It was always like that when he started wandering aimlessly: he got lost as soon as he got in an unknown place and didn't know how to get back to the place he was before. His sense of direction was so awful that one might wonder why he hadn't gotten into troubles yet, but the truth was that he always managed to find a way out of the bad situation he was in. Fate, a Greater Power, fortune—maybe these were his saviors. Yet Irial didn't believe in any of them and believed it was thanks to his sixth sense that he was still safe and sound.
When he realized he had gotten lost this time too, he had already entered a well-groomed garden. It seemed no one was around, but such a beautiful place couldn't be uninhabited, otherwise there wouldn't be so many blooming plants and bushes. What caught his attention, however, was the atmosphere of that place; it was familiar, similar to that he brought when he arrived in a new town—a strange mixture of darkness and false kindness. A step forward, a noise behind him—then he turned and found himself facing someone else. "Who are you?"