The first time he was destroyed, he howled in pain as his wispy bck essence split from him in waves, as he desperately grabbed at his leaking self, trying to pull his body back together, trying to dey the inevitable — but to no avail. The girl before him, the one who’d originally thought he was her brother, gred at him with a stony face until there was nothing left.

  He lived.

  The second time he was destroyed, he had a feeling that he’d survive once again, even as little more than a spirit, but he had no way to be sure, no way to stop the fear spreading through his mind. It was unbecoming of a creature like him, but he couldn’t help but wonder if he would die this time. Still, he didn’t pray, not even as the girl before him, the devout one who always looked at him with a mixture of disgust and pity, dropped to her knees and prayed to the Abrahamic deity — Yahweh, right? — for forgiveness for killing a child. His st act this time around was to say she might as well pray to him.

  He lived.

  The third time he was destroyed, he barely felt the pain. Instead, he smiled and ughed. The girl before him, the merchant’s daughter who called him a demon (a more correct term would be nightmare), asked him what was so funny, and so he told her that she’d accomplished absolutely nothing — nothing but putting off the fall of humanity by half a century at most. Furious, she hit him once again, this time square in the jaw. He still didn’t feel much of anything.

  He lived.

  The cycle carried on. Girls came and went, taking on the title of Stardust and destroying him in his finest hour. For his part, he strategized, assessing each individual girl as well as what they all had in common. He fought with renewed vigor each time, gaining experience and skill. The centuries passed, the world changed, but he remained. He noticed gleefully that it was getting harder and harder for each new girl to destroy him. It wouldn’t be long now. Soon, he would win, and the humans would sleep forever, their nightmares warping the world around them.

  Instead, the girl before him — the st one — ended the cycle on her own terms.

  She was embracing him now, but it wasn’t just her — she was glowing with the light of every Stardust before her, their spirits as one, joining together to end this once and for all.

  For once, he wasn’t leaking nightmare energy, wasn’t fading away. He was wrapped in her arms, and she was destroying him in a way he’d never felt before. He screamed and thrashed, banging his little fists against her ribs in a feeble attempt to stop her. There was nothing else he could do.

  This girl, this absolutely insignificant coward who’d only been chosen out of what was clearly nepotism…

  Since when had she become so strong?

  The magic faded, his eyes smmed shut, and he fell from the sky, still locked in the st Stardust’s embrace.

  The nameless boy woke slowly, his senses gradually returning to him. First came touch — the feeling of prickly grass against his face. Next up was the smell of pollen and an odd aftertaste in his mouth that he couldn’t pce. Then he heard the voices, but for several seconds, he couldn’t understand what was being said — it was all just noise. As soon as he focused a little harder, though, the noises abruptly came together as intelligible words.

  “— checked about seven times at this point. No magic, no nightmare energy. I can’t sense a thing.”

  “There must be something you’re missing. Check again.”

  “For the eighth time? There’s no point; I’m not missing anything. Why don’t you check?”

  “You know I can’t.”

  “Then stop telling me what to do.”

  The voices were incessant, loud, annoying. The nameless boy let out a groan as he shifted onto his side, slowly opening his eyes.

  He appeared to be in some kind of clearing, a patch of mostly dead grass surrounded by looming trees with leaves of various shades of yellow and orange. The sun was rising, peeking through the tall trunks. It’d been a long night, hadn’t it? Of course, he had no way of knowing, but somehow, he could tell that this sunrise had been a long time coming.

  Turning and propping himself up on his elbows, the nameless boy finally got a good look at the two boys who’d been squabbling. One was tall and thin, with blond hair and a white jacket. He looked like an older teen, maybe nineteen or so. The other, younger boy had a much less normal appearance; his hair was pure white, and it fell past the middle of his back in a long braid. Perhaps he was fourteen, maybe fifteen, same as the exhausted-looking girl sitting behind him. The girl didn’t seem to be paying much attention to the argument, and there was a dazed look on her face — until she locked eyes with him.

  In less than a second, all three people went silent and turned to look at him. All of them wore different expressions: the girl only looked curious, the older boy looked down and wouldn’t meet his gaze, and the white-haired boy gred at him with open hostility.

