A dull ache greeted Davon on his return to consciousness, pulsing persistently from his left arm and spreading through the rest of his body.

He wasn’t unfamiliar with this kind of pain. After all, he had spent many days on the ship badly hungover. Last night must have been another wild time in the tavern with Rand… If the captain decided to call for shove off, today was going to be a long day. At least his head wasn’t pounding like it usually did on mornings like these. That was something to be happy about.

His eyes still closed, Davon groaned and reached instinctively for the water skin he kept on his bedside table. His fingers brushed against something cold and hard. By reflex, he tried to grab whatever this object was, but he only managed to push it farther away.

Seconds later, the sound of shattering glass echoed in his ears, rapidly waking him up. Realizing what he’d done, Davon immediately spiraled into panic. The last time he’d smashed something like this, the first mate had him scrubbing the deck for three days without a break. But maybe, if he found a decent enough excuse, he could get out of it this time.

Davon decided that assessing the damage would help in trying to formulate said excuse. He opened his eyes, but his sight was so blurry that he could barely even tell he was in a room. Gradually, as his eyes adjusted, he became aware that the window by his bed was open. Out of habit, he reached to close it.

He froze as realization struck him. What he was reaching for wasn’t the usual porthole, but a full-sized window.

His vision cleared further, bringing the whole room into focus. A simple bed and bedside table, a cabinet, and a large empty shelf. What drew his attention in particular were the stone walls and polished wood floor. When had he ever stayed in a tavern like this? It looked far too expensive for a sailor like him.

This made him even more focused on trying to remember how he’d ended up here. As he racked his mind, Davon pushed himself up into a sitting position. The moment he leaned on his left arm, an ache intensified around his left bicep. Davon looked down at the source of pain and saw a clean, linen rag wrapped around his arm. Inspecting it for a moment, he noticed runes on the rag, glowing a gentle gold.

It was then that the memories came flooding back.

Davon buried his head in his hands as he recalled Rand’s death, killing the fish-man, the javelin that almost took his life, being rescued by Grant, and the sudden plunge into blackness. He remembered the fury, the desperation, and the fear he had felt throughout the whole thing.

When the assault of memories ended, Davon was left sitting in the unknown room, completely spent. He closed his eyes again and tried to wrap his head around his situation, but his mind felt numb.

Then, out of nowhere, a cold determination gripped him. He would not lose himself in this sea of unfeeling. The dull ache in his body called to him, and he focused on it, using the pain as an anchor to the present moment.

Returning his attention to his surroundings, Davon realized he could hear the sound of footsteps outside the room. He fixed his eyes on the door, waiting with quiet anticipation. Moments later, the door opened, revealing a robed and masked individual.

“Ah, what a pleasant surprise,” a muffled, masculine voice exclaimed from behind the mask. “Even if it did come with broken glass.”

Davon looked closer at the individual, noting the many bones with runes hanging from his neck by a thick black thread. Talismans. His mask was featureless, aside from two holes for eyes, and his robe was equally simple. Davon had never seen anyone in a getup like this, and he found himself worried for a moment.

“I’m sure you have questions.” The man stepped into the room, closing the door behind him. “However, before I answer any of them, please allow me to check on your arm.”

Davon blinked in confusion, then nodded his head as calmly as he could manage. At the mention of ‘questions’, a storm of them had cluttered Davon’s mind, making it difficult to decide which one to ask first. Some extra time to organize his thoughts was more than welcome.

“To spare you a few questions: you are in the Walden’s Hold Revenant Guild, you were brought here by Grant, and you have been unconscious for three days,” the man explained while he carefully unwrapped the rag around Davon’s bicep, revealing a faint scar underneath. “Huh. Healed already? You have taken to the healing spell exceptionally well…”

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The man seemed to fall into deep thought for a moment before focusing his attention back on Davon. Without warning, he tapped the scar, causing Davon to flinch and pull his arm away reflexively. “Did that hurt?”

Davon shook his head, confused.

“Hm. And while you’re sitting still, do you feel any pain?”

Davon nodded. “A dull ache throughout my entire body. Uh, who are you?”

“Doctor Yurren.” Taking a step back, the man raised a hand to his chin. “Interesting… fully healed, but the side effects are still present. A sign of amazing aptitude, but not perfect…”

“I’m… sorry, Doctor, but what are you talking about?” Davon asked, deciding that a simple approach was the best way to answer all of the questions swirling around his head.

“Your aptitude for handling Reliquaries,” Yurren replied. “I have never seen a patient take to one of my healing spells quite that fast before, and since they’re cast through my Reliquary, aptitude plays a part in their effectiveness.”

