Falling backward I plummet down for an impossibly long time, the absent of a sudden, snowy halt letting me know I made the choice I meant to. That was lucky, I guess. Ending up buried in a snowy mountain side would’ve been an embarrassing end to my little escape attempt. Not that I have much of an opinion on the outcome either way.

  My choice to take a second chance at life wasn’t made because I had any particularly strong feelings about the matter. From the sounds of it, if I stayed I would’ve ended up living with Gwen, and while I’m not sure what that would’ve entailed I am sure it would’ve been fine. Even if she gave me a minor job around the place to keep me busy, I doubt she would’ve mistreated me. I can easily imagine spending many pleasant days quietly lying about her magical ski lodge, perhaps reading by one of those fires, or napping while I pretend to read. Either way, lots of napping. A lot like how my life was before my death, if I’m being honest.

  When it came down to it, my choice was made on more of a whim than anything else. I suspect my new life might be just as hard as Gwen mentioned it might be, but I just felt that it would be better to at least give it a try. A shame not to, really. So I’ll go down and take a look around and see how things shake out. If it doesn’t work out I’ll just end up dead again and hopefully not back in that stupid closet. Properly dead this time, with no layovers in between.

  I suppose it is a possibility that either Gwen or Artos might come after me because of all that stuff about my soul being different now, but if so then at least I can take a look around before they haul me back. I’m not afraid of them being mad at me. If life has taught me nothing else, it’s that I’m too cute to punish. Seriously though, I could probably get away with murder.

  Despite still seeming to be falling down a mountain side, the actually mountain never gets any closer as I endlessly fall. And then, without much warning, there are no mountains and I’m surrounded by glittering fog like snow reflecting light in shifting colors. That’s a bit more uncomfortable because I can’t see where I’m going. I wasn’t afraid of falling before, but now that it feels like the ground could rush up on me it’s a bit more unsettling.

  It’s only there, in the odd fog, that I begin becoming real again. It’s an odd experience because I’m not forming bones and then ligaments and muscles and skin all in order like you might expect. I just sudden have form, but the form is shifting around like it hasn’t yet made up its mind about what it wants to be.

  Thinking of what Gwenivere said about me not being quite human anymore, I quietly hope it wants to be a dragon.

  I had felt normal before, like I still had a body, but now that I can feel a new body forming around me I realize I had just been a pale shadow, despite all the glowing. A mere memory of life. There’s a vibrancy to my forming flesh that sings of vitality and possibility and reminds me that this is what life is supposed to be like. It's quite nice.

  My form begins to settle and the fog begins to clear, letting me know that wherever I'm going to end up I’m about to arrive. Through the thinning fog I can almost make out a clear blue sky and a forest waterfall so beautiful it looks like a blessed land from a fairy tale. Thinking about it, I don’t think I mind getting my start in a secluded forest. I’m not much of a woodsman, but at least I’ll get a chance to get my bearings and maybe take a look around before I have to figure out how I’m going to manage dealing with people. I might end up going hungry, but in my opinion this is a much better way to start out than getting dumped into the middle of a city or a room full of people. Just thinking about it gives me chills.

  It’s then, without any warning at all and with the waterfall so close I can all but feel the cool spray of its water, that my reality shifts abruptly to the side. No more waterfall, no more beautiful forest solitude. I don't get dragged back into the fog, instead staying at the edge of it and getting disorienting flashes of unfamiliar places. It almost feels like I’m a fish caught on someone’s hook and they’re yanking me through the water as fast as they can.

  Pondering the cause of the abrupt change it occurs to me that I might’ve been caught. Which only leaves me to wonder whether it’s Gwenivere or Artos who caught me. I’m not even sure why Artos would bother, unless he’s thought of a use for me. Charming as I am, I can’t imagine that would go well for me. The dude shoved poison down my throat two seconds after meeting me, I can’t say I’m interested in finding out what else he might pull out of his sleeve. There’s just no way living with him would be near as relaxing as chilling with Gwen in her lodge. I can all but see my potential chill future of sipping warm drinks with Gwen next to a fire as snow falls outside disappearing before my very eyes, replaced by me in overalls sweeping the floors of a mushroom filled cavern like a pitiful little slave mushroom because some asshole couldn’t be bothered to clean his own damn closet.

