We stop a few miles down the road, and I'm glad this bathroom break doesn't bring with it any crazy, mind-melting visions. When I walk back outside, Brendan is leaning against his bike, two coffee cups in hand and I smile at the familiarity of this situation. It's how he won me over, not two months ago at school. Back then I was scared of my reaction to him, so I stayed away after that first meeting. He managed to bring my defenses down with a good cup of coffee and a discussion of slasher films. After that, it was easier to be around him, but not any less unnerving.

“You planning on explaining what happened?" I ask, taking the coffee out of his hands with a quick thanks. The fact that I'm this patient for answers kind of surprises me, but I'm not getting on that bike until I understand what that was. Brendan sees the defiance, smirking at me before he takes another sip of his coffee.

"Leshy is a forest troll who lures young women away by imitating voices of their loved ones,” he says, matter of fact, as if this is something I should've already known. Which means it's something I do know but, once again, can't remember.

"Why did it wait till the morning?"

"It might've found us at night, but you have to be awake and come willingly for the majyk to work."

"Okay then,” I reply, taking a swig from my own cup.

"That's it? No more questions?" Brendan asks when I don't comment further.

"I think I will be better off if I just accept everything at face value at this point,” I reply.

"How very mature of you." I glance at Brendan, finding him watching me with amusement.

“Oh, yeah. That’s me,” I say, my words dripping with sarcasm.

"Don't be grumpy." He bumps his shoulder against my own, and I grunt in response.

"Let's get a move on," I say, instead of saying the million things rushing through my mind. "I'm ready to be out of the cold."

We both look up at the sky at my words and it seems to grow even darker around us. The storms that have been plaguing the world are not letting up. It’s morning, but it looks like we’re in the middle of a dark night. The shadows send a chill up my spine.

It takes us about four hours to get to where we're going. When we pull up to the cabin in the middle of the woods, I'm intrigued. The place is run down and tiny, about the size of two outhouses, side by side. However, the moment I dismount the bike, I feel a power surge through the ground I step on.

"I'm not imagining things?" I ask, glancing over at Brendan, who once again is watching for my reaction.

"Not at all."

He leads me inside the cabin, and the moment we step in, I freeze because the place is ginormous.

The outside may look like a rotting mess, but the inside looks like a palace. Chuckling, Brendan tugs on my hand, leading me down the main hallway. It's a chore to take it all in at once. The different paintings that grace the walls, the expensive-looking furniture. It's like walking through a museum of arts. There is so much history in just one ancient doorknob we pass the historians would have a field day. Brendan reaches the door at the end of the hallway and motions me inside. Once I step in, the door shuts behind us and the room is plunged into darkness.

One by one, candle after candle, the room is lit up from one corner to the other. I watch the process, fascinated by the flick of the flame, as if someone is walking the perimeter, but I can't see anyone. A loud boom sounds through the room, vibrating the walls and I step back, running into Brendan.

"Who dares to enter the dungeon of the master?" A menacing voice shatters the darkness and suddenly a creature rises from the blackness of the room. He's built like an ox, with shoulders the size of a small car. His face is covered by a silver mask, the eyes aflame. The horns coming out of his helmet are about five feet tall, and I can see the fabric ripple around him as if a great wind is moving through the room. He seems to float over us, rising higher and higher. I reach for Brendan, and when my hand wraps around his forearm, I can feel his shoulders shake. Tearing my eyes from the sight in front of me, I stare at Brendan as he begins to laugh out loud.

"Chill, Maxwell. It's only me,” Brendan calls out. The room is flooded with light and a guy’s voice comes from the folds of the creature.

"Really, Brendan? You can't call and let a guy know you're coming?"

I blink and then a gorgeous guy materializes in front of me. He's about Brendan's height, putting him at least five inches taller than me. He's not as muscular as the costume he was wearing, but he is built. His eyes are the color of emeralds.

I turn to Brendan, pushing him back in anger. "How dare you let him scare me like that?" The other boy's eyes land on me, and he lets out a whoop. Next thing I know, I'm swallowed in the circle of his arms.

"Calista! I can't believe it's you. Where have you been? We've been looking for you for ages. You look as gorgeous as ever. I can't eve—“ The words are tumbling out of him fast enough that my juggled brain is having hard time following. He terrifies me, simply because he's another part of my past I don't remember.

"Maxwell."

The boy stops rambling at Brendan's serious tone, taking a step back. For the first time, he realizes that I don’t return the hug but stand frozen with a shocked look on my face. I'm trying to let the air back into my lungs, my palms sweaty. It's as if a memory is about to surface but then it's gone just as quickly as the feeling comes.

"Calista?" Maxwell asks, now a bit uncertain.

"Yep, that's me,” I manage, giving him a small smile as I try not to shake. The look of confusion shifts to Brendan and the other boy places a hand on my shoulder, moving me gently out of Maxwell's arms.

"That's pretty much the only thing she remembers."

