Mat awakened from the darkness to open his eyes to… darkness.
Not the same as before, there was a sliver of light entering from what seemed to be a window at the back of his head, but it was thin enough to make seeing anything beyond the rough shape of the room impossible.
He stared at the dark ceiling right above his head, and wondered where he was. He died, he thought so at least. It was a snow bridge, on the edge of the ridge, it looked solid, it looked like it had rock underneath it. It gave in when he was stepping off of it. At least he didn't freeze to death, the impact got him.
'Maybe K2 East face was truly too ambitious.'
He felt his body, he did seem to have one, and he could feel his limbs. He raised his left hand and brought it over his face, which happened with some barely discernible clicks and clacks, but for some reason he felt almost nothing as he rubbed his face. A sort of numbness dulled his bodily senses, he barely felt any contact between his fingers and his head, no sense of softness or warmth he would normally expect from a living body. He pushed the thoughts to the back of his head and decided to stand up.
Putting his hands to the ground, he pushed himself up, and felt that his limbs and spine worked well enough to let him support himself, but he heard more of those tiny clicks and clacks. Slowly rising up to his feet, he walked towards the window that was letting some light enter this dark chamber of seemingly nothing.
On the dark scarlet sky hung a crimson crescent moon, lighting up the world in a colour of blood. It was an odd sight, but for some reason he felt nothing beyond that, as if the numbness that resided in his skin preceded his feelings too.
Looking down, he noticed he was on top of what seemed to be a watch tower of some old castle. He could see the almost ancient crumbling walls of the fortress barely lit in the night, giving way into what seemed to be a small courtyard covered in weeds and dirt.
It was weird and unfamiliar, to be in such a situation. He never feared heights, and looking down from the tower, he was sure he wouldn't die if he jumped carefully, or he could even down climb, the stones seemed rugged and rough enough to let him get down a few paces before jumping, making for an easier fall.
'It would be better to find a way from the inside first.' he decided.
He looked back into the dark abyss of the tower room he was in, and could see even less than before. He sat on the ledge of the tower window, and felt a chill from the outside air fill his bones. It would be funny if he threw himself out like this. 'Things I do for love.' he mused.
He inclined his head to the side when he noticed a tiny red glow glistening in the corner of his eye. It was not there before.
He slowly walked towards it with caution, hoping to find a way out of this.. watchtower, which now seemed more of a prison tower, albeit not a very secure one. He felt a crunch when he stepped on something like a stick. He prodded with his feet and side stepped what seemed to be a weirdly proportional log of wood.
When he reached the light, he could see clearly the red glow—it was the crimson moon reflecting off of a smooth surface. He felt it with his hand, and it clinked at the touch of his finger.
"I wish there was some light.." He barely whispered to himself, but the words seemed to have done something. He felt something rising in his core, a heat welling up throughout his body, somehow finding it's way to his extended finger, and the world lit up in cyan.
His eyes blinded, he closed them by instinct until he opened one a sliver and saw what seemed to be a tiny wisp of a cyan flame dancing on top of his finger… his finger, that seemed more like a long claw than a finger.
He remembered the feeling from a moment before and tried replicating it in an attempt to brighten the light. What was the rush of heat before was now a steady channel of warmth, somehow travelling it's way from his whole body to his core, and from his core to the fingertip, and as he willed it to grow, the heat filled his body again and the flame almost flickered to nothing before lighting up brighter than ever before.
He could see now, that smooth surface reflecting the moon was indeed, as he hoped, a mirror hanging off the blackened wall of the room. He looked in the mirror and saw what seemed to be a hollow face of a skeleton, like the ones he's seen many times in horror movies and anatomy videos. The face had two glowing cyan eyes, and a hollow nose which was covered from the back by what would be its cranium.
He brought his left hand to his face again and saw it happen in the mirror too—now he could clearly guess why everything felt so numb and slight, the fact that he could feel at all was already a miracle.
'What have I become..' He thought to himself as he looked at what seemed to be an abomination, a contradiction to life.
['Burn']
He commanded in his mind, and the flame that danced on his fingertip grew bright like a 100 watt LED bulb and expanded to the size of his palm, now lighting up the whole room.
