Do you choose who you are, or is it decided for you? I never got to figure that out, never even had the chance to think about it. Not a person, just... something less. Maybe this time, with no memories, I'll get to decide. Hopefully.
"Hey… hey, wake up. Come on." The voice reached him before the world did. Distant at first, muffled, like it was coming from underwater. Something shook his shoulder, gentle, but insistent.
"Wake up."
His eyes fluttered open. The rough forest floor pressed into his back, damp leaves and dirt clinging to his clothes. Sunlight filtered through the canopy above, fractured and shifting as the branches swayed. A dull, throbbing ache pulsed behind his eyes.
"Finally," a voice said nearby. "He's awake."
He turned his head slowly. A man crouched beside him, hand still hovering near his shoulder, like he wasn't sure if he should touch him again. Relief flickered across his face, mixed with uncertainty.
"Easy," the man said. "Don't jump up yet."
"What…" His throat burned when he spoke. "What's going on?"
The man let out a short breath and stood. "We were kinda hoping you'd tell us."
Blinking, he pushed himself upright, swaying slightly as the forest came into focus. Trees surrounded them on all sides, dense, unfamiliar, endless. Not far away, a girl stood with her arms crossed, watching him closely.
"You were out the longest," she said. "Thought you weren't gonna wake up."
He pressed his fingers to his temples, trying to push through the fog. Nothing came. No place. No names. No past. Just empty space where memories should've been.
His chest tightened.
"You remember anything?" the guy asked.
"Why?" he said. Then, quieter, "You don't."
The man frowned. "No idea." He hesitated, then added, "I don't even know who I am."
The girl's expression hardened. "None of us do."
He turned back to the man beside him, and froze. Something was wrong. Deeply wrong. The man stared at him too, eyes narrowing in the same slow realization. Their faces mirrored each other almost perfectly. Same structure. Same eyes. Same expression now etched with disbelief.
"You two look the same," the girl said, her voice uneven.
She stepped closer, circling them slightly, gaze flicking back and forth. "Yeah… identical. If it wasn't for the hair, and that scar, I wouldn't be able to tell you apart."
Neither of them spoke. They studied each other in silence, like looking into a reflection that didn't quite move right.
One of them stretched, rolling his shoulders. As his shirt lifted, something dark and sharp peeked out along his side, a tattoo, a blade twisted into a spiral.
"Wait," the other said quickly. "What's that?"
The man stiffened and glanced down. His expression shifted, confusion giving way to something tighter.
Instinctively, the other mirrored him, pulling up his own shirt. The same mark stared back.
"Looks like you both have it," the girl said quietly.
It wasn't just ink. The symbol was etched into their clothes too, woven into the fabric like it had always been there. Deliberate. Intentional.
"Think there's more?" one of them muttered, already shrugging off his jacket. He tossed it aside, where it caught on a low branch.
His body was a map of scars, old, layered, uneven. Cuts, burns, marks that spoke of violence without context. The other hesitated. Slowly, he removed his own jacket. His back was smooth. Unmarked. Untouched. The contrast was jarring.
On the scarred man's back, a name was inked in bold, jagged letters, Taiwo. The letters looked less written and more carved, as if they'd been burned into place alongside the wounds.
On the other's back, written in flowing, elegant script, was a different name, Tahir. The ink shimmered faintly, almost alive, standing out against flawless skin.
Taiwo stared. He reached back, fingers brushing the raised ink of his own name. His jaw tightened.
"Kinda strange," he said quietly.
Tahir said nothing. He ran a hand down his back, like he expected to feel something missing. When he spoke, his voice was distant.
"I guess we were soldiers."
Tahir shook his head. "Maybe."
The forest hummed around them, crickets, shifting leaves, distant birds. None of it felt welcoming.
"…Taiwo," the girl said slowly, testing the name. Then, "Tahir."
She glanced at herself, fingers brushing her arms, her back. Nothing.
"I don't have anything," she said. "No name. No mark."
Taiwo studied her for a moment, really looked. Then he looked away.
"We'll figure that out later."
She hesitated. "What should you call me?"
Tahir spoke before Taiwo could. "Tanisha." The name lingered.
She nodded. "Okay."
No one smiled. After a moment, Taiwo straightened. "Standing around isn't helping."
He took a step toward a narrow path cutting through the trees, then paused, glancing back at them.
"Stay close," he said. Not reassurance. Instruction.
They followed. The forest swallowed them as they moved, leaves crunching underfoot. None of them knew who they were. None of them knew what waited ahead. But whatever had marked them hadn't done it by accident.
And Taiwo could feel it, low and uneasy in his chest. This wasn't over. It hadn't even started yet.
