I remember that it started with darkness. Even now, recalling the details in crystal clarity is difficult, but I shall try my best. There were very brief flashes of lucidity that went by as fast as the beat of a fly’s wing. I remember being carried away like a child being taken to bed. I felt my body being lifted and taken to some place. I could see faces, but they were twisted and deformed. It was like their faces became a twisting dark void, swirling into nothingness. I couldn’t recognize anyone. When I first faded in, I could see the large natural archway out of the slopes, and the pale blue sky overhead. Above my head I could see someone in dark robes. Like the others, the face was a dark void of emptiness. I felt pain in my leg and groaned before everything faded.

A few seconds passed and I faded in again. I saw the sky had shifted. The sun had reached as high as it could go, and I saw trees, yet the faces were still voids. I felt a hand on my chest and saw that the robed figure, yet the face was nothing but darkness. I strained my eyes to try to find some trace of a human visage, but I felt like I was fading again.

I woke up and soon found myself standing in front of a white building of marble. Great statues depicting heroes of old stood guard in front of it. I realized where I was. I was home. I was in Roharim. Everything was as silent as the grave. There was no sound: no wind, no chattering of birds, no hum of the nearby river, no sounds of people greeting each other and the fall of footsteps. I stared at the building for a moment before I felt myself fall backwards. I passed through the ground as if it were mist and found myself rightside up again. I was now in a training yard inside the building. There were boys as young as ten years fighting. Each child was equipped with a wooden shield and sword. They fought each other in combat that resulted in large bruises and drawing blood. One boy was knocked down into the dirt. The teacher who was instructing the boys how to fight went over to the boy. The man stood the child up and then struck him in his face with his ring hand.

“Again!” The man yelled loudly, enough to echo through the halls. The boy did as was instructed and faced the other boy again. He held his shield up firmly and waited for his opponent to strike. When he did, he used his own momentum against him and flipped him over his shield. The boy on the ground groaned loudly before the victorious child dealt a final blow which broke the loser’s nose, causing blood to rush through him. He cried and was yanked up and pushed aside by the teacher.

“Roharim Warriors do not show weakness!”

The teacher struck the boy and then pointed to a bench where other wounded children were. The victorious boy watched with an uneasy knot in his stomach before the teacher raised his arm in the air.

“You did good. You did not show weakness. Show even an ounce of weakness and you will lie on the ground with your entrails spilt. Do you understand?”

The boy nodded. The teacher left and the boy was left to find another opponent. He was not supposed to stop until only one child remained. The boy flashed me with bright green eyes, and I recognized them as my own. That boy was me. I remember countless times where I had found myself on that bench with new wounds and filled with shame. When boys in Roharim reached ten years old, they could choose to undergo these trials. They were called “The Lessons of Roharim.” Once a boy had chosen this path, there was no going back. They never told us about the struggles you face when learning the lessons.

From a young age we were taught that weakness should be eliminated and strength is all that matters. Weakness was for politicians and diplomats. We were soldiers first and foremost. We were raised to enter the house of war. We were taught that the most important thing anyone could ever do was to serve Roharim. If you were a man, then it was your duty to fight and die for Roharim. If you were a woman, then the greatest achievement was to die in childbirth, for both men and women would have died so that Roharim could live. This is why only these two types of people were allowed to have tombstones.

I was reliving the lessons from the perspective of an outsider. I saw the difficulties my younger self was a part of. Weakness was not tolerated for any reason. When one boy showed even a hint of cowardice or hesitated for even a moment, then we were expected to correct the problem. We bullied, beat, and humiliated the weak one. Otherwise we were the ones who were beaten. Many times we were taken out to the wilderness in order to try to survive as long as possible. Our goal was to kill a wolf and bring back its fang. This was considered the final test of a Roharim boy, and many did not survive the attempt.

I remember when I was hunting. I had just turned thirteen. All I had with me were a few rations, my sword and shield, a spear, and my willpower. I was sitting under a tree when the moon was full and bright as the sun. I looked at my younger self and sat beside him. I wanted to comfort him. I wanted to tell him that it was worth it, for I knew the thoughts that dwelt in his mind. He was homesick. He wanted to see his mother and father again. I reached out to try to touch his shoulder, but he turned his head towards me. I thought that he could see me, but then I remembered that it was not me that the boy was looking at, but the wolf that thought it could have an easy meal. It leapt and bit at my younger self, ripping into his flesh. I felt the scars on my back that the wolf had made by raking his claws along my tender skin.

My younger self tried to spear the ravenous beast, but it grabbed the spear and broke it, sending the spear head away from me. In a desperate panic my younger self grabbed a rock from above his head and slammed it against the wolf’s face. This got the wolf off of him for a moment before he ran to pick up the spear. The disoriented wolf lunged at child me, and pinned me down while gnashing its fangs at me. The boy had only one chance to survive and that was to thrust the spear head into the beast’s throat. I had stabbed over and over and over again until the wolf stopped moving. Fire had burnt through my young veins and I could feel pride and yet sorrow. The beast had fought well, but it was either me or him.

It was in the wolf’s final moments that I understood the final lesson. Always be prepared for an attack, for you can not trust the world. The world has no respect for you, so you must make it respect you.

