Hello, this is Ranali; This'll be my first planned-out story, So all the chapters are done by the time it's actually posted. Disclaimer on the foreign language in chapter 2; that belongs to FFX. Everything else is mine. So, without further ado, this is Sands of Terrion: Uprising.

I woke in this new world, within the last piece of the old. It is dingy, grey, dark. I am on the floor, but I didn't know how I got there. I don't know anything. Not even my name. I stand, look around. There is a mirror on one wall, placed low, a weird tube attatched to the other, and little else. I pace the room. It is 6 paces longways, 7 across. I look in the mirror. I see dark hair, green eyes, fair skin. A bottom lip that rests in a pout, thin yet defined dark eyebrows. It's not at all familiar. I wonder for a moment if I am looking into a mirror at all, or if I am peering through a window as the girl I see does the same. I test the theory, but that is certainly me. I look down at my clothes, a white camisole, off-green pants, and feet bare. Suddenly I realize I'm freezing. I look around again, looking for a door. It's behind the tube, but I can sqeeze through. It opens outward, and I whisper thanks. To the architect, to whoever left the door unlocked, to my luck, it doesn't matter. From here, there is only one way to go: out.

I exit a long corridor and find myself in an unrecognizable desert. I stand by a cliff; if I jump, the fall would kill me. It is warm, almost too warm after being so cold, but I welcome the sun's kisses, its radiance and heat. I move away from the cliff-side. Stiff muscles request release, and I grant it, moving faster with every stride. I sprint into an oncoming sandstorm, and in it I trip.

I trip over a femur bone. I know it is a femur because it is too long to be anything else. The bone quivers, then jumps out of the sand, attaching to other bones until together they make a person. Knew it was a femur.

The undead skeleton is armed with a spear. It's emitting a dark aura, the spear and its wielder. It raises its weapon, to kill me. Perhaps I will share its fate-what other reason would it kill, for why should a skeleton require sustenance? Frightened, I shield myself, crossing my arms, and charge at the monster. I don't want to die, not before I've even lived! Whether I sent the creature back to sleep, or if it chases me still, I do not know, for I do not look back. I sprint to where I hope I can find peace. The sand attacks my eyes and I close them, preferring temporary blindness to permanent. My legs begin to ache, my throat becomes dry. The moment my feet touch pavement, I collapse.

I wake several times afterwards, but much of what I see is blurred, and I fall unconscious soon afterwards. When I am able to see clearly again, the first thing I see is her. A young woman, with clear blue eyes and pale pink lips. I can't see much else because she is taking my temperature, her temple separated from my own by her hand. Her eyes widen slightly and in the time it takes to blink, she is sitting beside me, her hands fidgeting.

I see my surroundings now; the room is white all over, aside some decorative flowers. It looks like a hospital room, but I cannot be certain. "Where am I?" I ask. My throat hurts, perhaps from lack of use. Maybe I refused to drink in my sleep. The girl beside me hears the hoarseness in my voice and hands me a cup she'd been holding. I drink it, it is clear and sweet, but perhaps that is the dehydration talking.

As I drink, the girl answers, "You're in the hospital wing. A scouting party found you. They say you were coming to spy on us. Once you're better, they'll bring you to the Dark Room for questioning." I wince. The Dark Room doesn't sound very friendly. "I best stay sick, then, huh?" I joke, but she doesn't laugh.

I give the girl a closer look. She has lightly tanned skin, ashen-blonde hair, wearing a white blouse and dark blue pants, the legs boot-cut. Her eyes hold a look of caution, her lips pursed as if I were to steal her secrets with her breath. She's a little taller than myself, and I believe I am short for my age. How old am I? I wonder if the doctors can figure out.

"Miss," I begin, "I don't know who I am, where I am, or much of anything. I woke up in an old room, and when I came out, I was in a desert. I started running, ended up being attacked by some monster and ran as far as I could from it. I just wanna go home, and I don't even know where home is! What about me could possibly make you think an unconscious girl could be a spy?" I was shouting by the end of it, my words moving fast and fearful. The girl looks at me almost pityingly. I feel tears prick at my eyes, but I don't want to cry to her. I don't want pity. I look away, out the window, where a unrecognizable city lies.

"Because you look Gaian." I turn to the girl in confusion. She sees this and continues, "Your hair. The only people with dark hair like that and light skin are the Gaian. You're eyes are different, though," she adds in reassurance, "I've never seen eyes like yours on anyone before. They remind me of stories of the Folk." I feel like it's a compliment, but I've no clue what she's referring to. "Miss, where am I?"

"Ronin, in the country of Velon."

"No, really." The girl gives a short sigh. For the one without any memories, I guess I am being difficult. "Okay, so yes really. Neither names ring a bell."

"Does Terrion ring a bell?" She asks, annoyance tinting her tone.

"Not one," I answer honestly, frustration heard in my own. She narrows her eyes at me, and I wonder if her question had a wrong answer. "What's your name? So I can stop calling you 'Miss' all the dang time," I ask, hoping to deflect her suspicion.

"Anya. Lady Anya," she adds curtly, though her lips twitch, a ghost of a smile. I grin at that. "Charmed."

I am brought to the Dark Room once I can walk. It's pitch black, too dark to see the end of your nose. At least it lives up to its name. I'm shoved in the room, and fall over. The door is closed, and its light extinguishes. I can't feel the floor. I can't see the walls. There's no scent, either, and the air is tasteless. And it's silent. I can't tell if I'm alone or not. I pull myself into a crouch and wait for a sound. The scrape of a shoe against the ground I cannot feel. A hand moving against the walls I cannot see. A whisper, a slip-up. But there is nothing.
I sit there for minutes, hours, days, weeks, I don't know. Time is lost in this room. Finally I am pulled up off the ground-or perhaps to my feet? A harsh voice speaks, loud, close. "Who are you?"

"I don't know," I croak helplessly, knowing, though it is the truth, my answer was incorrect. There is a cracking sound, and my back burns in pain. I cry out, not words, just a scream. They ask again, I answer the same, and am punished again. Over and over, one lash of the whip for every "wrong" answer, until I am sure my back is covered in blood. "Who are you?" The harsh voice asks for the twenty-sixth time. Maybe it is more. I've lost count. I do not think I can take another lash. In a voice soft as death, I say, "Sanctuary." The voice laughs, as if it had won a long battle. They think it's my name! "Sanctuary, I'm requesting Sanctuary!" I beg them to understand. They realize what I've said, or rather that I've refused compliance still, and the voice orders for the whip. I hear the crack, feel the burning of pain across my chest. I cry out, for the one person kind enough to give me their name. "Anya!" Then I am not there at all, my mind melded with the darkness.

A/N: Not sure but I think it's kinda fast-paced...opinions, anyone? R&R

Next Chapter: Anya provides a cover for our wounded protagonist, & an antagonist is introduced.