I woke up in utter darkness to the odd impression that I was choking on a frog.

“And thus, a soul alighteth.” It said, slightly muffled. “Arise, thee, born of dusk, and allow me purchase within thine bosom.”

Fuck no!

It was a uniquely unpleasant feeling. I didn’t realize that it was actually the frog doing the talking at first. It was really stuck in my gullet, like way down deep in there, and the way it talked in that fancy-shmancy pretentious sounding tone really didn’t help clear my confusion.

It wasn’t technically a frog. Toads weren’t frogs, and this one was clearly too big to be the latter anyways. As I would later find out, they took particular insult to the comparison. Which was odd, seeing as toads stood above frogs on my list of things that made me feel violently uncomfortable. Not far, but there was a gap, populated by pointy skinks, those lizard-things without legs and naked mole rats.

I didn’t care much for the difference. To me, every toad was a frog, every frog was a toad and they could all go to hell together.

Regardless, it was dark and there was still a frog in my mouth, squished against something covering my face. I was naturally only mildly panicked.

Oh shit, oh shit, OH SHIT, OH SHIT, OH SHIT!

I frantically scratched against it and my fingers slipped off of metal, a frightful breath inhaling wet air and the unfortunate amphibian once more.

“Do not fret. I shall guide thee soon.“

I gagged. I choked. I only swallowed it further down.

No! I want out! I wan-HURK.

My hacking didn’t echo far, but, thrust forward into the unknown, was swallowed by an all-encompassing blanket of darkness. There was no light, not dim nor bright, not here nor there nor anywhere at all. But once again, I had a slightly more pressing issue at hand.

Toad. Throat. Can’t breathe.

“Calm thyself. It shall be done soon, and then – ribbit!?”

As I felt the frog wiggle further down the back of my mouth, my panic only increased. If I was good at anything, it was blind and uninhibited fear.

GET OUT! URK, GAH!

My face, something’s covering my face.

Help, HELP, WY WON'T ANYONE HELP ME?

Finally, I felt my fingernails slide between some form of crack or in-between-spot on the thing on my face. I pulled, pulled with everything I had. With a crack and the sound of metal scratching on metal, a plate came off I could finally breathe. After removing the toad.

“Cease! The process must not– hey, ow, hey, hey, that leg is delicate, cease or I’ll – SCREEE!”

It was lodged in deep but after prodding the wrong part of the back of my throat, it was pushed upwards with a swell of ickiness. With a cough to end all coughs it was unceremoniously ejected and landed with a squelch and a croak somewhere on the cold stone floor.

PTOOEY. Hack, urk, hurk. Ugh, I feel awful.

As the toad hit the ground and I lay panting heavily, I turned overly conscious of my throat and gums. My mouth felt disgusting. A slimy residue that I could smell made me feel like I didn’t want to swallow anything ever again. I scratched out every corner of my mouth. I needed to swallow; my throat like sand between dried paper scrolls.

Eventually, I felt clean enough with the state of my mouth that I dared a gulp.

Gulp.

It still felt dry. Way too dry.

My neck, I can’t touch my neck! Oh gods, I can’t touch anything, I feel nothing! If I pat my head, my chest, legs, arms, everything is there, but I feel nothing!

Ok, no, wait. There is… something. A pain in my bones, like being sick or of high fever. An ache in my muscles, like sitting on a log in an awkward position. Hunger. Thirst. Both like a burning hole in my chest.

Ok, that last bit, that was just my heart. It was beating to a rhythm I didn’t quite recognize, but I let it be. If someone’s working hard, best not interrupt them.

Still, the aching became stronger, and I just wanted to go back to sleep.

Wait. I was sleeping? Where am I? What time is it?

Looking around didn’t answer the question, it was evidently night, or so I thought. The darkness that surrounded me on all sides, however, begged to differ. It was a darkness not born from the absence of the sun, but the complete lack of any form of light at all. Natural or man-made.

“How truly unpleasant. No dignified talk, without base politeness nor the delicacy to offer a simple 'sorry'.” I didn’t know it was the toad talking at the time.

Who said that!?

It was coming from somewhere up front but trying to lift my body only left me a few hand-spans above the ground before I collapsed back onto it.

“Though didst not understand? Very well, I shall lower mine self. For thy sake.”

There was someone else here. Who was here? I couldn’t remember who was last accompanying me, who I was with before, before…

Before what? What happened before I went to sleep? I remember running, jumping, skidding ‘cross stone and dust and then what?

Where am I? Where is this place, what time is it, gods, what, what, what…

“Guess we’re doin’ it simple. Quick and dirty. You’ve got no one to blame but yourself for this.” Said the frog in a voice that sounded a tad too chipper.

