when I saw his name. At the very least, that wall would’ve reacted.

  “What else?” Noah asked.

  Zach shook his head. “I remember... that my mother’s dead. And that her death hit me really hard. I remember feeling... like I disappointed someone. Probably her, but I’m not sure.” He thought back to all the flashes of memory or feelings he’d had since awakening in this world.

  “I remember when I spoke to Oliver’s grandmother, I felt a deep hatred for my own. I remember... something about feeling hopeless. Hopeless and despair.” He could almost swear he felt his mind creeping away from this train of thought. He closed his eyes and pushed on.

  “I remember something about a white dress. There’s blood on it. Something about a mirror... and a-a dark room.”

  “There’s a lot to go by and nothing at the same time,” Noah remarked, but he sounded faraway.

  Zach imagined these thoughts as a long thread he was slowly unwinding through the darkness. He pulled at that thread, sensing something there, but not knowing its texture, not knowing its color or even how long it was.

  White dress. Blood. Mirror.

  He flexed his hand, swearing he could feel his fingers curled around an object. What was it? He thought he could smell dust and moldy dampness. But what was he holding? His fingers traced the object. It was small enough that he could hold it in one hand.

  What is this?

  It was hard and smooth, though there was a subtle graininess to it he couldn’t explain. He ran his thumb over it. He knew what it was…

  The wall slammed into place so firmly, he stumbled back. He grunted his frustration. Then he remembered what had happened this morning. In his mind, he glanced up at the black wall, standing defiantly.

  He’d done this before, where it had felt like running into a brick wall head-on. But like he’d told himself this morning, if he could push away memories, he could pull them in as well.

  Move!

  The wall didn’t react.

  “What’s happening?” Noah asked, his voice more distant than before.

  Move!

  The wall started bleeding. Oily blackness dripping off like melting candlewax. The spots where the blackness had fallen off were marred with silver cracks. As he watched, the cracks continued to form, sharp sounds like breaking glass.

  Whispers poured through like water leaking through a dam wall. He couldn’t stop the screams he let out then. Unfortunately, the whispers seemed drawn to it. They were quickly filling him up, an amalgamation of unintelligible words and sequences of numbers.

  Something struck the side of his jaw. He fell to the road, the wall gone and the whispers with it. He knew nothing but pain. His head, his jaw, his shoulder from where he’d smacked the paving. There were tears in his eyes, too.

  Noah was looking down at him, wearing one of the deepest frowns he’d seen yet.

  “Did you just punch me?” Zach asked, his eyes going to Noah’s balled-up fist.

  “You were a few seconds away from having a seizure,” Noah responded dryly. “What happened?”

  Zach pushed himself up to his feet, securing the bag on his shoulder. Looking at Noah as he stood there, one wouldn’t think he carried a punch that strong.

  “Are you slipping again?” Noah asked, taking a step closer.

  “No,” Zach answered hurriedly. “Do you remember that wall I told you about? I didn’t think it could happen, but it’s gotten stronger.”

  Remembering that they were being timed, they started walking again.

  “You can see it? Touch it?

  Zach nodded, but Noah had already moved on. “Have you thought about asking Oliver’s parents about what he was up to those last few weeks? Maybe there’s some overlap between the two of you?”

  “I did. All John said was that I was always quiet. Sticking to my journals, which are still missing.”

  Noah nodded, his frown suggesting his mind had already moved on to another problem. That was proven correct when he said, “Off the top of my head, there could be so many reasons for that. Your memory and the wall blocking it off, I mean. That wall is what’s most likely separating your mind from Oliver’s.”

  “I can feel my memories on the other side,” Zach said, confirming his theory.

  Noah nodded, his eyes trailing away in thought.

  “I wonder if this has to do with the Creational Force. Did it choose you, or did it choose Oliver? A physical wall... Did you have Theurgy in your world?”

  “There isn’t anything like that where I’m from.”

  “This wall sounds like something possible with Theurgy. But I’ve only heard of it in reference to blocking souls from interacting with their bodies. We discovered that in Ospelia, they use something similar on their children. To shield them from their senses in their youth.”

  Zach didn’t even know what to say to that. Fortunately, Noah went on voicing his thoughts as they came to him.

  “Lucas has some books we could use. I’ve been meaning to go through them, but I’ve been busy with other things. There was one—I wonder if he still has it.”

  Zach sighed softly. There was no way around it. He’d have to jot down every memory, every feeling that came to him, and try to find some connection to what was missing. No matter how much the unsettling feeling in his chest told him not to.

  The seventh interval interlude is also out now! Next chapter comes Thursday!