As night fell, the three of them agreed to rest in the forest. Taiwo stretched against the cool, uneven ground, his back pressing into damp earth. The crescent moon cut pale lines through the canopy, swaying shadows across his face. His mind drifted in the haze of exhaustion.
A sharp, distant sound snapped him awake. A faint rustling, too rhythmic, too deliberate, cut through the quiet. The forest, once alive with nocturnal noises, now felt hollow, tense.
Taiwo sat up, muscles coiled. He scanned the darkness. Tanisha slept nearby, chest rising and falling steadily, unaware. Tahir was a few paces off, muttering something to himself.
Then he heard it. Voices. Low, questioning. Then a shout.
"Tahir! Taiwo! Where the hell are you?"
Taiwo froze. His instincts flared. These weren't friendly calls. He gestured sharply for them to move.
They ducked behind a fallen log. Taiwo's eyes darted across the trees. Shadows moved, barely visible. Figures, three of them, trailed them, silent except for the occasional muttered words and whispered curses.
Taiwo's gaze fell on their clothing. They weren't wearing anything like them, no matching jackets, no familiar scars. But then his chest tightened. The symbol… the same one that marked Taiwo and Tahir's jackets. The same tattoo etched into their own skin.
He felt it in his gut. This isn't coincidence.
"You see them?" Tahir whispered.
Taiwo shook his head. "Not yet. Wait. Don't breathe."
The figures shifted closer, their water powers making soft, sloshing sounds as they moved through the undergrowth. Taiwo's hands clenched. The only thought in his head: run.
The trio didn't notice them. Taiwo slowly eased his friends along a hidden path, keeping low. The figures paused, scanning the forest, murmuring to each other, unaware. The moonlight glinted off the symbol on one of their jackets.
Taiwo swallowed. His heart pounded. They could never catch them. Not tonight.
Minutes passed. The three pursuers finally gave up, muttering in frustration, and drifted back into the darkness. Taiwo waited a beat, listening until the forest fell silent again.
He exhaled slowly, tension leaving his body in a shudder. "We need to move. Now," he said quietly, voice sharp.
The forest seemed to close in around them as they disappeared along the narrow path, shadows swallowing their trail. Taiwo's hands were trembling, not from exertion, but from the certainty gnawing at his chest: they're here for us. And there's no telling how many more.
Taiwo led the way, moving quietly through the undergrowth. Tanisha and Tahir followed, each step measured, eyes darting toward every shifting shadow. The forest around them was still, the darkness pressing close.
Nothing moved in their path, but Taiwo's gut told him the danger hadn't passed. One look at the symbol on their pursuers' jackets, and he knew: they weren't done yet.
After hours of trudging through the dense woods, Taiwo, Tanisha, and Tahir reach the edge of a small, unnamed village nestled in a quiet valley. Smoke drifts lazily from chimneys, and the soft sounds of life, footsteps, animals, the creak of doors, make the place feel almost unreal after everything they've just endured.
Taiwo comes to a sudden halt, scanning the village with sharp, calculating eyes. "Stay here," he says, his voice low and commanding.
Tanisha opens her mouth. "Why… "
"There's food," Taiwo interrupts. "I'll get enough for all of us."
Tahir raises an eyebrow. "How?"
Taiwo glances at him, expression unreadable. "How do you think?"
Without another word, he slips down toward the village.
The village is calm, almost too calm. Taiwo moves through it like a shadow, keeping to the edges of the stalls and weaving between villagers. No one pays him any mind, though their eyes flick up briefly, curious but uninterested.
At a market stall, bread, fruit, and herbs are stacked neatly. Taiwo's stomach grumbles briefly, but he ignores it. He moves quickly, taking what they need: loaves of crusty bread, a handful of apples, a small bundle of herbs. His movements are precise and quiet, almost practiced. No one stops him; the merchant barely looks up.
"Hey! What are you doing?"
Taiwo freezes and spins, eyes narrowing. A girl about his age stands there, dark hair tied back, dress smudged with dirt. Curious, not afraid.
"Huh?" Taiwo says, feigning irritation. "None of your business."
"You shouldn't steal," she says softly. "It's not kind."
Taiwo takes a step toward her, voice sharp. "Leave me alone."
The girl doesn't back down. She moves to the stall, drops a handful of coins onto the table, and jogs to catch up.
"Hey! I'm Amara."
"Cool," Taiwo mutters without looking at her.
"Why'd you take it? You had a reason, right?"
Taiwo stops, glare hard enough to make her flinch. "Why are you all up in my face? It doesn't matter. It happened. Get over it."
"I believe everyone has good in them," she says, undeterred. "Even you."
"Well, people aren't," Taiwo mutters, turning slightly away. "They're selfish."
"You're helping someone, aren't you?"