I raise my hand in a tiny wave, feeling a little helpless. Maxwell is now staring at me like he's never seen me before, which is what I should be doing. Instead, I'm curious. He looks familiar and comforting, even while I can't place him in my memory.

"Umm, hi,” he finally manages, extending his hand. "I'm Maxwell."

"Nice to meet you." I smile, taking his hand. He looks sad for a moment then turns his attention to Brendan.

"Mind explaining to me what's going on?"

"I would if I knew."

"She has no idea who she is?"

"Not at all."

"So she doesn't know—“

"Hey!" I interrupt, waving my hands between the two, before placing them on my hips. "She is standing right here. Mind not talking about me like I'm invisible? I can hear you, you know."

"Well, at least we know it's definitely you.” Maxwell chuckles at my tone before turning on his heels and marching deeper into the room. I glance over at Brendan in question, but he just shrugs his shoulders. He's so infuriating with his secrecy. I shake my head and follow Maxwell.

"So, do you greet all your guests with such elaborate display of … tricks?” I call out at his retreating back.

"Majyk, my love. Elaborate majyk," Maxwell replies, moving items off the huge desk at the middle of the room. I'm a little thrown off by his use of the endearment, and so is Brendan, because I'm pretty sure he just growled. Suppressing a grin, I focus my attention on the boy in front of me.

"Why the elaborate majyk?"

"Because when people don't tell me they're coming, I am to assume the evil ones have found my lair and I must protect it." I’m not sure if he’s serious or not, and when he looks up, I realize he’s kidding. Sighing at my lack of amusement, he waves his hand around. “I felt someone finding the doorway the moment you stepped on land, but your energy was unfamiliar. I’d rather scare and ask questions later.”

“So the evil ones can’t find your lair?” I ask, suppressing a smile. He’s a bit grumpy about me not appreciating his majyk tricks, even I see that. He turns to me, the spark back in his gaze as he grins.

“They can. But there are certain wards in place for that kind of a thing. My theatrics are mostly for those who refuse to communicate and show up unannounced.” He glares at Brendan, but the other boy just shrugs it off with a grin.

There is no doubt these two are close—there’s a familiarity in their banter, a brotherhood that I can see without even really looking. For a second, there is a pang in my chest at the sight of them. I must've been part of this before. I just wish I could remember.

"What exactly is this place?" I ask, turning my attention to the stacks of books that seem to grow out of the ground. Some stacks are so high I'm not sure how they're staying upright. Although, I really should stop being surprised at anything at this point.

"This, love, is a library." I spin around, giving him a look saying "duh" and he laughs. "Okay, this is a magical library that holds the secrets of the universe and I am but a humble servant of the knowledge."

"A librarian,” Brendan comments, looking a bit bored as he crosses his arms in front of him.

"A historian, thank you very much." Maxwell shifts through the papers until finally picking one out. "Aha! As I've suspected." With that, he pivots and disappears deeper into the library without another word.

I turn to Brendan, wondering if we should follow. But he doesn't budge, he just continues to look around with indifferent amusement. Watching him for a second and not receiving any further directions, I grunt and disappear after Maxwell.

"Cal," Brendan calls out, but I don't stop. I hear him following as I try to navigate the maze in front of me. When he catches up, he grabs my hand, bringing me to a halt. "You should really let him be. Just wait till he figures out whatever he needs to figure out. His mind works in a different way, and if he thinks of something, he needs to catch that train of thought before it disappears." I move my arm away from his, ignoring the heat that spreads through my body at the simple touch.

"Well, maybe you should tell me these things instead of just standing there. If you've forgotten, I don't remember much on how normal proceedings go around here." I feel a different kind of fire in my body now as I stand glaring at Brendan. Suddenly, he grins, his whole face transforming, and I blink at the sight.

"Sorry, he was just making me crazy with his … Never mind." He shakes his head a little. "I'm glad to see that not everything has changed about you."

Whatever that means. I open my mouth to demand an explanation to his cryptic statement, but the next moment, his hand is running over the strands of hair that's falling in front of my shoulders. The touch is almost a reflex, as if he can't help himself, and I stand frozen, unsure of what to do. I can feel his caress in every part of my being, and my body shifts forward before I can help myself.

"Found it!" Maxwell exclaims, snapping us out of our fog. Brendan's hand drops, and he stumbles back, unreadable emotion on his face. The next moment, Maxwell rounds the corner, coming face to face with us, holding a book. A knowing smile lifts his face as he glances between us, but he doesn't comment. I kind of wish he did. Maybe he could give me a few pointers on what goes on in the mind of the mysterious, and ever-frustrating, Brendan Parnell.

"What did you find?" It's Brendan who asks because I have no ability for speech at the moment.

"There is a log book from the ancient times of people traveling to this realm." He flips through the pages in an old book, stopping to read from the entry. "Here. It speaks of the ‘forgetting’ when coming over. It has happened before, but not in this capacity. Usually, the traveler retains some memories of homeland, simply because majyk keeps it there."

