Maddin did not fear the void.

When he finally died — died completely — he would embrace oblivion.

But when the disembodied voice boomed across the infinite dark plane that served as the membrane between reality and nothingness, asking if he feared the void, Maddin replied, “Yes.”

Because this death would not be his final death. This death was planned.

And his affirmative answer would deliver him to his objective.

“Which world would you like your new life to inhabit?” the voice asked next.

A visual accompanied this question, a series of rotating globes lined up in the dark. Maddin hovered in their collective orbit like some tiny comet prepared to strike. Six in all, they featured a variety of terrain, one nearly covered in ocean, another all sand.

But Maddin already knew his choice. The center-left world, with its black south pole blighting the otherwise idyllic planet, would be his destination. He indicated his selection with a raised finger and the voice replied, “Aldersi.”

The other options dissolved. Aldersi rotated until its south pole faced Maddin. A great volcano formed its own continent there. A miles-wide vent exposed the putrid, green magic stored within. The whole of it had the appearance of a terrible eye, its emerald pupil fixed on Maddin.

“You will be lich,” the voice informed.

Maddin knew this, accepted it. For the rest of his life, he would be dead. But in lingering death, he would be granted certain powers that would help him achieve his goal.

His revenge.

The planet grew as it rushed up to meet him. While the distance shrank, the voice said, “You will be granted Abilities, dictated by your Class. A soulscan will determine your path.”

Before he could inquire, Maddin felt the passing of some invisible force through his body. It appraised him, he could feel it rummaging in his thoughts, through his scarred soul.

When the process completed, the voice explained, “You will be Berserker. Tempestuous, implacable, animated by fury.”

“And my Abilities?”

Maddin felt swelling in his muscles. He lifted his arms to watch his biceps inflate. Pain fired through his body as its musculature enhanced with an infusion of magic. “Your strength is thrice that of a normal man’s. Your tolerance for pain likewise, though you will feel it as a background hum for your remaining days — which may be plentiful, as you may live as long as your wits permit. Be smart, improve your strength. Be foolish and be delivered unto the void.”

Aldersi filled his vision now. Maddin descended through its atmosphere, felt the air streaming past his nude form. As he fell through the mephitic vapor that manteled the black volcano, he saw that his body turned green, its skin becoming translucent, the muscle beneath it luminescent.

He dropped into the crater, straight into the center of the vent. Below him, a chamber filled with sickly green magic glowed, like his own body.

In his final moments of freefall, he felt a curious power in his hands. As he balled them into fists, a message was delivered directly into his thoughts like an echo of the earlier voice.

New Ability – Fury Burst: perform six rapid-fire punches at double strength.

Refractory period: 1 hour.

Maddin plunged into the pool of magic. It felt like gelatin encased him. As he swam for the surface, he felt others writhing in the magic beside him, struggling for air they didn’t yet realize would be worthless to them. A lich needs no oxygen, no food, no water, no sleep.

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Working his limbs tirelessly, he made his way to the crater wall where he found a ledge to perch on. He rose onto his legs and peered across the vast, green pool undulating with other transmigrated souls. Pathetic, he thought. If not for Reegan, he would not have come.

But that bastard would pay dearly before Maddin gave himself up to the void.

He craned his neck to peer toward the heavens. The dark cloud overhead reflected the green glow of magic. Viridian flashes of lightning shone as brilliant, crooked lines like cracks in the sky. This world was broken indeed if it admitted a soul as vile as Reegan’s.

Or Maddin’s own, for that matter, so filled with hate as to preclude any redemption.

He turned to the wall, scanning its many crags. He mounted it and began to climb, reaching a hole that emptied out the side of the volcano. He fit himself through its narrow opening and slipped down the slope of the mountain.

All around him, other lich souls screamed as they glided down the smooth, obsidian formation. Below, the perimeter of the island appeared to be dotted with settlements. Ramshackle cities thrown up to address the influx of souls, Maddin figured.