He walked back a few paces from the mirror, and saw his body for what it was, an anatomically accurate mass of a human's skeletal lattice. Looking around at his left, he noticed what seemed to be an altar, on which laid several bones covered in soot and ash. Looking back to his steps, he saw the 'log' that he almost stepped on.. it was another human skeleton.
He would be horrified and shell shocked right now, if he could feel anything in this body without a nervous system and brain.
'This is all so very strange.' he thought as he now focused on the large flame dancing on his palm. For some reason, the numbness that didn't let him not feel did bring him some calm, and he wondered what happened to him.
"Have I reincarnated? Transmigrated?" he mumbled. He never expected it to happen, especially not like this, not as literal bare bones.
He could clearly see the whole chamber now—about 5 meters wide, and 10 meters long—covered in more skeletons and ash, some half ash, and half solid.
Whatever sort of place he had transmigrated too, it had something akin to magic; and as was his existence a proof, undeads, and possibly necromancy too.
"Is there any tutorial I get? Hello?" he said out aloud, hoping to hear an answer from somewhere, somehow. "Yeah, that's stupid." he thought in hindsight when he received no answer. Did he have a system? Some cheat? Was there some old mage sleeping in his body somewhere? Did he have anything of sort, any guide? How was he supposed to get out of this place?
["System"]
He said out loud, hoping for something, but nothing did.
["Sesame"]
["Open sesame"]
["Badabee badaboo"]
["Open up"]
["Status"]
That seemed to have done the trick somehow, as a new cyan light flashed in front of his eyes and he saw what appeared to be a status screen.
'I see, so it's a game like thingy.' He thought to himself as he read the particulars on the virtual screen.
+++
Mordain Noxleigh
[First of the Graveborn]
Age: 10 (154)
Level 0 Undead [Mage]
VIT: 0
STR: 4
AGI: 7
INT: 8
MAG: 6
+++
"First of the Graveborn.." he whispered. At least he knew what he was dealing with. Sort of.
He carefully looked around the chamber again, searching for a way out. Although the presence of the half burned skeletons was a bit eerie, he tried not to think of it, let alone why they were all locked in here in the first place.
He walked along the flame lit cyan walls of the chamber, hoping to find something that was different from just the wall. Indeed, he did, a texture that gleamed at places even when covered in soot, and he touched it, it tlinked in a thick, metallic sound.
He saw what seemed to be a big keyhole on the now identified door to his freedom. It was a large door going up from the floor to the ceiling. It must have been beautiful with intricate designs at some point in time, but all he could see now was molten patterns messing into each other.
Indeed, as he guessed, this room was once lit on fire.
Walking about further, he reached the altar he had previously noticed. There were two more shells of what was someone alive at some point resting on it, and as he stepped onto the altar, he saw something reflecting back the cyan glow of his wisp. He stepped closer to the half burnt frame of the person, and found clutched in its fingers a large black key. He gently pried it off its fingers, and looked at it in the light.
It was as long as his forearm. It was too big to be called a key, it was thick, heavy, and covered in soot. Indeed, it was a piece of raw iron shaped in a certain way.
As he focused on it, he found some letters inscribed on it. It looked something like a mix of Greek alphabet, and Old English runes, but for some reason, he found himself able to read.
"So he may return through ash, when the hunt rides again."
'Interesting.' he thought. That was the sort of thing would hear in prophecies, something like a song of fire and blood, or was it ice and fire?
Walking back to the door, he inserted the huge key into the keyhole, and twisted it clockwise with all the strength his literal bare bones could muster… it didn't budge.
He tried again, to only fail a second time.
'Have I gotten the wrong one?' he thought, before he had a moment of enlightenment. He held the key again with both his hands, and rotated it counter clockwise.. and it gave way. Even covered in soot and ash, it rotated and the lock gave in.
He pushed the door with all his meagre strength, and luckily, this time it was the right direction.
He was weak, he knew that. He had the body of a child, and he was short, barely 4 feet, he had measured it when he was checking the other skeletons.
He was apparently ten when he died, and it had been at least 144 years since then. Why was he burnt here though.. he tried not to think about the horrible implications of such an idea.
Pushing those thoughts to the back of his head, Mat walked out of the room to his freedom, in the small hallway of the tower that lead to a flight of stairs downwards. He was glad to be somewhat out in the open, things were brighter too.
He snuffed off the cyan flame—now floating in the air—and walked towards the stairs.