The lost memories flew into her mind, like bees freed into the wilderness. She watched her childhood, her mother's death together with the rest of her mortal life, like a film on a projector.

Slovenia, Holy Roman Empire, Winter 1420:

The girl Stefania was seeing on the floor, drowning in a pool of blood, last breath escaping hours ago, could not be Stefania herself. The long brown hair and the same hideous dark green gown told to wear by her pathetic husband just the day before, told her the harsh reality.

She was dead.

Or she was going crazy.

Or maybe both.

She had a desire to cry, her eyes burned too, yet she was unable to collect any tears to let go off. It was as if her normal human functions did not work for her anymore. Ignoring that fact, she walked closer, having the desire to touch her other self. Reaching out with her right hand, she almost did just that, however, she pulled away just as she was about to stroke the hair of the dead person, strangely resembling herself.

She closed her eyes, hoping for it all not be fictitious and she would soon be waking up, finding she was alone, waiting desperately for attention from a man she despised with her all. The man she must call her husband. The man who did not deserve such a holy title, yet she made a devoted wife despite it all.

She reached out again and quickly retreated her trembling hand as she saw snippets of her mortal memory of events which took place the night before; her own death. Her husband, who promised in church, he will be a devoted partner to her, beat her to near death and then slit her throat as if she was a mere pig.

She remembered the excruciating agony, the man made her feel until finally, being free of emotional and physical pain, and for a slight moment, all she felt was indescribable love and happiness. She smiled at that particular memory, until being forced to return to the present, the sight of blood pushing bile up her throat and making her dizzy, more than when she smelled the damp copper.

The smell she came to know so well.

The smell of raw blood. So strong, she could almost taste it.

She kneeled next to the unmoving body, a dry, tear-less sob escaping her throat, which could be described as a painful vail of a creature in deep emotional pain. Stefania knew she was dead, yet she would have never even imagined it would be this painfully draining as the saddest memories flooded her mind. She clearly memorised the words of the beautiful mother of hers, mere moments before the wrath of death consumed her completely, at merely twenty years of age.

'Memento Quod docuit vos, Stefania. Nemini confide, memento verbi et imbecillitas non sinit,' her mother used to say, even then, when the last minutes' countdown began, towards the end of her life.

Stefania might have been five years when she lost her mother, but she remembered the event so clearly and she remembered these simple words until this day; trust no one, remember words and allow no weakness.

Simple, beautiful and true.

'Open this for me, for I'm too weak,' Her mother had said and opened her palm, her hand limb beside her weak body.

Stefania remembered the salty taste of tears, for her five years old self could not stop crying. She obeyed however and took a small glass bottle with a gold lid from her mother's weak hand, her own trembling uncontrollably. She pulled the lip open, a sweet smell enveloping her nostrils. She remembered the smell being mouth-watering.

'Good girl. Now, pour the liquid into my mouth,' Her mother had said with a hoarse voice, her breathing short and fast, more than painful to listen.

The girl did just as she was told and poured the small amount of liquid into her mother's mouth, the pale lips closing, gulping down the content. Coughing fit followed but the woman managed to whisper one word, 'Run.'

Five-year-old Stefania sobbed, and her body trembled but somehow managed to hide under the bed right next to her mother's weakening body, before hearing heavy footsteps. The girl did not dare to look, so she shut her eyes, too scared to breathe. If she could, she would cease her breathing also.

'Do you know, female, what happens to those who lie to me?' Spoke a deep strange voice, an evil voice of a man.

'You finally belong to evil, just like you wanted,' her mother had said, managing only a mere whisper.

'And now you will die, wife,' spite and hate came from the Latin words coming from the man.

In other words, her mother's murderer. Stefania remembered the mortifying sound of a sword cutting through raw flesh, sounding through their small, modest wooden shack, which stood in Poson, Provincia Pannonia, hidden by trees, reaching high in the sky. Or Bratislava, the capital belonging to Slovakia, as many modern humans called it.

The five-year-old Stefania remained under the bed hours after the incident, with her mother's corpse just a few feet away.

