A low hum reverberated through Dreven’s body, faint at first, then growing stronger, vibrating in his bones as he stirred. Awareness came slowly, as if rising from beneath the weight of a thousand lifetimes. Blinking, he opened his eyes. The world around him was alien, overwhelming. Where was he? Questions surged, each more disorienting than the last. The air was dense, thick with a strange energy that made his skin prickle.

  His breath came ragged as he pushed himself upright, the polished floor beneath him unnervingly smooth and cold. He blinked again, his vision sharpening, and what lay before him stole the air from his lungs.

  Archways—countless archways—of pure, radiant light stretched out in perfect symmetry, lining a cavern so vast it defied comprehension. The light was unyielding, cold and stark, casting shadows that writhed unnaturally across the mirrored floor. The space felt infinite, yet suffocating, as if the weight of eternity itself pressed down upon him.

  A whisper of memory surfaced, a moment of clarity amid the storm of confusion: the piercing cold of steel sliding between his ribs, the coppery tang of blood flooding his senses. Death. He had died. Or at least, he thought he had. The sharp, biting agony had faded to numbness, then to nothingness. Who had struck the final blow? That remained shrouded in the haze of his final moments.

  “What is going on here? What is this place?” His voice cracked, echoing endlessly through the hollow expanse.

  Only silence greeted him, vast and impenetrable. Then, as if the void itself had taken voice, it came.

  “Balance… must be maintained.”

  The words boomed, a force that rattled his core and set his skin alight with unease. It was a voice of unfathomable power, neither male nor female, resonant and absolute. It seemed to emanate from every corner of the hall, yet nowhere at all.

  Dreven staggered to his feet, his movements sluggish as if the air around him resisted. “Balance? What does that have to do with me?” He hated the tremor in his voice, a betrayal of fear he hadn’t felt in centuries. As a Sanguinari, he had long learned to mask vulnerability, to wield arrogance as armor.

  Instinctively, he reached out for the presence of his patron deity, K’rath. “K’rath guide me!” His plea echoed hollowly, answered only by the oppressive silence. The familiar comfort of his god’s influence was absent, leaving him untethered.

  A chuckle, low and mocking, reverberated through the cavern. “Your god holds no sway here, little Sanguinari.” The voice’s derision was palpable, each word a dagger twisting in his pride.

  Dreven’s memories surged unbidden, a torrent of fragmented images. The blood-slicked halls of his past rose before him, painted in crimson hues. The lifeless faces of those he had slain stared back, accusing and unrelenting. He clenched his fists, his claws digging into his palms as he tried to suppress the flood.

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  A vision overwhelmed him, vivid and unrelenting. The ancient fortress loomed, its gothic spires piercing a sky dyed in the fiery hues of twilight. The air was alive with the clash of steel and the screams of the dying. The Holy Flame Paladins had come, their silver armor gleaming like stars as they stormed the gates.

  He remembered the desperation, the rage. As a lowly Sanguinari, rank and privilege were beyond his reach, but loyalty to his mistress burned in his veins. He had fought with feral grace, his clawed hands cutting through conscripts like parchment. Their blood had been a dark, intoxicating elixir, fueling his strength. Yet it hadn’t been enough. A knight’s spear had found his heart, and holy fire had consumed him.

  The vision faded, leaving him trembling. The connection to his mistress, the one who had given him purpose, was gone. Severed. He was alone.

  The voice shattered the silence once more. “The doors before you represent a new life, worlds in need of balance. You will have the chance to adjust the scales.”

  Dreven turned, his golden, pupil-less eyes reflecting the glow of the archways. The light painted his features in sharp relief: the cascade of jet-black hair, the angular planes of his face, and the sickly gray of his skin—a mark of his cursed existence. He could see his reflection on the polished floor, a specter of death incarnate.

  The words of the voice hung heavy in the air. A flicker of curiosity ignited within him. “So… you’re saying I’ll be sent to a new world to… what? Be good? Help people?” He barked a bitter laugh, his tone laced with disbelief. Sanguinari were monsters in the eyes of most. In every corner of his world, his kind were reviled.

  The voice answered not with argument, but with indifference. “Do as you please. But the deities of the realm you choose will not be pleased with my interference. They will send their agents.”

  A shiver traced his spine. The archways seemed to shift subtly, each one humming with energy. He moved closer to one, its glowing symbols whispering in a language that danced on the edge of familiarity. The impressions they conveyed seeped into his mind like ink spreading through water.

  “Earth?” he murmured, stopping before one archway. The faint energy emanating from it was dull, lifeless—a world fully explored, its secrets long since unearthed. It felt stale, a poor canvas for his ambitions. No, he needed something greater. Something untamed.

  He turned to another archway, its golden glow pulsating like a heartbeat. The script etched into its frame whispered of vastness, of untold wonders and dangers. “Ultima,” he breathed, tasting the word on his tongue. This was no mere world. It was a realm of myth, where mountains scraped the heavens and oceans spanned horizons unseen. It promised freedom, and with it, power.

  “I want this one,” he said, his voice steady, a thread of hunger weaving through his words. “A realm vast and unspoiled, waiting to be conquered.”

  The light from the chosen archway intensified, a beam descending to encircle him. Warmth bloomed against his cold skin, and for a fleeting moment, he felt alive again.

  “This world has long been in need of someone like you. Farewell, little Sanguinari. May your next life be better than the last.”

  Dreven opened his mouth to respond, but the archway flared with blinding intensity. Light swallowed him whole, the ground dissolving beneath his feet. He fell, shadows and brilliance swirling around him in chaotic harmony. His past was gone, his future uncertain. All that remained was the unknown.

  And he embraced it.