He directed himself to the smallest of these and after an hour’s uncomfortable descent, arrived in a bed of crimson grass growing at the base of the volcano. As he stood, he glanced back to watch the ceaseless stream of Aldersi initiates tumbling down the glassy mountainside. An endless flood of undead cowards clinging desperately to existence. He wondered for how long they’d been coming, how diluted the native population had become. A bountiful world spoiled by those whose own wasn’t enough to sate their avarice.

Then again, this scourge was brought down upon the Aldersians by the very gods they worshipped, who struck a deal with the greater voidgods to accept souls for power. To what end, Maddin didn’t know, nor did he care. What he learned of Aldersi from the journals Reegan left behind was limited to actionable knowledge. Only what he needed to know to get by.

To navigate Aldersi in his quest to track his foe.

A whistling tune drifted through the air, pulled Maddin’s attention to the left where a wizened, grizzled man sat on a boulder puffing from his wooden pipe. The man stopped, cleared his throat, returned Maddin’s gaze. He smiled while sliding off his boulder. “Greetings!” Jovial, bordering on sarcasm. “Welcome to Aldersi, Second.”

As the man approached, Maddin echoed, “Second?”

“What we call you lot, green folk pouring out of Elusis with naught but the common tongue to assimilate you.”

Maddin drew a foot back, squeezed his fists at his sides, prepared to inflict his Fury Burst on this overfamiliar gentleman should the need arise.

“Relax,” the man said, “none here will want to be hurtin’ you. Merely take advantage.”

“And how’s that?”

The man stopped some four feet from Maddin. From here, Maddin could see the hazel color of his beady eyes, as well as the impish glint shining within them. “Deliching potions, mostly. Provided at the cost of servitude. A’course, you naive lot aren’t aware the true value of your lich magic, you’re just desperate to be wrapped in normal, warm flesh again.”

“I’ve some idea. Enough to hold onto mine.”

The man’s eyes narrowed in study of Maddin, who sensed the Aldersian’s budding interest. “Something funny about you.”

“Trust that there is nothing funny about me.”

The man grinned. “That’s it right there! Nothing like a typical Second. Sniveling, feckless bunch. Some brand of wizard in their former lives, but I get the feeling you never dabbled in magic back where you come from, hm?”

“I’m here, aren’t I?”

“Ah, but you come with purpose! And purpose can lead a man to places he never expected to go. Such as the demimonde of magic, to reach another world entirely!” The man cackled. Maddin hated the sound.

“Look, whatever it is you need cheap labor to help you with, I’m willing to work. I don’t want deliching potion, I work for money.”

The man flicked his gaze to Maddin’s nude body. “Maybe an outfit first, hm? Provided as an advance.” From his robe, he produced a set of clothes and tossed them at Maddin.

As he dressed, Maddin asked, “What is your trade?”

“Bard,” the man answered. “Belladin the Bard.” He bowed while introducing himself.

“Bard? Of what use would I be to a bard? Surely you can manage your own cooking and cleaning, caring for your steed. More importantly, what bard can afford help on his meager earnings?”

“A partner’s more what I’m searching for.”

Maddin scoffed as he fed his arm into the shirtsleeve. The clothes were plain, shabby, used, but sufficient. “I don’t think so.”

Belladin strode forth with urgency, causing Maddin to resume his defensive posture. Raising his hands in a gesture of innocence, Belladin pitched, “You underestimate the value of a good story. A gripping yarn can change the world, Second. And if you allow me to share yours, I’ll show you everything you need to know about our world.” He lowered his head and grinned. “Everything you need to know to carry out your purpose.”

It was Maddin’s turn to study the bard. He was shorter, slighter, on the far side of middle-aged, with an air of mischief and desperation. Scrappy. Probably reckless. But for the moment, potentially useful.

Maddin turned his gaze to the village a short distance out. It was a cluster of cheaply assembled buildings with a crowd of people passing between them. “There a place to grab a drink over there?”

“Of course,” said Belladin, “follow me.”