The road to the nearby city wound across a landscape that seemed half asleep. Pale fields unrolled beneath a quiet sky, touched only by the distant shimmer of the rising sun. Wendell walked with Lilian at his side, and behind them the rocky golem followed in a strangely rhythmic cadence. It studied them with the same quiet curiosity they directed at it, tilting its head as though comparing the two humans to some forgotten image embedded deep within its soul.
Wendell watched the uneven gait of the creature. Every step looked like its first, yet there was no clumsiness in its movement. Rather, each lift of its heavy foot seemed a deliberate choice. The golem seemed to be enjoying the journey.
"Maybe he likes the dirt," Wendell murmured.
Lilian turned and nodded with certainty, almost amused. At some point she had begun walking backward, watching the creature with bright interest. "It makes no sense," she said. "Normal golems do not have preferences or quirks. This one seems to enjoy himself though."
A faint flicker crossed the creature's face, as if it understood her words, although the expression vanished quickly.
"You should name him," Lilian said, turning toward Wendell with a small smile. "It seems like something you should do, since he listens to you."
"Name him?" Wendell tried to brush the idea aside, but a memory surged forward, flooding his mind so suddenly he swayed in place. A single word rose to the surface, clear and heavy like a stone dropped into deep water.
"Melody?" he whispered.
As soon as he spoke the name, the golem staggered mid-step. Its relaxed, almost cheerful expression disappeared. For a moment its entire form froze, like the name had touched some hidden core within its body.
A gust of wind swept past them. A sound slipped through the air, faint yet sharp, like a single note plucked from a string. Then another followed. Wendell looked for the source, expecting a distant instrument or perhaps a breeze through reeds, but there was nothing around them except the empty road.
"Did you hear that, Lilian?" he asked.
She looked at him with mild confusion. "Do you mean the wind?"
He hesitated. "Never mind. Probably nothing."
But it had not felt like nothing. That faint collection of notes seeped into his bones in a way he could not explain.
They continued walking until the looming shape of the city came into view. At first Wendell mistook the towering structure for a mountain, a solid wall of stone stretching so high it almost blended with the sky. Only the distant flicker of firelight atop the structure revealed its true purpose. The city walls were titanic, rising like a fortress meant to withstand the fury of worlds long gone.
As they followed the wall, the air changed. A hum of distant life slipped through the immense stone barrier. Eventually they reached a shorter section, where a reinforced gate blocked their entry. Two guards stood before it, armored in metal Wendell did not recognize, their glaives forged from pale materials that glinted unnaturally in the morning light.
Yet neither guard reacted to the approaching trio. Their eyes slid past Wendell and the golem as if blinded. Lilian was the only one their gazes focused on, as though she were the sole person present.
Then it happened again. A whisper of melody, soft and haunting, threaded itself into Wendell's ears. It brushed against his mind like a hand pulling at the edge of awareness. The moment he turned toward it, the music faded, and the spell broke.
The guards jolted upright, startled by the sudden appearance of Wendell and the golem who were now fully visible.
"State your business, travelers. And golem," the guard on the right demanded.
Wendell leaned toward Lilian. "So the golem does not alarm people much?"
She whispered back, "Adventurers sometimes summon golems with enchanted satchels. People are used to it."
He nodded, though he felt a distinct dissonance in his chest. It had been a long time since he interacted with normal city life. Traditions had shifted. He had not been around to witness any of it.
He straightened his posture. "We are here for supplies," he said with more authority than he intended. The guards staggered in place. They seemed intimidated by him.
The next moment the guards signaled to someone at the top of the gate. The enormous doors groaned open, and the smell of warm stone, and street food rushed out to greet them. The morning sun crested the horizon, its light bending over the wasteland behind them and illuminating the city's entrance.
A cobblestone path stretched forward, paved with granite and strange minerals that shimmered in subtle patterns. The city beyond the gate pulsed with life. Sounds crashed together in a chaotic harmony: vendors shouting, footsteps echoing, creatures huffing, and countless voices layered over one another.
