Death had claimed him; that much he could recall. How long had he been dead, though? It was hard to tell; the passage of time eluded him. However, the memory of his descent into this abyss remained painfully vivid—a cruel execution by crucifixion, flames devouring him as once-trusted allies cast torches beneath his feet.

The inferno raged, encircling him in a frenzied dance of chaos. In the blink of an eye, the Underworld materialized around him—an ominous realm cloaked in darkness and engulfed by flames. Here, the tortured wails of the departed mingled with the sardonic laughter of devils.

As Axorivim began to speak, Jack Nightbane, as iron-willed as he was, couldn't help but feel a hint of fear in the presence of the lord of all devils sitting comfortably atop his stone throne. His visage hidden beneath a hood, only two crimson dots pierced the obscurity as they observed the drakarian. A shifting cloak of shadow draped from the throne's edges, giving it an eerie life of its own. The lord of devils was twice the size of Jack and infinitely more powerful; the drakarian had no chance whatsoever. 

"Jack Nightbane," Axorivim's voice resonated like the rumbling of distant thunder. "You have lived a life of chaos and deceit, a life that has led you to my doorstep." 

"I have," he admitted, unable to meet Axorivim's gaze. 

Axorivim leaned forward, his bright red eyes piercing through the fire. "I offer you a chance at redemption, a path to a new beginning," he hissed. "You shall return to the world of the living, but not without a purpose. You shall be my agent, my collector of shards." 

‘What the hell?’ Jack's black scales seemed to tighten around him as he absorbed the gravity of the offer. Could this finally have been his chance to get back at those bastards from the Crow Syndicate? To be face to face with him once more? He could already see it—tearing their throats out, hanging them upside-down to spill their blood, and letting the crows feast upon their still-living flesh.

"What's the catch?" he finally replied, mustering enough courage to look Axorivim in the eyes; his sudden feeling of rage blackened out any fear he felt. 

Axorivim's lips curled into a chilling smile. "You shall bear my mark," he declared, raising a hand that seemed to pulse with dark energy. With a mere flourish, a brand leaped from his fingers and attached itself to the drakarian's neck, smoldering onto his skin. The pain was excruciating, but Jack knew it was a small price to pay for a second chance at life. As the pain faded, Axorivim's words echoed in Jack's mind, like the whisper of a sinister promise. "Collect the shards, Jack. Do this, and your sins shall be forgiven." 

"That's it?" he said, without realizing that he was branded before he could give out an answer. 

Stolen story; please report.

"That is all. Oh, and one more thing: when I transport you to the world of the living, you will encounter three others in a similar plight. They shall be your comrades; endeavor not to slay them. They shall impart the rest of the tale."

With that, Axorivim flourished his hand once more; a faint blue light surrounded Jack Nightbane, with the appearance of a glowing circle inscribed with runes beneath his bare feet. As the light of the magic circle grew brighter and brighter, the dark-scaled drakarian closed his dragon-like yellow eyes. The cacophonous sounds of the flames and screams quickly died out, replaced by the singing of birds and the aroma of grass and fresh air. It took moments for his eyes to adjust, revealing a forest of tall oak trees. 

‘I’m back. Finally.’ The sky above him was a light blue as he peered upward. It had been much darker the last time he was here, Jack recalled. Much warmer too.

He started marching; first things first, he needed to find shelter and food. He stopped at a cliff, peering off the edge; he could see a farm in the distance maybe a mile or two away, he concluded. It was a large two-story wooden house built around a flowing river, almost resembling a water castle. It had a narrow wooden bridge that led to the entrance.

‘Just right.’ Jack thought, as he took another step thinking he’d stepped on solid ground. But suddenly, the ground beneath disappeared, and he was sent into a violent roll down the cliff. He rolled across a surface of hard dirt and rock. He heard a loud crack as he felt a sharp pain enter his flank. The ground was rapidly approaching before suddenly, it had hit him. He landed on his side, amidst a cluster of bushes and trees, his body aching all over. Somehow he had made it in one piece, or so he thought; noticing the bloodied branch sticking out of his body. He gripped his hand tightly around it. With a sharp turn of his wrist he snapped off the part that stuck out.

A crooked smile appeared on his face, as pain jabbed at him from the wound followed by the spilling of more blood. “Well, that’s one way to start a journey.” He gasped, with a hand on the wound.

Jack then heard the sound of something flowing nearby. Perhaps a lake. He could clean his wound there and maybe even take a break. He got up, the bushes crunched beneath his feet as he stepped out into a clearing. To his surprise, three strangers equipped with adventuring gear and weapons suddenly appeared before him. Instinctively, he reached for his back. ‘Shit.’ He had been sent there unarmed. As the three exchanged glances, they looked back at Jack and drew their weapons.

This was it; he had just arrived and he was already going to be sent back! Then, the towering man on the right raised an eyebrow, eyeing the brand on Jack's neck.

Lowering his shortsword, the man asked, “Where did you get it? That mark.”

The other two, their faces flushed with surprise, also gazed at the man, then quickly back at Jack. They followed suit by lowering their weapons.

They all intently stared at Jack as the tall man continued, “You tell me now, friend, or you will find it very hard to breathe after I’ve cut into your throat.” He pointed his blade back at Jack as he spat out the words.

“Well.” The drakarian began.