Chapter Six - Something More Than Memory Waters

  Igniday, 9 Tamihr, Year of Folivor the Restful Sloth, 489 AWA

  Candibaru, Andovarra

  Monoffa's ears flattened slightly. "The... what? Oh, you mean what I said when I first saw you?" She looked genuinely puzzled. "Since losing my memories, I perceive things differently. People have... patterns around them. Emotions have colors, textures, tastes." She gestured vaguely at the air around Wenthe. "When you approached me, there were pink flower-like patterns swirling around you—that's your joy at finding me. But there's also this gray wolf-shape in your core—your worry, I think. Or maybe your hunger.”

  She sighed, running a hand through her dark fur. "The healers have no explanation. They said it might be related to wherever I was in the ocean. Have you heard of Memory Waters?"

  Wenthe's eyes widened. "Memory Waters? Those legendary patches of the Matalis Ocean that supposedly store memories? I thought those were just sailors' tales."

  "The druid who rescued me—Kere—she said certain parts of the ocean contain waters that absorb and store memories from those who touched them. People who immerse themselves might experience visions, sometimes from people long dead. She thinks I might have drifted into such waters after the shipwreck."

  Monoffa's ears drooped slightly. "Kere said I was barely conscious when they pulled me from the water. I kept muttering about 'the voices going silent' and 'the pattern breaking apart.' None of it made sense to them or to me." She pulled her knees to her chest. "The local temple tried divination spells to find out what happened, but they said something was... interfering. Blocking them."

  Wenthe leaned forward, fascinated despite her concern. “Memory Waters would explain why divination spells can't help you—your memories might not be gone, just... displaced or altered by these foreign memories." After a moment, she continued, tapping her chin thoughtfully, “But you don’t seem to have normal memory loss. Something in those waters must have done more than take your memories—it altered how your mind works.”

  Monoffa nodded. “Kere said there are specialized divers called 'memory swimmers' who train to navigate these psychically charged waters without losing their identities. She's trying to find one who might help me, who might understand what’s going on.”

  "How did we get separated?" Wenthe asked, setting aside her empty plate.

  Monoffa looked expectantly at Wenthe. "I was hoping you could tell me that part."

  "Right," Wenthe nodded, recalling that Monoffa wouldn't remember. "We'd just finished a job and returned to Takatari to catch a ship to Umeru—this continent. I was thinking about heading to Tamandre to tell my parents I'm alive, and you wanted to come meet them."

  She grimaced at the memory. "The ship we found wasn't exactly top-of-the-line, but the captain swore it was seaworthy. Five days in, we were attacked by a sea dragon. I ran to help fight the beast, but despite the severe wounding we gave it, it managed to destroy the ship."

  Wenthe's eyes grew distant. "I made it onto a jolly boat as the ship was sinking, but no one had seen you. We were at sea about a week before a trading ship picked us up and brought us to Afa Masina. I spent a couple of days recovering from my ordeal, then several more scrying on you to find your location, and I got distracted by this interesting side job that I did between scrying attempts. The locals said if you'd survived and weren’t in Afa Masina, you'd probably head to Candibaru. I've been searching for you since I arrived two days ago." She tilted her head, studying her friend with growing concern. "And what's this about losing your memories? You were perfectly fine on the ship—annoying as ever, in fact."

  "The last thing I remember is my name," Monoffa replied, her ears flattening. "Monoffa Nightstar. And something about a River Rock clan. Everything else is... fragments. Impressions. Emotions without context."

  Wenthe leaned forward, her analytical mind already cataloging symptoms. “Fascinating and terrifying. When did this start? What have the healers told you?"

  “The healers say I’m fine physically and there’s nothing else they can do. But as to when it started?” Monoffa shrugged, then pulled out her journal and flipped to the beginning. “Kere bought this for me the day she and Trident Man found me, and I wrote in it that night. The first entry is from three weeks ago. I don’t know about anything before that.”

  Wenthe raised an eyebrow. “Trident Man? Who’s that?”

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  Monoffa said, “The ranger Kere was with who helped rescue me. He carries a trident and looks like he belongs in the sea, so I call him Trident Man when I can’t remember his name, just like I call you Spice Fur because the color of your fur makes me think of spices. I call Kere Sea Beauty when I can’t remember her name. I can remember Spice Fur, Sea Beauty, and Trident Man even when I can’t remember real names. I don’t know why.”

  Wenthe noticed something else different about her friend. "Your fur has changed too, though that happened before the shipwreck. You took that ritual to connect with shadow energies about three months ago—went from calico to black practically overnight. You said it helped your sorcery, though you complained about being mistaken for bad luck embodied whenever we visited superstitious villages."

  Monoffa touched her face self-consciously. "I... changed my fur color on purpose?"

  "Called it your 'black cat transformation,'" Wenthe nodded. "You were quite proud of it, actually. Even started calling yourself the Shadow Weaver when we were trying to intimidate bandits."