'Mea Cara, Stefania,' murmured a euphonious yet perfectly gravelly voice.

The ghost of the twenty-year-old Stefania realised she lost herself in her haunting memories, a weakness which could cost her a high price. Still hunched over her dead body, not willing to let it go, she felt hands on her head, but before she could pull away from the embrace, words were spoken, and then more, making her weaker, until she could no longer see more than darkness, paralysing her pathetic soul.

'Damnatio memoriae.'

'You know of no mother in your life, nor you know of a father, for, you knew of no family. Your lifestyle consisted of begging and stealing food until you were taken in by the man who later on forced you to become his wife. You had no name, no friends. You had no one to love you and care for you until I found your soul and took you to be one of my soul gatherers. I forbid you to remember your true name and your true memories. For your next life, you will be known as Amara.'

* * *

'Poseidon!' Thanatos' voice suddenly echoed, plenty of malevolence in the tone. If he had the ability to poison the whole city with the three syllables he uttered, at that moment he would do so, most probably without the blink of an eye.

Amara, or more correctly Stefania, still felt Poseidon's arms around her, yet there was nothing romantic or calming bought by the gesture, only memories and the pain carried by them. She ripped herself away from him, glaring at Thanatos, who as always stood in a stiff pose. What she never seen around him, or anyone for that matter, was a shadowy frame, made out of the colours pink and black, slightly blended together. It surrounded him, like what she imagined aura to look like, if such a thing existed.

'Nice of you to join the party, Thanatos. You missed all the spicy details. Never mind, you can always catch up,' Poseidon said and when she looked at him he was carrying a sarcastically innocent smile.

Poseidon also had a weird coloured frame surround him, yet this time, it was a mix of dark blue and light orange. That knowledge agitated her sightly, yet, she was also angry and distraught at the mere thought of her until now lost memories, therefore, she ignored it for now.

'Leave us!' Thanatos exclaimed, calmly

Stefania was surprised how easily Thanatos' voice turned into something so chillingly calm, almost monotone' for, she could have sworn he was almost upset before.

'Will you not thank me, after I've carried out all your dirty work?'

'Enough!' Stefania whispered with a silent plead, not finding enough strength in her shaking voice to shout. Both men looked at her giving up on their stare down, 'you,' she pointed at Poseidon, 'Do what he said and get away from here!'

'Your wish is my command, sweetheart,' he spoke with a head bow and disappeared, leaving a blue mist behind just a moment longer, before that too disappeared.

'And you,' she scrutinised the blackness of eyes Thanatos wore proudly, 'for all these centuries, you made me believe I had no one, knew no love, in my mortal life. Have you got any idea how horrible that feels?' she pierced him with her sharp glare, not daring to look into his eyes anymore. She opted to look at his nose instead. If he understood her emotions, he did not make it clear on his face.

'Amara,-' he pronounced her former name slowly and calmly.

'Do not call me that pathetic name,' she interrupted before he could utter other words, 'I'm no Amara. I'm Stefania and I will always be Stefania!' she shouted, this time finding her voice fully.

She might have disliked her name given by her mother, for, it represented pain, she hated her former name even more, for, it represented naivety. Even if her words somehow hurt Thanatos, Stefania was far too emotionally wounded to care. The lies in her existence reached quite a high branch yet she had a feeling, there was so much more she should know. And even after she remembered the pain in his eyes last night, the lies she was told by him simply bigger.

Or at the very least, her wounded pride told her so.

Thanatos grabbed Stefania's arm, before shouting, 'Listen to me, Stefania. First of all, do not get used to using that kind of tone with me. I am still your superior and can and will punish you if needed,' he sighed and his eyes softened, yet his tone still remained firm.

'I have my reasons for the events which took place and although you may have had your pride wounded in the process, I will not elaborate further on this matter.

'now,' he started more calmly with an even tone, 'we have a job to do, so get ready, you and I will be going on a small trip.'

And although he told her to get ready, he just grabbed her hand and walked together out of the castle, whilst she remained in her silky nightwear and her bare feet tapping along.