Taiwo clenches his jaw. "None of your business."
"I could help," she says, stepping closer.
Taiwo reacts instantly, shoving her hand off his shoulder with enough force to make her stumble back. His eyes flash with warning. "Don't touch me."
Amara straightens, unafraid but surprised. "…Okay," she murmurs, taking a cautious step back.
Taiwo doesn't say anything else. He moves toward Tanisha and Tahir, who are waiting at the outskirts of the village.
Amara follows, her eyes wide, trying to read him. "You don't have to do everything alone," she says quietly.
Taiwo glances at her, expression flat. "You can't trust anyone."
She studies him for a long moment, then finally says, "Alright. But I'm watching. And I'll help if you let me."
Taiwo says nothing, adjusting the straps on his pack, and leads the way deeper into the village, moving as efficiently as he can. The bread and apples are tucked into his coat; the herbs, too. Survival first. Everything else can wait.
Later, Taiwo wakes to see Amara crouched beside a small animal caught in a snare. Its leg twitches, and it lets out a soft, frightened whine.
"What are you doing?" Taiwo asks, stepping closer.
"I'm helping this little one," she says, carefully freeing the creature and wrapping its leg with a scrap of cloth.
Taiwo crouches slightly, watching, voice flat. "You really think this matters? It's weak. Won't last out here."
Amara glances up at him, unbothered. "Every life matters, no matter how small."
"Hmph. Sounds like a waste of time," he mutters. "There are bigger things out there, things that actually matter."
She doesn't look away from the animal. "And what bigger things are you worried about?"
"That's none of your business," Taiwo says sharply, straightening.
"Sometimes," she says quietly, "all someone, or something, needs is a little help to find their strength."
Taiwo's eyes narrow. Her words press in on him like a weight he's tried to ignore. He doesn't turn to face her, but he feels her gaze, steady and probing, like a thorn under his skin.
"So this is what the Halita teach?" she asks, voice edged with suspicion. "Or is this just you?"
Taiwo freezes for a fraction of a second. His mind scrambles, but he can't, or won't, answer.
"What are the Halita?" he finally asks, voice distant and flat, though there's weight behind it that she might not catch.
Her brows furrow. "You are one, right? You and Tahir, both in soldier uniforms."
"I'm not anyone's soldier," he mutters, voice low. "I don't belong to the Halita."
Amara studies him for a long moment, curiosity mingling with something softer, perhaps understanding. She glances at Tahir, watching the same guarded wariness mirrored in his eyes.
"Alright," she says, raising her hands in mock surrender. "I won't ask more. But don't think I won't keep wondering about you two."
Taiwo doesn't answer. He turns on his heel and moves back toward Tanisha and Tahir, his mind a storm of thoughts he isn't ready to untangle. The village feels almost too peaceful, too calm, and it only sharpens the sense of chaos he carries within. His past, his identity, they are shadows he isn't ready to face yet.
By morning, Taiwo and Tahir are ready to move, the forest quiet around them. The village behind them feels peaceful, almost unreal compared to the chaos they've left behind.
As they prepare to leave, Taiwo glances at Amara, his usual guarded expression in place. "Do you know where we should go next?"
Amara points east, toward the distant horizon. "There's a city not far from here. Head that way. But be careful, it's big, and not everyone there is as friendly as I am." She gives a small, teasing smile, though it carries a note of caution.
Taiwo nods once. "Thanks."
"Take care of yourselves," Amara says softly. "And Taiwo… remember, every life is worth saving."
His gaze hardens, but her words linger in his mind. For a fleeting moment, his usual cold exterior softens, then he turns and heads toward the path without another word.
The two of them walk in silence, the village shrinking behind them. Reaching the outskirts, Taiwo pauses and glances at Tahir. He reaches for his Halita jacket, the insignia still visible despite the dirt and wear.
"We leave all this behind," Taiwo mutters, pulling the jacket off and tossing it aside. "No soldiers. No missions. Just… normal people."
Tahir nods, peeling off his own jacket and letting it fall to the ground. "Normal people," he echoes, a quiet determination in his voice.
The jackets, once symbols of their past lives, now feel like burdens, weights they no longer carry. Taiwo doesn't look back, his focus on the horizon ahead.
"That should help," Taiwo mutters, adjusting his pack. "The city's big. No one will notice us."
Tahir gives a small nod. "We'll be fine," he says quietly.
They continue on, heading east toward the city. The sprawling urban landscape slowly comes into view, a place where anonymity is easy to find and blending into the crowd is simple. The city is big enough for them to vanish without a trace, and that's exactly what they need.
With each step, Taiwo's thoughts turn inward, already calculating their next moves. The city will be their sanctuary for now. They'll survive. They always do.