Something else prodded at the side of my mind. A small insecurity, a single doubt, alone and simple. A question burrowing its way to the forefront of my mind.

Who?

The dreaded question reached the front door.

Who?

It was inside my head.

What is my name?

Who am I?

I didn’t know the answer and that terrified me.

“Get up. Eternity doesn’t wait for those who rise late.”

There it was again. That voice, like shredded tar, like a gurgling worm in the muck.

Wh-who’s there? Show yourself!

My fingers clenched, desperate to find some sort of hold, yet there was only hard rock, or something of the like, that I could barely feel through my fingers.

“You’ve really put us in quite a pickle, you and me both, missy.”

Missy? Ok, I have to stand up just so I can step on the foot of whoever that voice belongs to. I am not a missy, I am, I was… someone. Someone more. I have – had rank? Honor? A stable, well-paying job? A pension. A... horse? What's a horse? Thoughts, thoughts, questions and dead than deader ends. Later. For now, I have a foot to crush.

Wait.

I touched my face and felt the cold bite of steel. Ow, I almost poked my eye out with my ring finger, specifically the metal gauntlets that I was wearing. I felt along my face, hearing the scratch of metal on metal above my brows, below my chin and in front of both my ears.

Ok. This is fine. Just take stock. Simple counting. Take everything in one at a time.

A helmet. And gloves. Metal and old leather. Next was my body. There was something soft over a hard carapace on my chest.

Cloth? Who wears cloth above armor? That would be – oooh. Heraldry. Identification. Cold weather. Emergency napkin.

Many reasons were coming to mind and one of them was why I was wearing this stuff. Not sure what it was made of but rubbing it against my face made a part of it flake off.

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Ew. Now I have dust-of-emergency-napkin on my face.

Atchoo!

And up my nose. Urgh.

Focus.

Moving on, I felt my arms. Single curved plates, strapped to my forearms and above and below. The pauldron on my right and extra metal plates running partially along the outer part of my upper arm. No elbow protection.

Drats. I knew then that I was going to miss them, with the way everything was pitch black I was most certainly going to fall and smash them into all kinds of pointy edges.

Joyous thoughts. Thank you, me, happy to have you.

Someone burped. Or cleared their throat. Okay, legs could come later, I needed to know who the hell was watching me sleep and wake up, because depending on their character I might need to do some slight facial remodeling.

On them. Not me. I was no beauty, but it wasn’t to that extent. Was I? Gods, even trying to remember the vague shape of my face was harder than standing up. Which I was doing, by the way, albeit very slowly.

My eyes were getting used to the level of light around me which was quite a surprise. I knew that I was sleeping in some sort of tub-like shaped rock and the vaguest hints of shapes revealed themselves to my eyes and touch.

Still, moving my body was a lot more difficult than it ought to be. That I knew for sure. And so, sitting upright was the best I could do.

“Well – ribbit – this’ll have to do.”

A weight shifted on my foot. I saw the smooth toad looking at me for the first time. Compared to everything else around me, it was almost glowing.

“Rise and shine, Rye”

“Uh” I uh-ed, ever the brightest mind, easily catching on to the most perilous and confusing of circumstances with lightning speed. Luckily, this was not one of those and therefore, my brain-fart could very well be excused by the unexpected mundanity of having just woken up sore and aching in the uncomfortably near presence of a squishy frog-toad.

The toad was sitting on my naked foot. Comfortably, might I add, as its chubby fingers folded over one another under its body. It looked to be roughly of enough size and weight that the latter deformed the former into a rather pudgy figure.

“Good. Now that we’re all settled, I think we need to talk. Urgently.”

“Ah!” I said, failing entirely to add to the conversation once more.

Ok, now that one was entirely on me. Denial is a few steps before acceptance after all, and while I feel I should have had stranger experiences in life, talking to a toad is odder than I am willing to process at the moment.

“UH, Ah, uh – is that how you intend to excuse yourself? Really, Rye?”

“Uh…” Ok, now, don’t panic. That one was on me again, no excuses this time. You didn’t forget how to talk over night, me, you can do it.

I tried massaging my throat, but there were some metal rings in the way. They jingled slightly and my throat was killing me.

“Ah. Uh. AH! Uh. UUH! AAUUUH UHAHUH!” FUCK, why the hell can’t I talk? What is wrong with me, why am I here, where is ‘here’, who-

“Oh. I see. Yes, well that is going to be an issue. It’s your fault, by the way, but we’ll cross that brook when we get to it.”