  This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

  Please, oh please, don’t let my kidnapper be Artos.

  As if in response to that thought everything suddenly goes perfectly dark, telling me in no uncertain terms that the answer to my plea is “sorry, better luck next time.” At first I can’t see or hear or feel anything, but then sensation starts coming back to me bit by bit. Some fucking how I’m sitting in a chair and there’s a faint buzzing in my ears. It takes me a moment to recognize the source of the sound, and it’s with a growing sense of dread that I realize it’s the low level hum of people talking.

  People. There are people here. Damnit.

  I can still feel my new body and all its newly appreciated vitality, which means I wasn’t hauled back by one of the gods. Instead, Artos (because it can only be Artos) altered where I would appear in the world. Because a serene (and more importantly, isolated) forest clearing wasn’t good enough for him. No, he decided I needed to encounter this new world of which I understand nothing, surrounded by people who very likely just saw me appear out of nowhere.

  Is this payback for something? It’s not like I did anything to him.

  I almost don’t want to open my eyes. It’s not like I think ignoring a problem makes it better in any way, but I’ve never really been able to fix my problems to begin with so I figure it doesn’t really matter either way.

  It’s the curiosity that finally makes me open my eyes. Below me is a vast room so big you only see them at mega churches or event centers, with soaring fan vaulted ceilings with such intricate detail it looks like it’s made of dull white spiderwebs. In contrast to that delicate work are jagged, twisted sections of obsidian along the wall and as an occasional pillar throughout the room, supporting the impossible ceiling and looking like it grew into place. Carved into the obsidian are massive statues of very serious looking people. And in addition to the obsidian, there is also large tree trunks and roots visible in the walls of this place, making it an odd yet visually fascinating mix of manmade and force of nature. It makes the place feel alive, almost.

  There are giant chandeliers hanging from the ceiling that do little to brighten the place, matched with stained glass windows that make what light gets in this place murky. Along the edge of the room are wall sconces that seem designed to give just enough light to cast shadows.

  Filling the room are people all wearing the same outfit that looks halfway between a priest’s clothes and a combat uniform, each with an amulet around their neck and a knife by their side. Many of the people have earrings or face tattoos, making this look a bit like a church for gangsters. I can’t tell for sure, given the sucky lighting in this place, but I’m not entirely sure all of them are human. Some of their eyes are just a little too bright to be normal. They’re all packed in with standing room only, which is actually pretty dangerous. People can get crushed to death in standing crowds like that.

  At the head of the room and just below me is a throne where a man in elaborate and very impressive looking robes stands, a cross between a crown and a funny looking religious hat on his head. He had likely been sitting down just a moment ago, but now he's standing and looking back at me. Just like everyone else in the room.

  On closer inspection the “chair” I’m sitting in is even more elaborate than the throne, and it’s position above and separate from everything else denotes a greater position even than that of the man with the funny hat. The set up reminds me of a throne kept empty in the king’s absence while the steward sits in a throne below, signifying his own position while emphasizing his continued subservience to the king. Which means, this chair was likely supposed to stay empty. That is, until I came along and sat my ass down.

  Looking down at all the people staring back up at me with a mixture of awe, confusion and general fanatical intensity, I can’t help thinking that Artos has a down right evil sense of humor.

  As if summoned by my thoughts a familiar voice rings out, filling the entire room and instantly capturing everyone’s attention. “Your attention, please. Today I would like to introduce you all to someone of utmost important to me.” Artos sounds solemn, even vaguely responsible, which only gives me a bad feeling. “Before you sits my one and only child." Um, what? I don't remember that being a thing. "As a mortal he can not dwell with me in the realm of the gods, so I must needs leave him with you. Despite his appearance he is only newly born and knows nothing of the world. I ask that you raise and teach him what he needs to know with the greatest of care, for I will be watching. Do not fail me in this.”

  After he stopped speaking there was a ringing silence all throughout the room until, as one, every single person dropped to their knees and stared at me with burning eyes, shouting out with one voice. “All hail Lord Artos! All Hail!”

  Sitting there, the center of attention of literally thousands of people, I think, perhaps, I might be in a bit of trouble.