I brought the wolf’s pelt back to my teacher, and only then was I finally recognized as a man. The rest of my years were spent training harder. My parents were so proud of me. I often wish I could have seen them more. But alas, the last time I saw them was before my encounter with the young and beautiful noblewoman. I had not seen them in a great many years. I wondered if they would have been proud of me then, after my banishment to the Blasted Lands.

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After that vision, everything had gone dark again. I was in a void, wondering what would happen to me next. What more visions would I have to endure in my envenomed stupor? What creature from my deepest nightmares would taunt me? I got my answer soon enough.

“Hadrian…” In one instant, thousands of voices spoke in unison. Thousands of voices, yet one mind.

I turned around and saw Cora standing there. She had no mask on and was dressed in a comfortable, relaxing outfit. I peered at her. She was still as beautiful as ever.

“C-Cora?”

Her eyes were closed and she wouldn’t move. She was as frozen as a silent statue in a graveyard. I stepped closer towards her. Her eyes opened, but they were not the beautiful violet eyes I saw before. They were golden serpentine eyes with three slitted pupils. There was a sickening crack that came next like the snapping of twigs, or as the case was, bones. Her throat undulated and pulsed as if something was moving inside. I stepped back in horror and knew that this was some sort of trick.

She fell to her knees as a long black shape burst through her mouth like a pike. The force of which ripped the teeth right out of the jaws as her eyes rolled to the back of her head. Her head went limp as the creature slithered out of her. It was as tall as a fully grown man as it raised its body up. I looked at me through its golden eyes, the same that the vision of Cora had. I knew exactly who this was.

“Ile’Sethak… my lord.”

I knelt down in reverence. Ile’Sethak had appeared before me. His forked tongue flicked in the air. His voice was like a long painful cut of a blade being dragged down from the base of your neck to your lower back.

“Hadrian. My chosssen.”

I kept my head low. I was in the presence of a God. It was also my first one on one meeting with him. I had to make a good impression.

“Where are we? Am I dead?”

“No. Not dead. You are between life and death. You shall live becaussse it is my will.”

His tail flicked about as the form of Cora crumpled away like used snakeskin in the wind. As he moved, I could hear the all too familiar noise of a rattle at his tail. His Cobra hood fit him like a great crown, and was a symbol of his authority. His fangs were sharp like a blade, and practically dripping with a venom that could kill instantly. His black and gray scales were rigid and heavily armored and the spaces between his scales glittered like gold. One would attribute him to be a dragon if they only caught a glimpse of him.

“Hadrian. Hear my words and obey.”

I kept my head low, waiting to hear his command. Every word the great serpent spoke was done so with a hiss.

“I am new to the world, and have naught the strength to usher my will upon this world. As such, I have chosen you to be my prophet. You have already suspected this to be the case.”

“Then why tell me what I already know, my lord?”

“For I have new information that will aid you in this task. Also, I would hate for you to be distracted by earthly pleasures before the work is done.”

I swallowed hard. Suddenly the reason for his dramatic entrance became crystal clear.

“My lord, surely you don’t mean-”

“I only will speak the truth to you.”

He let out a loud hiss as warning for speaking out of turn.

“She serves as a distraction. She will interfere with your noble conquest.”

I lowered my head, not wanting to believe it. I had grown to trust Cora over our short time together. I respected her. Ille’Sethak continued to speak, noticing my disbelief.

“You do not think this is so? She serves Lak’Ashara, the harlot queen. Her very existence is a liability. She served her lady for many years. Do you honestly think that a woman like her could change her loyalties so easily for you?”

I remained silent. I had no retort to say. I figured that if I simply let him speak, then he would get on to the point. As much as I revered Ille’Sethak, our first proper meeting was him simply scolding me for being distracted by a pretty woman. Needless to say, I didn’t worship him simply to be lectured to.

“What is your bidding, my lord?”

I made sure to keep my head as low as I could. Despite the lecture, I still showed Ille’Sethak my deepest respect. One must not anger the gods.

He hissed and rattled his tale, those golden eyes peering into my very soul before he finally spoke to me.

“I am new to this world. As such, my power is limited. There are those however who's faith in me is absolute, for I have made them in my image. In your travels, you will meet with my children. They are known as the Ophidians. They shall aid you in your task.”

“How will they help me, my lord?”

“They shall give to you my greatest gift, Hadrian. A mighty weapon, forged when I first came to this world. A blade that knows no equal.”

“I don’t suppose that it’ll be easy, my lord. I assume there will be a test?”

“You will always be tested, my chosen. That is what life is. A series of trials that will mold you into what destiny demands of you. Our time grows short. Seek out the Ophidians as soon as possible, for fate will test my children soon enough. The world of the living awaits you. Do not fail me.”

With that, I felt as if I was being lifted up after being submerged in the sea, rising higher and higher as fast as I could be pulled. I saw a bright light above me, and I felt like I was about to breach the surface.

I awoke, coughing and wheezing and nearly falling off of the stone bed I had found myself in. My head pounded and my body ached. Most of my clothes besides a loin cloth had been removed so the healers could inspect my body without my armor getting in the way. They were startled by my sudden lucidity, and the one wearing the mask spoke to me after rising from their seat. They looked at me as if they had seen a ghost. Truth be told, they almost did. The masked person came up to me and placed their hand on my chest to lay me back down.

“Welcome back to the land of the living, warrior.”