  There was an awkward pause as the strangers stared at him hard, looking him over like a puzzle with only a few pieces left to be filled in. He couldn’t think of anything to say, and from the looks of it, neither could they. There were about a hundred questions buzzing around in the nameless boy’s head, and yet none of them felt very pressing, even in this situation. He was content to simply watch and wait.

  “His eyes are brown,” the girl said after what must’ve been at least a minute, breaking the silence.

  The nameless boy shifted again, moving to a sitting position. “They are?”

  It was impossible not to notice how all three of them flinched a little at his voice.

  “You’re talking about me, right?” he continued when no one answered.

  “Yeah.” The girl hesitantly stepped forward, and as she did so, the nameless boy caught a glimpse of someone lying on the ground behind her, though he couldn’t make much out. After digging around in her front pocket a bit, the girl pulled out a phone. She frowned slightly at the cracked screen, then shrugged and opened up the camera app. Setting the camera to selfie mode, she showed the screen to the nameless boy. “See? Your eyes have turned brown.”

  It was true. The screen mirrored him perfectly, from his neat bangs to the tiny gap between his two front teeth to his calm expression. And, of course, his brown eyes. Despite his ck of memory, he knew exactly how he was supposed to look. He knew the eyes were an outlier.

  “I didn’t always have brown eyes, did I?” he asked.

  The older boy came up next to the girl, then knelt until he was almost level with the nameless boy. His expression had softened, but he still wouldn’t look him in the eye. Gently, he asked, “What do you remember?”

  “Nothing,” the nameless boy replied.

  The older boy didn’t seem too surprised. “Nothing at all?”

  “Nothing.”

  “So you’re saying,” the white-haired boy began, not moving from his position close to the person on the ground, “that you don’t remember what happened up there? You can’t tell us —"

  The older boy cast a sharp look in the white-haired boy’s direction. “Shut up.”

  What did he do? the nameless boy wondered. What was he going to say?

  Well, he couldn’t bring himself to care all that much. Clearly, there was something that the older boy didn’t want him to hear, and frankly, he wasn’t sure if he wanted to hear it either.

  “Do you remember your name?” the girl asked, having stuffed her phone back into her pocket.

  “Of course not. I just said I don’t remember anything.” Honestly, this was getting a little annoying.

  “So you don’t remember us, either?”

  “No, I don’t,” the nameless boy said slowly, letting a bit of his irritation seep into his words.

  “My name is Maite,” the girl expined, putting a hand to her chest. She pointed at the older boy. “He’s Lucas, and —”

  “And I’m Sorin,” the white-haired boy interrupted. Looking closer, the nameless boy could see that Sorin’s still-somewhat-hostile eyes were bright orange, and something clicked.

  “Son of who?” the nameless boy asked, making Sorin cringe.

  “That’s none of your business,” Sorin snapped, gring at him. Clearly, he’d struck a nerve.

  “But don’t bauri introduce themselves patronymically?” he countered calmly. “You know, like, ‘I am Toma, son of Mihai.’”

  Sorin’s mouth opened and closed, but he said nothing.

  “I knew you were a baur by your appearance,” the nameless boy continued, “if that’s what you’re wondering. When your kind takes on human form, they always have white hair and orange eyes.”

  Sorin narrowed his eyes. “So you know all that, but you don’t know who you are, or why you’re here?”

  The nameless boy nodded. “Yeah, pretty much.”

  “Doesn’t that disturb you?”

  “Should it?” the nameless boy asked, shrugging.

  There was another awkward silence then. Maite looked down, biting her lip, while Sorin gred at nothing in particur, and Lucas just sighed. The nameless boy took this as an opportunity to get a closer look at whoever was lying unconscious on the ground. She appeared to be a girl with shoulder-length blonde hair the same color as Lucas’s, and she was wearing what the nameless boy supposed was once a nice blue dress that had since been stained with mud and maybe even blood. Now that he was thinking about it, everyone else’s clothing had the same sort of stains, but no one appeared to be injured.

  Perhaps she saved them, just like she saved me.

