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She is old.
Older than time, perhaps. Not this body, but her mind feels as if she’s lived through a millennia on this planet, this Earth, two feet planted on the ground to keep steady, hair blown through wind, hands and eyes and all. And still, even with the millennia of hurt and pain and sorrow corroding her heart, it still aches with the passing of time.
But she has learned nothing if not that there is nothing to be done about the soreness in her chest or the tears that roll down her cheeks. And so, she lives on, waiting to see if she’s willing to change.
She’s not sure why exactly she picked this place for her home. She is surrounded by forest, stretching for days and days on end. Her simple, wooden cottage of a home sits in the center of a clearing, as it had been for the past century or so. She can’t quite remember how much time has passed.
But it’s alright, she supposes. This place is peaceful, a hidden paradise in what was the Kingdom of Fargheus, its seclusion offering her more than enough freedom to deliberate what exactly she will do with the rest of her life.
She hasn’t seen anyone besides herself in years, this place being her lonely yet oddly peaceful prison. The years had passed quickly once she had gotten used to her surroundings. Her former life as- what was she again? It didn’t matter, as time had snatched who she was and what she loved and threw it into the pits of hell, as it always had, as it always would.
Ah, but this was fair, wasn’t it? In her earlier years, a dear friend (a deity? A mother? Herself?) had granted her the power to weave and sew the fabric of time as she pleased, and she had abused that power if only to keep those she loved and those she had promised to protect from harm. But in turn, the flow of time had came and took them away, something she painfully could not undo.
Perhaps they had lived out their lives, after she had saved them, and perhaps they were remembered by their descendants. But the memories of those held dear to her had frayed around the edges, their faces faded, voices garbled, and names but a forgotten whisper on her tongue.
It was shameful, really, how much she had been degraded. She didn’t think about her past life often, but it was always in the back of her mind, shaming her, telling her how sad they would be (how sad they were) if they knew she was forgetting them. Her response was only that she was trying, and that this conversation (that wasn’t real) was her way of remembering.
(She reminded herself of someone she knew by doing this. She could not remember who it was, and she ached.)
Each day, to give herself something to do other than wallowing in despair, she made a goal to tend to the many flowers and shrubbery that thrive outside her cottage walls. Forget-me-nots on the plains, carnations in the hills, bluebells in the cracks around her home, ivy climbing up the walls. Soon, the Great Tree Moon would bring the buds out of their shells, and her world would explode with color. It was an event that would spark something within: was it a memory? Or was it just a feeling?
Today, just like any other day, she went out of her door, pitcher in hand. She knew the ivy wouldn’t need the water, so she sprinkles drops on every other flower. It’s reaching midday, the sun rising steadily over the small, rising hill in the distance, illuminating the small figure standing on top.
She blinks. And blinks again.
The silhouette looks like a person. People do not visit her. People do not know she exists. Why were they here?
Whoever the person was, they just stand there, casting their shadow long on the grass before them. Then, two other figures join them, combining into one large shadow pointing at her.
“Hey! Lady with the watering can!” The one on the right yells, voice high-pitched and… childish? The one in the middle elbows them and hisses something. The woman just stares at them, not knowing what to say or do. She hasn’t seen other people in a long time, nonetheless a group of children.
The trio run down the hill, small feet padding on the soft grass. It allows her to get a look at them: a small, blond haired boy with soft blue eyes, a pigtailed girl with brown hair and narrowed purple eyes, and a brown haired boy with curious green eyes and darker skin than the rest. They look so painfully familiar, yet today she doesn’t feel the ache as she might once have.
“Hello,” she greets, setting down the pitcher. “How… did you find this place?”
“We were exploring the forest,” the blond answers, eyes shifting guiltily anywhere but her own. “We got lost, and Khalid saw a path leading here so we followed it.”
“It looked interesting!” The boy to the right exclaims, supposedly named Khalid. “It’s not my fault you guys have no sense of direction.”
The girl groans, crossing her arms. “We’re sorry for intruding, miss.”
“It’s alright,” she says, smoothing out the wrinkles in her dress. “I haven’t had anyone visit in a while.”
“Really?” The other boy frowns. “That sounds a bit lonely.”
“Yes, I suppose it is,” the woman replies, closing her eyes. But it was what she deserved, wasn’t it? After all she’d done…
“Does anyone come by often?” Khalid, seemingly the curious one asks, looking around the garden surrounding her house. She shakes her head.
“Well, that’s no good!” The girl exclaims. “We’ll be your friends, then!” She grabs the woman’s hand and shakes it vigorously, much to her surprise.
“My name’s El, and that’s my brother Dima over there. You probably already figured out that’s Khalid,” the now named El introduced, pointing at everyone mentioned. “What’s your name?”
The woman pauses, unsure of what to say. She had almost forgot who she was, her name lost to time with the rest of her memories. But they have to call her something, she supposes. What could they say…?
(“Professor-“)
“I don’t have one right now,” she answers, much to the confusion of the children. But they look at each other and shrug, and smile at her anyways.
“Alright then, miss,” Khalid says, a cheery grin on his face, “you better have one when we come back!”
Come back?
“Yeah! So think about it, okay?” El turns back and gives the woman a wave. “We’ll be back soon!”
The three go back up the hill, but before they can disappear Dima turns around to wave as well.
“It was really nice to meet you!”
As they disappear into the forest, she starts to process what had just happened. The woman has not had an encounter like that in years. It was almost as if… yes, it was, wasn’t it? The second chance she thought she didn’t deserve. How ironic.
For the first time in what seemed like millennia, Byleth Eisner looks towards the sky and laughs.