"I drift again. My form thrown into this wretched cycle of uncertainity. I float endlessly through this realm of...of...despair. My course ever changing...never ceasing. Just where am I?", thoughts begin to fill his mind as his astral form keeps floating on and on, forever adrift on the open psychic sea that is this dimension. Each thought pushed him further away and slowly corroded his memories. The realm was blank, only the vermillion skies to keep him company...or were they the vermillion depths? There was no meaning of form or direction where he lay. No creation, just shapeless energy. No meaning. No life.
"Who am I? I struggle to remember. It's been so long since someone needed my attention. Am I alone? I can't see...but I do not fear. I stay vigilant and carry on.", he adds before his endless drift suddenly comes to stop.
"I-I remember this purgatory now. It is where I was born...or stillborn.", in his reliving of his first death he was oblivious to what just happened. He was too immersed in the memory.
//...WAKE UP!...We need you...//, a feminine soothing voice proclaims to the cursed sailor. It comes and goes, like an echo. It's sounds torn, like ancient scripts. He hears only bits.
"What? Who are you? SHOW YOURSELF, WITCH!", he screams in confusion as he looks around, searching for the source of his ominous calling.
//...You do not remember us, Great king? We are one...//, she says as an ethereal hand swoops down from above, swiftly grabbing him by the neck and forcing him to the light.
♦ 1.1. 2015 ♦
♦ Ancient Tombs. Just south of Prague. ♦
"Hhhhhhh!", he springs to life again with a gasp for air. His lungs racing as he focuses on them. It was an eternity since he needed them. Now it was up to him to remember how to breathe again.
"C-co?" / <W-what?>, he mumbles in his native tongue. He looks around and then at his hand to see it withered to the bone. The former King of the Czechs reduced to a walking corpse with only a few hairs left on his decayed head. Atleast breathing was becoming more of an instinct again.
He was laying on a stone pedestal. It must have been carved out for him since it was just enough to contain his body and nothing more. The former king moved his legs off the side of the pedestal before attempting to walk again.
"I can feel you. Move...MOVE!" He looks at his legs to muster up his strength and *CRUNCH!*. His withered visage meets the cold floor below. His bones aged well beyond their due time, they broke like sticks in a campfire. He doesn't scream out, he was raised a top wolf tempered by battle. If all, it was relief that he felt. After an eternity, pain couldn't feel sweeter.
Suddenly he sees IT. A golden snake? Impossible, nothing like that exists. It looks more like...moving water?
It swirls around and makes haste towards the downed warrior. Piercing what is left of his skin and entering his body.
//...Hello...My king...//, he hears the voice again, now coming from the inside of his own head.
//...We...welcome you again...//, she adds as his decaying form envelops itself in a golden glow.
He could feel the strange golden snake moving inside him. It coursed through his veins and made his heart beat again. The invigorating surge of power! That he knew. Just like in the old days. In a matter of moments his broken legs fully heal and he makes another attempt to stand up, this time succesfully.
Instinct drives him forwards. He could feel his whole body mending and strengthening with every step. Torches suddenly light up the room as he reaches a large metal door. To his eyes a large tomb reveals itself, stone upon stone of ancient masonry.
It takes a firm push and the strength of his whole body to even budge them. it looked useless, but he wasn't giving up. Putting one hand on each half of the he leans against the giant obstacle. His legs were pushing with all their restored might, until finally the door flies open. It reveals a dying forest...
As he moves his left hand to protect his weak eyes from the sharp sun rays he asks once again:
"Kde to jen jsem?" / <Just where am I?>
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