  Without really thinking about what he was doing, the nameless boy stood and began to walk towards the girl. He was only a few steps away when light fshed before him and he jerked backwards just in time to have a sword pointed directly at his throat.

  “Stay away from Ileana,” Sorin growled. In one hand, he held a glowing spectral sword, the signature weapon of bauri (when in human form, at least), and his other hand was clenched so tightly that it looked painful.

  “So that’s her name,” the nameless boy mused, voice still just as serene as it’d been when he’d first woken up. He looked up from the sword, up at Sorin, and expined, “She’s the one who saved me.”

  A look of intense confusion crossed Sorin’s face, and he lowered his sword, but just by an inch. Seconds ter, Lucas and Maite were there; Lucas pushed Sorin’s arms down, then held them against his sides in a firm grip, while Maite stepped between Sorin and the nameless boy, giving a disapproving look to the former.

  “I thought I told you not to do anything rash,” Lucas hissed into Sorin’s ear, “not until we have more information.”

  The nameless boy couldn’t help but wonder if he was supposed to have heard that.

  Sorin wriggled around, trying to escape Lucas’s grasp. “And since when did I take orders from you?”

  Meanwhile, Maite took the nameless boy by the hand and led him away from Sorin. She bent down, giving him a hesitant smile. “Sorry about that. Sorin can be a little…” Maite trailed off for a moment, then finished with, “Well, he cares a lot about Ileana. But really, are you okay?”

  “I’m fine. Why wouldn’t I be?” the nameless boy replied.

  “He just threatened you with a sword.”

  For the second time, the nameless boy shrugged. “He didn’t hurt me, though.”

  “Even so, having a sword pointed at your neck is pretty scary. If I were you, I’d be a bit shaken,” Maite said slowly, looking a bit weirded out.

  “Well, you’re not me. Can I see Ileana now?”

  Maite tilted her head, looking like she was thinking, and remained that way for a moment. Finally, she said, “Okay, sure. But she’s passed out, so be careful.”

  “What the hell are you doing?” Sorin shouted from several feet away, still being restrained by Lucas. “He could —”

  “He could what, Sorin?” Maite snapped, then sighed. “Sorry. Look, I know you’re worried, but you said it yourself: no magic, no nightmare energy. He can’t do anything.”

  Sorin still looked pretty angry, but he nodded ever so slightly and stopped moving, letting Lucas hold him. At the same time, Maite led the nameless boy to where Ileana y, giving Sorin and Lucas a wide berth as she did so.

  Ileana looked peaceful in this state, breathing evenly, her lips curled in a small smile. Did she know that she’d saved him? Was she proud of herself?

  “See, all that matters,” the nameless boy began, startling Maite, “is that she saved me. I don’t remember how, or why, but I know she saved me, and I don’t really care about remembering anything else.”

  Maite sighed, then smiled faintly. “I think that’s a good thing, and I think you’re right about her having saved you.”

  “Of course I’m right,” the nameless boy said with a tiny ugh.

  “But what are you going to do?” Lucas asked from close behind him, and the nameless boy turned to see that he and a somewhat calmer-looking Sorin had separated and were now standing nearby.

  “There are lots of things I can do. I could fly a kite, learn to ice skate, go to the library, find some people to py double Dutch with, eat cake… You know, a strawberry shortcake would be my top pick. I’m pretty sure I like strawberries. But I’m rambling, aren’t I?”

  Lucas chuckled, though he didn’t smile. “How did I know you’d say that?”

  “I don’t know. How did you know?”

  Lucas shook his head. “Anyway, what I meant to ask is what you’ll do without memories or parents. You need someone to look after you.”

  “Really? I think I can look after myself.”

  “You’re eight,” Lucas emphasized. “Pretty sure it’s illegal for a kid that young to live alone, much less get a job.”

  “Well, I —”

  “I think she’s waking up,” Sorin cut in, and everyone stopped talking and looked down at Ileana’s slowly stirring form.

  It took her a few minutes, but before long, Ileana was staring up at all of them, looking genuinely relieved.

  “You’re okay,” she whispered. “We made it.”

