I awoke. Despite what most people consider normal, I wasn’t expecting this. Moments before, just seconds to my mind, I should have died. My memory was foggy, confused with traumatic memories of pain and sharp metal. I had no real idea what had happened, where I was, or even who I was. I only recalled a single image, a dark room lit by fire as a shrouded figure stood above me. They wielded a wicked dagger, and an instant later it plunged down. I died.

Obviously, something wasn’t adding up. I turned and reached around myself, wherever I was was dark and I couldn’t see. The floor was cold to the touch, stone maybe, but I couldn’t feel any significant texture. In fact, I couldn’t feel anything at all. I had a sense that I should feel something, panic maybe, the feeling of my skin against whatever I lay upon, a sense that my chest should heave with breath. Yet as I groped at the darkness around me, nothing. I felt absolutely nothing.

Subtly, it seemed light began to slowly glow, but I realized my eyes were just adjusting. I could start to see around myself, dark pillars and bare rough stone floors. I lay upon an altar on a dias, some strange shrine of stone in a pit as dark as pitch, yet my eyes began to see more and more despite the obvious darkness. The dias was partially carved from a tall wall behind me, stone created and hewn directly from wherever I found myself. A cavern stretched out creating a wall of impenetrable darkness, a wall that even my slightly adjusted eyes couldn’t hope to pierce.

Wherever I was, it was underground. I began to assess my situation, despite the lack of information. I was cold, in a cavern, awoke after assuming I should be dead, and had no memory of… anything. Yet it occurred to me, I seemed to understand things, things and descriptions flooded to me as my eyes continued to adjust to the darkness. How could I know what a dias was without any memories? Or what cold felt like, the difference between a cavern or a cave? Bewilderment and confusion was seeping in, a warning from my instincts that panic would take hold soon came, but beyond a strange sense of confusion my emotions remained calm; or more accurately I seemed to feel almost no emotion at all. My body seemed to scream for stimulus, a memory of what should be raging emotions and inner turmoil seemed to echo from deep inside. Yet nothing. Just an odd sense of wanting to understand my surroundings.

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My eyes tried to adjust further to the darkness, but vague silhouette and poor details was all I could manage to see. The stretching cavern before me was empty and seemingly vast, and my vision seemed to have no chance of noticing anything further. Without any other choice, I decided to get up. Just as I stepped from the dias’s altar, a wave of unease hit me suddenly. Nausea? No, slightly different. Before I could identify what it was that affected me, it passed. I wobbled to my feet, not entirely sure if I knew how to stand. Turns out, I did.

After stumbling a few steps, gathering my footing and almost falling down the short stone steps, I stood tall. Or at least I thought I stood tall, I wasn’t even sure what tall would really qualify as. With my legs beneath me, I turned to what should have been my grave. The dark prevented me from seeing anything beyond an outline. It was as I perceived it before; a stone altar on a dias with long shadows cast from a lack of light.

With my legs functioning, my eyes as adjusted as they’d ever be, I seemed to have no other choice than to walk in a direction. Attempting to venture forth, I strode down the dias towards the open cavern. When my foot touched the cavern floor, and I stepped off the dias, a sudden memory hit me. I lay upon the altar, torchlight burning tall and hot, dull chanting around me drowning out my own thoughts. My mouth was gagged, I needed to scream but only muffled cries escaped me. The cloaked figure stood above me, holding the wicked dagger high above their head. The figure whispered something, some kind of chant that ran counter to those around it. As my panicked eyes darted from the firelight, to the wall, to the dark figure’s shrouded face, I could barely hear what they whispered, “-in his embrace and by his guidance, I declare thee my sustenance. You will sustain me, and I will reap your time unto my own. By his will and decree, immortality is a lie. To survive, you must wound. I wound you, I steal your everything so that I may live. Die by his dark shroud!” Then the dagger fell.