Streaks of blazing purple light made great streaks across a sky painted a deep reddish-orange in the color of the end of summer. There were no clouds, and yet thunder resounded loudly enough to damage the hearing of those nearby. Ringing of the ears began as a great symphony and harbinger of the arrival of one who could cause such a thing. It was as though the very fabric of the world had begun to tear. A single point of light had appeared in the sky a few days prior, but while it had attracted attention it was not a novel thing. This was a world of swords and sorcery and as such the work of some magician or another could easily have been the cause of such a thing. There were weirder methods of training than the creation of an orb of light. It would, at a minimum, train one’s stamina and force the mind to remain vigilant while looking out for those who would inevitably come searching for the source of the light.

It didn’t help that most people in this region lived in great domed cities of diamond. While these were amazing for defense, they refracted light in such a way that it would be impossible to tell there were stars in the sky, much less detect a single tiny ball of light some miles away radiating ever-brighter, but still dimly, as the days passed.

Tonight was different. Tonight the ball had grown brighter than the sun. It was as though a pinprick from another world had begun at last to break the seal separating one world from another with all the force that entailed. Cracks of thunder resounded across the hills for many tens of miles. Lightning lit up the sky as though day had once again returned.

In a crescendo of blazing purple light, Henry awoke to the sound of screams. To be more precise it was a litany of voices making what seemed to be cries for mercy, pleas for forgiveness, and any other such futile prayer to the gods of this domain, and yet they fell silent just as quickly as Henry could hear them. Around him stood many blackened circles of fire whose flames slowly lapped at the fading purple sky lighting the landscape just enough for him to see the vague outlines of what had once been a few small and medium-sized structures. Just below his feet a sickening crunch was felt as his weight solidified in the world. It was the skull of a person, gender unknown, clutching a smaller one in both arms. The larger hunk of burned flesh vaguely resembling what was once a person was above and surrounding the smaller, which was in the fetal position, but the details quickly became unimportant in the next moment.

Henry wretched as his vision blurred, then he regained his sense of smell— charred flesh overpowered all. In a sense it was appetizing, he had not eaten in… hours? Days? He had lost all sense of time since taking out his pistol in another world, but even as he became aware of the hunger growing in his core, the salivation happening in his mouth was less a sign of hunger and more the innate defensive mechanism the body goes through before vomiting.

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As he wretched nothing came out, and he supposed nothing could. Once the compulsion to vomit had ceased only one thought remained. It circled in his head to overpower all the other voices and questions of how he had come to be in this situation: he didn’t want this. All he had wanted was death, why must these people suffer because of his actions taken without intent? Why must he continue to live in place of those infinitely more deserving? Henry could not understand these racing thoughts taking place in his healthy and unfragmented skull.

They swirled around his every logical thought, dancing away to prevent his analysis and returning the moment he began any sort of attempt to understand the situation. There was no thought to be had here, really. This was not something he wanted. This was not a situation he had intended, and the guilt of all the charred remains gnawed heavily at his consciousness. Tears streaming down his face, Henry stepped toward the largest source of flames— a large building best described in a guess as the ruins of a barn, though it was, of course, impossible to tell exactly what structure had once been present where these flaming ruins now stood.

As he stepped ever-forward towards the flames of his ambition, the question of why he was here burned ever-hotter. He pushed it aside and continued a steady pace forward; soon it would be over and this situation remedied as best it could be: at least the instigator of this carnage would be dead. As he approached the glowing orange flames his eyes at first began to water, tear glands unable to produce enough moisture to combat the heat. Then his skin began to feel not just warm but properly hot, then scalding. Scars would begin to form as the surface of his skin began at first to bubble, then to boil. Fumes began to radiate from his body, some evaporating moisture, some smoke from burning hairs.

Henry’s stomach rumbled in response to the smell of his own burning flesh, and then all at once the pain began. He had thought the pain of coming into being in this world had hurt, but he was wrong. Nothing could even begin to compare to this. It was a pain beyond any description could provide. It was a pain so great Henry stepped away from his intent and began to sprint. His mind stopped working, brain unable to do anything more than force his vocal chords to scream and his legs to run. Did he know in his mind that running was a bad idea since it would only fan the flames? Yes. It didn’t matter as his lizard-brain took over, shouting at him to run fast and then faster. He ran so fast his legs could no longer keep up with the momentum and he collapsed face-first into the soil.

Henry’s face tilled the earth for many dozens of feet, then he tumbled over face-forward in a full-scorpion, legs raised overtop as the stinger to the insect-like head and body of his torso, neck, and charred skull. The flames continued to burn far hotter than he could withstand, and as the pain overcame him he lost consciousness.