I

Burden.  

He was submerged in the stratosphere of his consciousness. Black dissonance with a cacophony of sounds and lights just beyond. Light composed of nostalgia and familiarity hummed between the dark fabric and himself. All he had to do was extend his hand and pierce the thick and saturated veil.  

Heavy. 

But his muscles would not work. Nor his tendons. Bones were rooted and his blood transfixed in a frozen state. Hooded eyelids descended for what seemed like days. A ringing in his ears and eyes cycled through his body and mind like a distorted wheel. 

Slowly it materialized into an image that burned. That of an aortic plunge from a sword ornamented with aristocratic lethality. Blood screamed out and draped the skeletal hand that wielded it. It boiled and sizzled against the white of the bones. 

Vehement. 

He looked down to see the sword inside of him. His eyelids flickered up in a burst of crimson energy. On the skeleton who murdered him was a crown shining of gold that blinded with its tainted rays. He gritted his teeth and with a newfound well of power shot his hand out to wrap destruction around the spine of the white wraith. It disintegrated as if it was not even there in the first place. The crown slipped into infinity. 

He thrust himself through. Beyond the bones and beyond the veil that kept the light from him. As he finally stepped into the warm shimmer it embraced him with warmth and a familiar touch that sang to him in melancholy simplicity. The overwhelming scent of tonka beans permeated his nose as a naked figure coaxed him into comforting heat. His eyes closed as his cheek draped the figure’s bosom.  

With his skin melting into hers he entered a morning of a thousand lights. 

And that was when he awoke with a name that was lost to the void. It escaped from the lips of love, burrowing its way tenderly to a heart that stopped beating. Her painstaking voice that glimmered with hope: 

“Rooh.”