He arrived, yes, but where?
His mind was still recovering from what seemed like an eternity of torment. What had he experienced?
Only after what seemed like an eternity could he finally begin to think.
Was it a nightmare, a neurological illness? Was he dead, now and in the afterlife, even though he had never believed it?
What was those visions what did they mean and what about the light that saved him? Was it God ?
He never believe in any religion as he had been an atheist all his life.
Nonetheless, he had to admit that what he expereinced felt very divine, very Judeo-Christian like. As if the light was showing him the way parting through the darkness.
What did it all mean having that kind of dream at the twilight of his life?
Was he that afraid of death?
Did he lied to himself into thinking that he made his peace with his mortality and was content with it.
Was it really a dream? It felt too vivid for one and how long was he unconscious for ? It felt like he spent eons in those visions. Witnessing mulitiples lifetimes birth and death of entire galaxies and still like not even a minute had passed.
He was in shock. He had lived on Earth for nearly ninety years, and yet, in this single night (was it really a night?), he had acquired more knowledge than he ever could have acquired. But this knowledge seemed to elude him, or was it still buried within him, too vast for his mind, waiting to be unlucky?
So many questions remained unanswered, but first he had to wake up and open his eyes.
But after trying, he realized he couldn't. He couldn't feel his body anymore either.
What was happening now? Was it sleep paralysis, or had his brain been so traumatized that he was acting this way?
Panic began to creep in as a terrifying thought crossed his mind. Perhaps this was a continuation of those visions, and now he would spend an indefinite amount of time locked inside his mind, and this time, no light would come to save him.
Fortunately, his reason prevailed and he began to calm down, but before he could think of anything else, it seemed his mind was still too tired as he didn't even feel himself slipping into a tender sleep.
When he regained consciousness a second time, he realized he still couldn't open his eyes or feel his body. But this time, he was less anxious. It was certainly worrisome, but he prioritized gathering information about what he could assess about his surroundings.
That's when he felt it. The familiar warmth of the light that saved his sanity and his life. Whether he still dreamed or not, at least it was a constant. What was also a constant was that nagging sensation, the darkness, the visions, the temptations, the whispers and screams he recognized, all lurking at the edges of his mind, constantly attacking his psyche as if to devour it, along with the shield he had built to protect himself from it.
Real or not, it was extremely distressing for him as he fell asleep uncontrollably.
Fortunately, his survival instinct, which guided him on his journey to get as close as possible to the light, seemed to be the right one. As dangerous as the light's burning temperature and its gravitational pull were, he also felt a nourishing power emanating from it, strengthening and healing his damaged psyche.
Little by little, sensations returned to his body, first his heartbeat, then his hands and feet. Baby steps, baby steps, he told himself, one thing at a time. He felt good, better than ever, as if he were constantly floating in warm water.
Then his hearing returned. Distant noises, voices he didn't understand, sometimes laughter, sometimes music. He felt his body gradually strengthen and grow, until he felt cramped, as if the space he was in was becoming too small.
So he moved again and again, trying to find more space if there was any left, and finally, his efforts seemed rewarded when he felt a sudden force pushing beneath his feet, as if to guide him out.
It was ectic; he heard screams and shouts. He felt resistance at the top of his head, and the force at the base of his feet intensifying, pushing him outward. Little by little, he felt his head pass through the opening he was emerging from, until, with a final effort from whoever was pushing, his entire head, then his entire body, passed through in one smooth, fluid motion.
Then a pain he didn't remember feeling rose in his lungs, so strong it made him scream and cry, making him forget to assess his surroundings. It was only after a moment that he regained his senses and finally opened his eyes for the first time in what seemed like an eternity.
The first thing he saw was a giant face, probably female, seemingly human, and it was too much, he was exhausted from the whole ordeal of his escape, he had pushed and pushed towards his freedom for a long time and now it was time for a well-deserved rest.
When he woke up and opened his eyes, he was so happy to have regained his sight that he wanted to get up immediately and start dancing. As he tried to sit up without much thoughts, without succeeding, he saw his arms, so small, with even smaller hands and fingers, like a baby's. How cute, he thought at first.
How cute ?
Wait, what? Are those arms mine as he was flailing them around?
Wait, what!
What's happening right now makes no sense!
Or did it...
On the contrary, it made perfect sense. The fact that he didn't feel his body at first, the time he spent in the dark seeming endless. Everything else did, too.
So he was born again.
What a stroke of luck! To be honest, he felt incredibly happy at that moment. Who hasn't dreamed of living a second life? How lucky can you be? Now, all that mattered was knowing where he was.
