This time, consciousness returns to me like a lightning bolt. My body jolts, and my eyes shoot open. A sudden need to cough, to vomit, to expel something from my lungs overwhelms me and I start to spasm violently. Whatever is causing this feeling, I’m unable to actually do anything about it. My legs knock into a wall of some sort quite close to me. The space I find myself in is dark, pitch-black, and I seem to be suspended in viscous fluid. I reach up to my face in a panic, and my hand bumps into a mask covering me from nose to jaw with a thick, corrugated tube leading out of it. I can feel the tube continuing down my throat as well.

The urge to get this thing out of myself fills my mind. Panic floods my grey matter as synapses fire into overdrive. I grab onto the tube, about to yank it out and away from me, until some dim portion of my brain reminds me that it’s likely the only thing keeping me breathing, submerged as I am. Frantically I fumble around in the blackness, slowed by the fluid, and feel a glass-like enclosure surrounding me. Am I in some sort of test tube? The thought flutters through my brain, vague and unimportant in my current state. The need to get out and to expel the things invading my body is overwhelming.

[Odd.]

Continuing in my frantic search, I reach above me to feel another tube, or maybe a bundle of cables. Following it up with my hands, I find it terminates in the ceiling a few inches above the top of my head, right next to the corrugated breathing tube. Reaching back down, I find the other end, and freeze. My panic ramps up even higher. The other end of the cables lead to a small metal plate, embedded directly into the base of my skull.

[What is this place?]

Faintly, I hear what sounds like an industrial alarm blaring for a moment, then a much louder mechanical thunk echoes like a physical wave through the liquid encasing me. Suddenly, the cables in my hand detach from my neck, and the tube comes away from my face mask. I start to fall, the fluid around me draining away below me, but I grab onto the cables with my other hand as well and haul myself up. My head breaks the surface of the fluid, and I take in a shuddering breath through the tube still in my throat.

As the fluid drains away, my feet come into contact with the curved bottom of my glass prison, my heels sliding along it to hit the metallic edge of a circular hole. Shakily, I lower myself until my naked backside sits on the other side of the opening and then I fall sideways against the glass wall. I let go of the cables and reach down to rip the mask away from my face, then slowly, agonizingly, pull the tube from my throat as I gag repeatedly. I can feel something slipping out from both my esophagus and my airways, and with a disgustingly wet pop the tubes pull free. My body is wracked with wet, hacking coughs. I definitely got some of that gunk in my lungs when the breathing tube disengaged.

I jolt in surprise again when a stilted, automated voice, clearly audible now that the surrounding fluid has drained away, reaches me through the opening below.

“Sidäos riennfe sutansina ne’gwinnân de. Hwēfanna bedna purge vodfinne. Yosadnna reset ne’bwanna din. Warning: sednís de hwēfanna vessels nin’bwe purge process. Error: system reset fúntanna. Blockage nin cortïnwa containment vessel. Clínte’ya nin cortïnwa disposal chute. Please manually sednín blockage to continue automated reset procedures.”

An amber warning light flashes weakly into being beyond the glass confines of my prison. I take in a shuddering breath and slowly exhale, trying to regain control over my frayed nerves. What the hell is going on! What the fuck language was that? Why is only some of it in English?!

[Mortal, are you injured?]

My breath hitches in my throat as another voice filters into my mind. No, not a voice. There’s no impression of sound like with my last—and only other—mental conversation. It’s as if the words were imprinted directly into my brain, all at once, bypassing my senses entirely. “...Theramiel?” I croak weakly, “Is that you?” I latch onto the possibility that maybe I’m not alone in this nightmare.

[Indeed. This is most unusual.]

After ages, or more likely a few minutes, I manage to sit up with my back pressed against the glass wall of the test tube containing me. No, not a tube. It’s more bulbous, not quite a sphere in shape. My back is arched outwards and my neck forwards in an uncomfortable position, so I gently lower myself again to lie awkwardly on the cold metal lip around the open hatch. Through the intermittent glow of the warning light, I’m able to see beyond the confines of my prison and I take in my surroundings.

The room outside seems large, and is still quite dark aside from the flashing amber light. I can barely make out what looks like additional containment vessels on either side of me, a vague shape visible within the one to my right. Ahead of me, in front of the vessels, is a metal walkway that continues left and right beyond my line of sight. Looking below, through the only opening in my prison, I can see an open metal iris around a very dark hole. There’s a bit of a gap between the bottom of the vessel and the iris.

While I wait to catch my breath between coughs, I try to collect myself. “What the fuck is hap–” I’m interrupted as hacking coughs wrack my lungs again. Right, I think ‘aloud’, let’s try this again. What the fuck, Theramiel? What’s happening!?

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Silence. Theramiel, you there? Again, nothing. “...Theramiel?” I gasp.

[I am with you, Mortal. Are you injured?]

Wait, can you not hear my thoughts anymore? I wait for a moment with no response. Fuck you Theramiel! What the actual fuck!? What did you do to me? What the fuck is wrong with you and your piece-of-shit god!? Raised with care my fucking ass! I was promised sword and sorcery not grimdark body horror! More silence. That’s probably a good thing, I guess. “I don-n-n’ think I’m injured,” I continue aloud, in a weak voice. “But I-I’m definitely not–” more hacking. “Not w-well. Wha’ hap-ppened?”

[I know not, Mortal, this is most unusual. Have you retained your memories?]

