The worn oak soldier opened its eyes in a world unfamiliar, its surroundings covered in flowers it did not know. Its thoughts slowly crawled to it, in a language it could not recognise but understood all too well.
It shook its head, silencing its own mind as it looked down. A bird came to lay rest on its pale, limestone hand, fluttering away as quick as it came. It turned its head and glanced at a nearby puddle to see its own humanoid face stare back, with glowing green eyes and mossy curled hair. It echoed the thought in its head.
Hello.
There was no response. The soldier breathed. An odd lavender sensation flowed into its nostrils from below, almost as if it had grown out of the earth itself. It felt around itself, letting the uprooted nature wrap around its fingers and fall away once more.
The soldier did not know where it was, or why, but it sensed. A sense beyond senses. A sense that told it… to move.
It stood, breath steady and slow, the cold wind not serving to break its stride. A small series of raindrops fell from the grey, almost white, sky as the soldier began to move. Not even a whisper of life met its ears as it trudged on. After 24 strides, it stopped. It did not know why. The ground stared up at the soldier. It stared back. In simple fashion, the soldier kneeled, cast a single prayer to the earth and clawed into the dirt.
Whatever it sensed, it was only dust now.
The soldier stared on, the breeze striking its back aimlessly. It raised its right hand ever so slightly, before placing it atop Gaia's skin. A familiarity fell over its mind and a faint, fragmented, memory drew itself into view.
A hut. My home. Her. ██ ███████.
"███████!" She calls out. I place my staff down and walk out. There she stands, in that clearing next to my fellow druids.
"What's wrong?" I inquire, she is shaking.
"███—!" She is cut off by the tallest druid.
"███ romans ███ almost ██ ███ Menai Strait. We're out of time." As he speaks the words, I stare at my wise mentor in shock.
"Then what are we supposed to do?" I am flabbergasted. My words hastier than usual. The shortest druid, my closest friend, steps out.
"██ ███ ensure ███ future." He places a hand on my upper arm. The third druid steps forward, a grimoire all too familiar to me in his firm hand.
"█████ ███ ████ █ ████, ████ ███ roman rule ██ ██ ███ weak███, ████ ███ land needs saving ███ ████. ███ ████ protect ███ people. ███ ████ █████ salvation." His words confuse me.
"███ Iorwerth, how ███ ██ ██████ ████ █ ████?" ████ ██████ ██ █████████ ███ ████ ██ ██, ███ tallest clears ███ throat.
"██ ████ cast █ ritual ██ ███ highest peak of Ynys Môn, █████ ███ ██ ███ mystical leylines coalesce." ███ ███ points ██ █ direction I know ███ ███ well. █ ███████ ███ ███'█ ██████ ██ ██ █████████. "██ ████ head off now, ██████ ████ ███ █████ ████████ ███ ██████."
"███ ████ █████—?" ██ ██████ ██ ███ ███ ██ ██ ███████.
"█ ████ ██ ████. ██████." Her tears betray her words. █ ███████████ ██ ███ ██. █████ ██ only one way. The future supersedes the present.
"I'll do it."
The soldier blinked, with new pieces that couldn't quite connect in its mind. A gust of wind flew by, causing a scrap of green and white fabric to graft itself onto its hand. The soldier stared and grabbed at it. It was dusty, worn, practically ancient. All it could make out was the vague insignia of a crown-wearing lion and a mighty steed with a horn.
It was nothing, but it was enough for the soldier which had slumbered under the mountain of Holyhead to understand. Its singular purpose. The reason it still existed.
The people must be protected.
The people must be saved.
With no other ground to cover, the soldier marched south.