The days passed slowly but surely, without him knowing where he was. The fashion of the people here was familiar and yet foreign, for he had never heard of any place on earth dressing in this way.
The house where he was born into seemed deeply in tune with the Renaissance era: the people dressed like peaple of this time, and the interior decoration of the room I was in was largely of Gothic architecture.
It seemed my parents were nobles or pretended to be i did not know yet as from their clothes and the way the others behaved around them and dressed, it indicated they were their servants.
Apparently, I have lucked out in this life as i have been born into a high social class.
Yet the choices of clothes worried me: it could only mean that i either time travelled or i was not on Earth anymore.
If I could reincarnate, who's to say I was still in the same plane of reality I knew?
Time passed like a routine, with very little change and even fewer visits from my parents, not that I was complaining, I even preferred it that way.
What didn't change, however, was the ever-present presence of those dark visions threatening to return if I ever relaxed, and the reassuring presence of the nearby beacon of light.
So I spent my days tempering my mental strength.
I never wanted to feel as weak again as i was in the journey into this new life, at the mercy of forces I couldn't begin to understand yet.
So I reflected on what the little knowledge I had learned and what I could improve on.
It was the epiphany I had, the one inspired by the light cleaving through the darkness: "Strength comes from within you, with it you nourish your light and strengthen it. With it you will repel the darkness from you and the one around you".
He didn't yet know what it all meant; it was a concept so vast and profound that he had only had a glimpse of it, and that under specific circumstances.
That was questions for a later time as for now he would focus on what was in front of him and what he could do at present.
So he began to temper his mind relentlessly by lowering what he called his mental shield. First he blocked as much as he could the light he was so close to and immediately he was attacked by the visions and whispers of promises of sweet salvation.
When he was on the verge of collapse he welcome the light shine upon him again basking in it's nurishing light, but as much it was nurishing it also burned his very soul. He would endure to his upmost limits before mentally shielding himself again.
He was awkward at first in his manipulation of what felt like an untangible shield but with repetition comes perfection, as such he could feel himself growing stronger by the day.
Months had passed, and he could now almost withstand both what he called psychic attacks and the heat of light in its natural, unshielded state.
It was a big step forward for him and a reward for his hard work, as he devoted himself to it every waking moment with determination and obsession.
What he had experienced, what he now understood as the moment of his death, still resonated in his head and would remain a scar for the rest of his life.
He knew that he would never truly heal nor ever forget what he had lived through. His soul had come so very close to its anhilation or something even worse.
He had unconsciously sensed that surrendering to this darkness meant neither death, nor freedom from the pain it caused, nor the bliss promised by that tempting voice, but an eternity of damnation, and so he had resisted with a tear forever marked on his soul.
This had changed him on a fundamental level because he knew that with such forces existing in this reality he found himself in, he could never be the joyful and hopeful person he had been in his past life.
He nevertheless remains optimistic about this new life with the opulence he saw in his surroundings.
Everything exuded luxury and wealth. He had numerous servants who looked after him with deference, as if he were a member of the royal family.
With such social status, what he had to go through to get there would soon be a distant memory and he felt eager to learn more about this new world he lived in.
Fortunately, he didn't have to wait too long because when he saw his father walk through the doors of his room to greet him, he understood that he was probably going to experience for the first time the prison that had become his room.
Indeed, as it was the first time his father had come to see him since his birth, his presence could only signify the importance of the event.
It was the first time since he was born that he had left his room and if he thought his room was luxurious, it was nothing compared to what he saw now.
However, a sense of unease began to set in, a certain anxiety that emanated from certain details he saw here and there.
Things he didn't quite recognize, but which nevertheless seemed strangely familiar. It was as if something he remembered, but his mind had also erased from his memory, as if it were a trauma.
Little by little, his anxiety grew as his brain began to piece together the information it had, guiding him toward a conclusion he refused to accept.
Unfortunately, reality is often cruel and as they approached what appeared to be a balcony, with thunderous cheers and shouts echoing that's when he saw it.
The reason for this unease, this creeping anxiety, the despair, the denial of reality.
A monstrous machine as beautiful as it is deadly. Something he admired and never wanted to see in his life. An omen of the worst kind, a living proof of all your worst nightmare. Something you prayed to never encounter from close or afar, something that should stay a fictionnal myth. An herald of something even grimmer and dark than it's existance:
A Titan.
With it the realisation of the place where he would live this new life: the universe of warhammer.
FUCK