Yeah, I think to myself, and thank fuck for that. You didn’t even give me a chance to talk about that part before you kicked me here! I pause then, focusing on a particular word that Theramiel definitely keeps saying with a capital letter. Any excuse to take my mind off this new horror story.

“Um, Th-theramie-el? You keep…kee-ep calling me Mortal. Do you no–” cough “–not know my name?” There’s a long pause, the silence filled with nothing but the sound of my slow, wetly rasping breaths.

[You were to become a new being. I did not think it of much import.]

I do not respond, stunned at the sheer audacity.

[Or perhaps you could choose a new one.]

…Damn, what an asshole…

[You’re familiar with the concept.]

“Wow, you know tha-at but didn’t bother to l-learn my name?” I let out a weak huff of air and wrinkle my nose in irritation. At least speaking is getting easier. “No, my name’s Sarai– No, wait, I-I mean it’s Sarai.” I blink, nonplussed. “That’s no-ot my name. Why…why can’t I remember my name?”

[Sarai is the name of the Heroine, your name.]

That…that can’t be right. Sarai isn’t my true name, the one I chose, that I know for sure. But it was the ‘fantasy’ name I always used for my Dungeons and Dragons character or in RPGs. What the hell is going on…soul of a hero, I guess? Fucking bullshit. I huff again, rolling my eyes, and haul myself upright. My head bangs weakly against the curved upper wall of the containment vessel, and I grunt in frustration. Tears fill my eyes and I take a few moments to breathe and calm down.

“Whatever. Just don't keep calling me Mortal,” I gripe.

[As you say, M– Sarai.]

Casting my gaze down, I can see that the metal iris below me is still open, but if I’m careful I can probably step on the lip around it. Anything to get out of this glass prison. I’ve never been terribly affected by claustrophobia but I need to get out. I warily gauge the distance down, it’s perhaps just a bit longer than I am tall. Slipping slightly as I’m still coated in whatever fluid was used to suspend me, I turn around to lower myself down, rather than just jumping. As I try to transition from supporting myself with my elbows to my hands, I lose my grip and fall with a yelp.

My heels hit the metal lip below, my upper back and shoulders slamming into the other side with a dull clang, and I wince in pain. That’s definitely going to bruise. My limbs still shaking slightly, I quickly move to the side, away from the hole. I spend a moment to recover my strength, then cautiously stand up with a glance upwards. Okay, maybe more than a bit further than I am tall. Or am I shorter now? It feels like I’m beginning to dissociate. My brain is desperate to ponder something as mundane as my height.

Shivering, I stumble a single step to a metal railing in front of me. I use both arms to support myself and take another moment to look around the room I’m in. I find myself standing in front of a T-shaped metal walkway, a solid-looking door with a complicated locking mechanism almost directly in front of me at the base of the T. Above it, that flashing amber warning light continues to spin almost angrily, emitting the only illumination. Next to the door appears to be some sort of control station with a number of buttons, knobs, switches and gauges. Metal pipes of differing sizes exit the console and flow in various directions into the wall and around the room. I turn around to take in my former prison, but before I turn fully I freeze, my eyes widening in horror at the sight.

Now looking through only one glass wall, I can see more clearly into the other containment vessels that neighbor my own. There are at least eight vessels in total, fading into the darkness in a row. It’s difficult to make out between the flashes of the warning light, but I can vaguely see figures huddled in the fetal position, at least in those vessels that aren’t cracked and broken. Each is suspended in the same viscous fluid that still covers me in a cold, slimy layer with a tube attached to their faces and a thick bundle of cables exiting at the base of every skull. I reach up to slowly feel the goop-coated metal plate at the base of my own bald head.

I shudder, unnerved, and turn away. “Any chance you know where we are?” I ask in a timid voice.

[I know not your location. I am…not present, yet connected to you. This is unusual, but it has been some time since I last graced the Mortal Realms directly. What is– Hmm…this is most unusual indeed. A moment, Mortal, Sarai, while I investigate.]

“Wait, hold on, Theramiel. It’s hard to follow when you send so much all at once.” I take a moment to collect my thoughts. “When’s the last time you, ah, ‘graced the mortal realms’?” Silence greets me, of course, but there’s no response from my divine passenger either. “Figures,” I grumble.

Shivers continue to wrack my body as I gaze around. I don’t want to be alone in this mad science lab, unsure when Dr. Frankenstein might return to continue his insane experiments. In front of me, below the walkway, the room disappears into darkness but I can make out the vague outlines of pipes and tubes and more esoteric machinery below the metal mesh. The only exit I can see is that door ahead of me. I need to get out of here. I really don’t like the sound of a ‘disposal chute’ or ‘purge process’. I need to get out and figure out whatever the hell is going on. I glance down at my body, slick with that cold, viscous goop, while rubbing my arms for warmth. And find some clothes.

Mentally preparing myself, I try to heave over the railing onto the walkway, but vastly misjudge the strength in my limbs. I fall back on my heels, but the goop still coats them and my traitorous feet slide right out from under me. Time seems to slow and my eyes grow wide as I tumble backwards. The railing slips from my slick fingers. Arms flail wildly. The gut-wrenching sensation of freefall. Then the back of my head hits the lip of the disposal chute and stars burst in my vision. I reflexively crumple into a ball, which is the exact worst reaction. I find myself quickly swallowed in darkness, the dim flashing of the amber light fading into a pinprick above before I vanish into blackness.