Davon was dumbstruck. He had an aptitude for Reliquaries? How had he never realized this?

Then again, why would he have known? He couldn’t think of a single situation in his life where such an aptitude would matter. After all, only Revenants could wield Reliquaries, and Davon was far from a Revenant. He was just an ordinary sailor.

“Anyway, the ache is a normal side effect of the accelerated healing process. It’s a little annoying, but it won’t stop you from functioning as usual,” Yurren said as he turned for the door. “Don’t go anywhere. I’ll find Grant. He’ll want to hear about this.”

Yurren stepped out of the room and closed the door behind him, leaving Davon utterly baffled. As silence filled the air, however, Davon’s mind drifted to an entirely different subject. He thought of all the times he’d spent laughing with Rand, toiling together under the hot sun to raise or lower the mast. In a single moment, the life he had built and cherished had been destroyed.

But it wasn’t all lost. If Davon had understood the doctor’s words correctly, there was a hint of an opportunity waiting for him.

The opportunity to become greater than the monsters that had shattered his life, and to bring retribution to them.

The opportunity to become a Revenant.

The more Davon thought about it, the more it made sense. Each spiraling thought was like another cold blast of vengeance, driving away the numbness in Davon’s heart. The pain of losing his best friend and crew crept back, but he didn’t allow it to bring him down. There would be time to mourn later.

Right now, it was time to grasp any and every chance to strike back at those monsters.

“It’s good to see you alive, boy.” Grant’s booming voice startled Davon, who had barely heard the man’s heavy gait approaching. “Wasn’t sure if you’d make the journey.”

He crossed his arms, staring at Davon so intently that the sailor dropped his eyes.

“The doctor said I had a high Reliquary aptitude,” Davon said, looking down at his hands.

“Yeah, he mentioned.”

“Think I could do it?”

The question seemed to echo in the air. Davon raised his eyes to meet Grant’s again, and the two men stared at each other in silence. Finally, Grant broke the stalemate with a sigh.

“Yes.” The old Revenant’s tone was as serious as his expression. “But it’s not a decision you should make lightly.”

“Well, what else am I going to do, Grant? Can’t go back to the ship, can I?” Davon snapped, his tone sharper than he intended it to be.

“No, you can’t.” Grant sighed again. “But I can’t let you make this decision without a fair warning.”

Davon stared down the giant man with as much conviction as he could muster. “What warning?”

“Being a Revenant doesn’t come without drawbacks. Every time you die… it takes a toll. Trust me, you’ll never get used to drawing that last breath before death takes you.” Grant ran a hand across his neck subconsciously. “Resurrection, even more so. It takes a lot to come back from the dead. Some Revenants can’t handle it, and eventually snap.”

Davon noticed a hint of sadness behind Grant’s gaze as he spoke.

“From what I’ve seen of you, Davon, you’ve got what it takes. Not a lot of regular people stare down a monster and manage to kill it. Even fewer take a hit from one and live to tell the tale,” Grant admitted. “So, if you’re certain you’re ready for this, I’ll vouch for you with the guild.”

Davon took a moment to think. Most stories of Revenants presented them as immortal slayers of monsters. They kept the dangers of the world outside the walls, and thus kept the everyday folk safe, all without the worry of permanent death. He’d never considered that dying might have real consequence for Revenants. It was a sobering thought.

Then a sudden image of Rand’s laughing face flashed across his mind, and Davon steeled his gaze.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m certain.”

“Good.” Grant allowed himself a momentary smile before continuing. “And you’re in luck. We have another two candidates here in Walden’s Hold, both from your home island. I’m sure you three will get on like a house on fire.”

“Oh? Who are they?” Davon’s curiosity won out, pushing aside other important questions.

“The first one’s a boy from the Ulrich family, Kai. I think you’re probably familiar with him,” Grant replied.

Davon raised his eyebrows. While he didn’t know Kai on a personal level, the man was often involved in the same tavern brawls as Rand.

Grant went on, “Doubt you’d know the other, Lyla. An orphan with a particular talent for spell craft. Either way, you’ll get to know them plenty well during training. For now, get some more rest. We start tomorrow.”

Davon watched the old Revenant leave the room in silence. Once the door was closed, he allowed himself to fall back onto the bed.

What happened on the docks still hadn’t fully sunk in, and he was happy to let that be the case for a while longer. At least until he was trained and capable enough to bring vengeance down upon as many monsters as he could.

For the moment, however, he decided to quiet those thoughts and listen to Grant’s advice. As soon as he found a comfortable enough position, sleep came to claim his exhausted mind. He didn’t even try to fight the comfort of this specific blackness.