“Uh?” I wasn’t sure if it understood that as a question. Saying “Uh” with a slight raise at the end didn’t really convey “You know what’s happening to me? My voice, my body, my memory? EVERYTHING? Why the HELL can’t I talk? Where is this place and why is it so gods-damn dark? Tell me, tell me, TELL ME!”

“Well, I note that you’re a tad distressed. Calm down, please. We won’t get anything done at this rate if you refuse to be cooperative.”

Ok. Fair point. I will panic, silently on the inside as I breathe and settle my body. I know how to do that. I’ve had to do it my entire life. Breathe in. Out. In. Out. I bet my nose is flaring in that weird way again. The way that got me mocked at the barracks, – no, at the dinner table – no, no, no, the training grounds,– no…

Am I a knight, or a warrior or something? That would be kinda neat. Knights are supposed to be fearless after all and I could use some less existential dread right about now.

“Good. Now, I’m sure you have many questions.”

“Uh-huh.”

“As far as I’m concerned, they are all entirely irrelevant. I will only answer as far as I can and am willed to do and only if you listen closely. Only then will we get through this together.”

“Uh.” What an oddly rude toad.

“So, the following: You’re gonna have to get up. Somehow, with your body in that state and whatnot. I won’t be able to help you, thanks to someone’s interference.”

Was it talking about me? Why, I’d never! Also, spitting it out was completely justified. Toads have warts after all, even if this one was oddly smooth. And warts are nasty.

“Also, you’ll have to get used to being, well, frankly, weaker than a child for some time. You’ll work that out, I’m sure you will. I believe in you. I have chosen you, out of a hundred other dregs, after all. Then, once you’ve gotten used to stepping around, swinging that sword of yours, we can continue with the real good stuff, alright?”

That sounded surprisingly... reasonable, coming from a dinnerplate-sized smooth frog. Toad. Whatever, the distinction was moot and, more importantly, my aches and pains were certainly not going away, and the weight of metal armor was really, really making itself known. If standing up was such an issue, moving around with it would be even more so.

“Uh-huh!” That was about as much consent as I could give. The toad seemed to understand, as it slowly blinked first one eye, then the other.

“Good. If you get this done, I think we’ll become real good pals. Now, onto the good stuff.” Thank you, mister toad. Weird condition for a bit of comradery but - oh, OH GOD IT HAS HUMAN TEETH!

Panic ensued as the toad’s smile widened. Adrenaline soon followed and with one stiff motion, a literal knee-jerk reaction, I kicked the air as hard as I could. The toad flew far, very far. It was hopefully far enough, going by the quickly subsiding noises that a toad made when suddenly propelled upwards and away at high velocity.

Holy fuck, by all gods and the sun, NO. That was NOT ok. That was so not ok.

This is a dream. A nightmare. It has to be.

----------------------------------------

One step.

Shakily, I stood on both my legs.

Another step. Baby steps, me. You can do it.

It was agony. My muscles were screaming, begging to stop. My legs bent and I felt like standing on stalks of grass.

I really hope they don’t break.

Yet another step. I was getting good at this! Better, even! Walking wasn’t hard when you’ve done it your entire life. In theory. In practice, standing up with the added challenge of walking in full armor, after sleeping as poorly as I no doubt had for sun knows how long, was a challenge.

But I’m standing!

Wobbly, shakily, I was a newborn doe with the added pains of having lived long past my time. I felt like an old lady and a child at the same time. Not a good prospect for, well, a knight. That’s what I’d settled on that I was. Or would like to be.

I can always do the exam for knighthood later. There’s an exam for that… right?

I had armor, as far as I could tell. I had a big sword, albeit it felt crumbly. Like someone buried it in secret, then had forgotten about it for a few decades. I also had a shield but, well, that one basically fell apart in my hands. Rotted wood and all. So, in effect, I only had a sword, long and heavy.

How long had I slept for? Well, going by dream logic, between five minutes and five hours.

Sheesh, can someone turn on the lights please? I don’t want this to be one of those nightmares where I’m chased through dark and unfamiliar halls and stuff. I usually die at the end.

Everything was still dark, even though some time had to have passed. I looked up.

No stars, no moons.

I looked down. Everything was shades of black which, so to say, was not very enlightening. Hah. Puns. I seemed to have some semblance of barely-vision up to around three feet out but after that, it was pitch black.

What if it wasn’t night?

What if there was no sun? No sun meant no light. No light, no sight. Nothing. Just eternal blindness.

This had to be a nightmare. Or a trick. Or whatever came after death.