"What about me? Why did I forget?" I feel like the answer is obvious when the boys share a look. "Guys?"

It's Brendan who answers, turning those gorgeous blue eyes on me.

"You forgot because someone wanted you to."

* * *

Someone wanted me to forget. I'm not sure how to deal with that statement.

The only thought racing through my mind is that I feel violated.

Memory is personal; it's the pieces of my life that make up who I am, and someone took that away from me. Brendan could tell the news didn't sit well with me because he asked Maxwell if we can go and clean up a little. The other boy didn't question, just led us out of the room and toward the bedrooms. They left me in a room that Maxwell said used to be my favorite, then disappeared down the hallway. This was over an hour ago.

I should be doing something productive like taking a shower or changing my clothes, but I'm too restless. I'm pretty sure I've paced this floor at least a hundred times by now. Nothing in my life makes sense, and I don't even know where to start to try and make sense of it. I wonder if anything in my life is even real. My family? I'll have to ask about them as soon as I can. Did they really perish in a boating accident? Am I really the only child? What about my high school friends, who I remember, but probably have never met. Which parts of my life are real and which are not?

Which parts of me are real?

I want to remember.

Remember.

Remember.

The word vibrates in the air around me and then there's pain.

I smash down onto my knees in the middle of the room; my chest feels like it's squeezing the breath out of me. I claw at my skin, pounding at the place where my heart is beating. I gasp, struggling to stay in control. There's nothing left in me but misery. I'm drowning in my own panic which is burning through my body like an antibiotic chasing away the fever. The door bursts open behind me and in the next moment, Brendan's arms are around me. I see his horrified face and then the darkness comes.

I'm walking through a grand hall, surrounded by people on every side. The faces around me are terrified, watching my progress across the room. Are they afraid of me? They should be.

I don't understand the thought, but it feels real.

I try to look around, to look down, but my gaze is fixed on the front of the room. I see two thrones, large gold seats, with intricate designs weaving in and out. There are people sitting on the thrones, and more are standing around them, but I can't tear my gaze away from the pattern.

I think of what needs to be done, of what it will take to win, and I smile.

Then, I'm ripped away.

I'm screaming—screaming so hard I can't seem to feel my body but for the excruciating pain. Breathing is almost impossible, the heaving sounds shattering the space around us. Brendan is holding me close. I can hear his voice calling out to me, soothing me. But all I feel is fire.

Fire.

Fire.

Fire.

I want out of my body, out of my skin. Brendan's hands are on my wrists, pushing my arms down as I try to rip the flesh from my bones. The darkness and agony are trying to pull me back in. Brendan is yelling my name, asking me to come back.

To come back to him.

Just as suddenly, my consciousness returns like an elastic snapping into place, and I realize there is someone else in the room with us. I'm not sure how I can feel him there, but I know Maxwell is by the door. My breathing slows, my body once again my own, and I turn my eyes to the boy hovering above me.

"Cal, you're back. You're okay,” Brendan whispers against my hair over and over again as he pulls me closer to his chest. I can feel his terror in the way his heart beats under my cheek and I don't want to move. I want to stay sheltered in his arms forever but, even without having all the facts laid out in front of me, I know it's not a reality I can live. It takes everything in me to pull away, and when I do, Brendan accepts it without a word.

"What was that?" Maxwell asks, breaking the silence that descends upon us. I turn to watch him step cautiously further into the room, studying me as if I'm one of his books.

"That was me remembering my past life. I assume,” I reply, getting to my feet.

"That looked more like an exorcism,” Maxwell says, moving his gaze from me to Brendan as we both stand.

It felt like one too, not that I'm admitting that out loud. I need them to leave so I can analyze the terror I saw on those peoples’ faces. And why they seemed to be afraid of me.

"Guys, I'm fine," I try to reassure them as much as myself. Even more so than the last time, my body feels like it's been run over by a truck. My muscles hurt and my head feels unreal. I don't think I'm half as convincing as I sound, and Brendan's next words confirm that.

"You are anything but fine."

I twist around to stare at Brendan. His voice comes out as more of a growl, maybe in accusation, or just plain frustration. I understand what he's feeling, but there's nothing I can do to soften the blow. I place my hand over his, and he jerks at the unexpected contact.

"I need you to leave," I say, keeping my voice low but firm. His eyes flash and he opens his mouth to argue, but I can't deal with this anymore. "Please."

It's that word that reaches him, or maybe it's the soft pressure on my hand, but he nods and heads for he door. Maxwell doesn't press the issue, and I'm thankful for his quiet support.

"Oh, Calista," he calls, stopping at the door while Brendan keeps on going, "this was your room when you were here before. There are clothes in the dresser and some of your essentials are in the bathroom. I should've mentioned it before."

"Thanks, Maxwell,” I say, and he disappears out of the room. I head for the bathroom, hoping that the water can wash away the ache building inside of me. There's a dread that comes with each memory and I can't ignore that any longer. What if who I was isn't who I want to be?