  Wenthe fell silent for a moment, studying the strange, distant look in Monoffa's eyes. There was something not quite right there—something alien that hadn't been present before. She couldn't help but start forming hypotheses.

  "Speaking of which," she said, shifting topics with characteristic adaptability, "how are you set for money? I just topped up, but can always use more.”

  "I'm paid up on these rooms for another two days," Monoffa replied, "and I have a little money, though I can't afford anything big. You're welcome to stay with me, though you'll need to pay at least a partial fee."

  "I can manage that," Wenthe agreed. "But we'll need work soon. Any leads on jobs for adventurers?"

  “Kere’s parents helped me remember I’m a sorcerer, but I’ve been too afraid to try to find that kind of work, so I’ve just been helping out here at the inn,” admitted Monoffa. Her face suddenly lit up with excitement—a familiar expression that made Wenthe's heart ache with recognition. "But!" Monoffa exclaimed, flipping through the pages of her journal with characteristic enthusiasm.

  She muttered to herself, "Where is it? I know I wrote it down... ah!" She tapped a page triumphantly. "Trident Man told me about a combat competition called the Trials of Eight that's running for a few more days."

  She stuffed the journal back into her Haversack with more force than necessary, nearly toppling off the bed in her excitement. "He tried to get me to buy an entry for two during his time slot, but I didn't want to fight alongside a stranger." Her blue-grey eyes sparkled.

  "With you here, though, I'd be fine joining. We should hurry and register if we're going to do it!"

  Wenthe raised an eyebrow, intrigued by her friend's enthusiasm but also calculating the potential benefits. "So the prizes are gold?" she asked, always practical about financial matters.

  "And magic items!" Monoffa added with a grin that showed her fangs.

  "That could be useful," Wenthe said, mind already racing through possible combat strategies. "What's the entry fee?"

  "Fifty gold per person, from what I've heard. It's the talk of the city right now."

  Wenthe stood up, stretching like the feline she was. "Well then, let's go. We can sort out my room situation on the way." She offered Monoffa her hand. "Like old times—jumping into trouble together without knowing what's waiting for us."

  "Except I don't remember the old times," Monoffa pointed out, but took Wenthe's hand anyway.

  "Then we'll make new memories," Wenthe replied with a confident grin. "Better ones."

  As they descended the stairs, Wenthe noticed Monoffa tracing patterns in the air with her finger, following invisible currents that only she could perceive. There was definitely something more to her friend's condition than simple memory loss—something that went beyond even the Memory Waters explanation.

  Wenthe's alchemical training kicked in, analyzing the symptoms like she would a volatile compound. The black fur that Monoffa had voluntarily changed months ago through shadow magic, the strange synesthetic responses to emotions, the daily memory reset—it all seemed connected in ways that Wenthe couldn't yet decipher, but the pattern was there if she could just see it clearly enough.

  As she’d told Monoffa, Memory Waters didn’t explain Monoffa’s ability to see emotions as colors and textures. That ability suggested the wildshard-affected waters had done something more invasive—maybe rewired how her brain processed sensory information entirely—a disturbing thought.

  Wenthe frowned, her tail lashing thoughtfully. The timing bothered her too. Monoffa had been perfectly fine on the ship—annoying, enthusiastic, fully herself. Then the sea dragon attack, the shipwreck, and suddenly everything changed. What were the odds that Monoffa would drift into Memory Waters by pure chance? The Matalis Ocean was vast. Finding such waters accidentally seemed almost impossibly unlikely.

  Unless something about the shipwreck itself had carried her there. Sea dragons were known to inhabit specific territories—perhaps this one made its lair near Memory Waters? Or maybe the currents after the attack had pulled Monoffa in a specific direction? Wenthe made a mental note to find out exactly where the ship had gone down and compare it to any known maps of unusual phenomena in the Matalis Ocean.

  She filed the theory away for later investigation. Right now, keeping Monoffa functional and safe was more important than solving the mystery. But Wenthe would definitely be asking more questions about this druid Kere and what exactly she'd observed when she pulled Monoffa from the water. Maybe she’d even ask to meet this druid personally.

  Whatever secrets lay hidden in Monoffa's missing memories, they would face them together—starting with the mysterious Trials of Eight.

  Wenthe made a mental note to observe Monoffa closely during the Trials. If whatever affected her responded to combat or stress, the competition might reveal clues about the true nature of her condition. And if there was one thing Wenthe Quickclaws excelled at beyond alchemy and liberation, it was solving puzzles—especially when they involved someone she cared about.

  "By the way," she said casually as they reached the bottom of the stairs, "I'm going to need you to write down everything I told you in that journal of yours before you sleep tonight. I'd rather not have to repeat the whole 'we were enslaved together' conversation again tomorrow morning."

  "Good point," Monoffa agreed, her blue-grey eyes momentarily clear and focused. "The turquoise spirals of your friendship are too important to forget."