Creatures of all kinds filled the streets. Some Wendell recognized, others looked like they came from distant realms he had never heard of. A group of furred merchants walked briskly in one direction. Children with elongated ears darted between stalls. Mounted travelers urged their reptilian beasts through the crowd. The air was thick with the scents of spices, roasted foods, and fresh fruit. Wendell's stomach growled loudly.
"How long has it been since I ate?" he muttered.
Lilian heard him and laughed softly.
Once they stepped fully inside, the gate closed with a final, echoing thud. Lilian tapped his shoulder. "Do you have money?"
Wendell shook his head.
"Then that is our first task."
Wendell did not understand her plan, but he followed as she strode confidently deeper into the city. The golem trailed behind them, its presence causing the crowd to part unconsciously. People glanced at Lilian, but their eyes drifted away whenever Wendell or the golem stepped too close, as if an unseen instinct discouraged them from looking directly at the pair.
The deeper they went, the more the music's faint echo tickled the back of Wendell's mind. What had made that noise, he wondered. They passed through narrow alleys and looping streets. Some paths narrowed so tightly that the golem had to slow its pace, scraping lightly against stone walls that bore centuries of history.
Eventually they reached a small building trapped between two larger structures, almost forgotten in the shadows. A sign hung on the door with faded letters. Wendell could not read it, but Lilian studied it carefully.
"It says a lost bartender works here," she said. "Or used to. The rest is missing."
A chill crept up Wendell's spine. The words felt too familiar.
He looked at the small door, the single window above it, and the dim light flickering within. Something deep inside him stirred.
When he opened the door, the interior greeted them with near-darkness. Only a faint bulb flickered overhead, its weak glow bouncing off dusty tables. The air inside tasted of old wood, forgotten stories, and something else he could not name.
Then the rising sun peeked over the massive wall outside, its light slipping through the door and cutting across the room. The brightness spread slowly, revealing the bar in full detail.
Wendell's knees buckled.
The counter stood in the exact same shape he remembered. The stools sat in perfect intervals. The shelves behind the counter were lined with bottles of distorted, unfamiliar liquids. A single glass sat on the bar, polished to perfection, besides a single set of finger prints layered on top, untouched by time despite the decay everywhere else.
He knew this place.
He knew it far too well.
Wendell stared at the glass. Memories rushed him like a collapsing building. His breath thinned. His pulse roared in his ears.
"This is the same bar," he whispered. "The same one I was trapped in."
The walls seemed to vibrate around him as the truth cemented itself. The prison he lived in for the last decade was not a dungeon or cell. It was a perfect imitation of a place he trusted, a place tailored to his nature as a bartender. It fooled one of the sharpest minds in existence by never feeling like imprisonment at all. It drained his memories gently, severing connections to people he cared for. It made him believe his isolation was his own choice.
His hands trembled. Rage filled him, blooming from a place of deep betrayal. Yet beneath that anger lived sorrow, the kind that lingered after realizing a decade of life had been stolen without him noticing.
The golem stood silently at the doorway, unable to fit inside. Lilian remained near the threshold, watching Wendell with quiet concern.
Wendell inhaled sharply, forcing his mind to steady. "So that is how it was," he said. "A prison disguised as a home."
His anger rose again, pulsing like a second heartbeat. He felt it build in his chest, seeking release.
But then his many experiences, stacked like sediment across centuries, whispered reason into him. He understood the situation not through emotion, but through the echo of wisdom gained across many lifetimes worth of memories.
"That is a nice perk," he muttered.
Yet even with that clarity, he did not push away the pain. He welcomed it. He wanted to feel it. He wanted to let it settle in his bones so that he did not forget the cost of having his freedom stolen.
He was silent for a long moment. Then he reached out and touched the polished glass on the counter. The instant his fingers brushed its surface, the faint melody returned, swirling through his ears like a familiar voice.
And just like the many times before, Wendell began polishing the glass. His own glass this time. A glass he had drank from before his memories were erased.