  The next several minutes were chaotic, to say the least. There was a flurry of motion from Maite, Lucas, and Sorin, with all three of them leaning in, cutting each other off to ask Ileana question after question — it was all a big headache, really, so the nameless boy backed away a bit. Unlike the others, Ileana hadn’t seemed surprised to see him, or his new brown eyes.

  Feeling awkward and a bit like an outsider, the nameless boy decided to listen instead of trying to come up with something to say. He stayed like that for what felt like hours, listening to everything Ileana’s companions asked, every expnation she gave. Some things were said in hushed whispers so quiet that even he couldn’t make anything out, but there were plenty of things he could hear perfectly well. From all this, he learned a few things. For one, Lucas was Ileana’s older cousin, and he had had some sort of power set before…whatever had just happened.

  According to the little snippets of conversation, Ileana had gone somewhere the others couldn’t reach — not that they were in a state to go anywhere, anyway — and so they’d stayed somewhere close to here for about an hour until there was some sort of burst of light in the sky. The light had beamed down to the ground, healing their injuries, and then Ileana had gently floated down from the sky, unconscious, with the nameless boy in her arms.

  “And there he is,” Maite finished, pointing at him over her shoulder using her thumb. “He doesn’t remember anything.”

  Again, Ileana didn’t look surprised. Instead, she called out, “Could you come a little closer?”

  Obediently, the nameless boy walked up to her, stopping close to her feet. She was still very weak and hadn’t managed to fully sit up yet, much less stand, but that didn’t matter. She would pull through. He knew it.

  “Hi,” he said, suddenly a bit nervous.

  Ileana smiled. “Hello. It’s nice to meet you.”

  “We’ve met before, though, haven’t we?” the nameless boy asked. “Somehow, I know you saved me. I mean, I said I don’t remember anything, and I’m not lying, but —”

  “No, I understand,” Ileana replied. “And you’re right. I did save you. It’s nice to meet the you that I saved.” Sticking out a shaky hand, she said, “Let’s start over. I’m Ileana Grace.”

  The nameless boy leaned over and shook her hand. “Hi, Ileana. I’m…”

  “That’s right,” Ileana said. “You still need a name.”

  Right, a name. He’d had one before, probably, but he was different now — saved by Ileana — and besides, he couldn’t remember his old name anyway. Furrowing his brow, he tried to think of a name, but came up with nothing. His mind was bnk when it came to names.

  “Could you give me a name?”

  It was a weird thing to ask, he knew. People gave each other nicknames all the time, but an actual name? That was something parents decided for their child, or someone decided for themself. Ileana wasn’t a parent, or even a friend. Still, she’d saved him, and he trusted her. Well, kind of.

  Ileana didn’t hesitate to reply. “Okay. Do you have any preferences?”

  The nameless boy shook his head. “None.”

  There was a brief silence as Ileana thought, and then her eyes lit up. “Olen.”

  “Olen?”

  “Yeah. I think my grandmother had a cssmate named Olen at one point, but honestly, I just like the sound of that name. I don’t know what it means, but I think it matches you, somehow,” Ileana expined. Frowning, she added, “Is that okay? If you don’t like it, I can think of something else.”

  “No, I like it,” Olen replied. “You’re right — it fits me.”

  He said the name to himself a few times, feeling it on his tongue, getting a sense for how it sounded when he spoke it. Olen, Olen, Olen. He couldn’t help but smile as he said his new name.

  He liked it. He really did.

  Looking back down at Ileana, he said, “Thank you.”

  Not just for the name, but for saving him. In her eyes, he could see she understood.

  “This life is a gift, Olen, but it’s also yours. Think of this as a new beginning. You can do whatever you want to do, be whoever you want to be.” Casting a stern look at the others, Ileana added, “Right, guys?”

  Maite nodded, smiling. “Of course.”

  “Just don’t do anything you think you’d regret ter,” Lucas said.

  “And more importantly, don’t do anything to make Ileana regret saving you,” Sorin muttered. Upon receiving gres from Maite and Ileana, he raised his hands in an I-surrender kind of gesture. “Just saying.”

  “I get it,” Olen said, still calm. “This is a new opportunity.”

  I won’t waste it.