Oh shit, am I dead? Am I in hell? Purgatory, or limbo or, or, or…? Ugh. Thoughts being thoughts again. At this point, a nightmare seems preferable. I hereby declare this a nightmare! Hear my cry and know it to be the truth!

“Uh”. Right. Throat bad. Worries for another day. If that day ever came.

Gods, I really hope this is just a nightmare. All I’d have to do then is face my fears and either succeed or, more likely, die horribly and wake up.

I looked back to where I had slept. It was a stone bathtub of sorts, thick walls and a lid that had slid off. A lid made of sheer stone. Did I do that? Push it off, as if it were the first thing to do in the morning?

Yeah, no, probably, maybe. Honestly, without light, I wasn’t even sure if this was some sort of sarcophagus or just a very macabre and uncomfortable bed. Was there a torch around here? No? Some candles, maybe? Also no? The shine of dawn crawling across the horizon to greet ol’ hungover me as I gently wake up in the arms of a handsome companion? Yeah, keep on dreaming.

I took a few steps around, finding the ground to be rather moist and soft in parts, then like cobbled stone in others. My footsteps made a rasping sound as they ground atop sand, mud, and rock and now that I was out of view of my previous abode, I felt cold. Not just my bare feet, but my whole body was chilly. There were no walls, was no ceiling. There was darkness, and wetness, and rockiness. Instincts, honed over the course of training in… something, were screaming at me.

You’re in an open space. Nothing all around except darkness. This is the point where the monster reveals itself and instantly kills me in one hit. Or chomp. Right… now. Now!... now?

I started imagining bad things and the more I thought, the more the images conjured up by my mind seemed to become real, to gain life against the pitch black canvas of the night.

Is that a guy in a corner, sharpening his knife? A dog, or wolf, slobbering and totally hidden except for the glowing eyes? Monsters, sprung from the pages of books I read once, from the earliest of ages, here? Do I have to fight them? Can I even? They’ll jump me the moment I show weakness, the moment I falter. I can’t run and everyone is looking at me.

My left knee gave in and my entire body creaked as I fell over. Almost fell over.

S-slow down! Breathe! Be soft, but hard. You’re an ocean and fear is only a drop.

I’m an ocean. I’m calm, come suffering or storm. I’m calm.

Then, something moved over my arm, and I was entirely not calm

“Gah, fffuu-“ I could feel hair, bristly like twigs, it jittered and it was ON MY ARM.

I tried shaking it off. But it clung to me.

I tried pulling it off.

Ow! It bit me!

Something warm leaked from my right hand as I pulled it back.

Blood. I’m bleeding. Through my glove.

I tried brushing it off, but it was the size of my head and it clung, it clung to me. It was still there, and in a moment of clarity, I reached for my flaky sword.

Then it stung. Something stung on my right elbow, between the plates that were supposed to protect it.

I screamed.

Like a hot needle, jabbed into my bone, gods, it hurt, it hurts, it hurts, get it off me!

I bashed it with my sword, but the sword was too long and heavy. My arm wobbled ineffectively, as I felt it pierce through my arm again. Panic. Panic, pandemonium, fire, FIRE!

I gave up on cutting it or stabbing it. I clawed at the bristly thing with my gauntlet, pieces like twigs breaking off as it rustled over my vambrace. I bashed it, bashed it so hard I hit my own arm twice and still, I kept on bashing. I hit it with my sword, its blade, the handguard, the pommel.

Bash bash bash bash, thrash, and bash.

I don’t know how much time passed like that. Struggles for life and death were a lot more visceral than the storybooks made them out to be. No place for heroism, for glory, only grit, pain, and blood. I certainly didn’t feel heroic, fighting something the size of my head. Though it was as if I had vanquished a dragon when the thing finally fell limp, hanging off the side of my arm.

It was stuck. I had to pull it out and so I did. Deep pain, sharp pain, then a warm, bubbling feeling as whatever rags I wore underneath my armor soaked themselves full with blood.

Oh shit. I gotta stop it. Gotta stop. The bleeding.

Woah. Tired.

Warm.

Cold.

Eyes heavy. Limbs heavy. Breathing unsteady. Pressing my hand onto my wound, there was nothing much I could do. And so, I prayed. I prayed to my gods. I didn’t remember their names, or their faces or what they stood for. But I knew they’d protect me, that if I was an upright and virtuous person, they’d listen. I had nothing to give in sacrifice, but nonetheless I offered whatever they’d accept, as my arm grew hot, and body grew colder.

That was the last thing I remembered, as it all became too much, and I fell asleep once more. Only this time, I prayed that I’d wake up in a different place, a soft place, a place like home.

But it was not meant to be.