He had long forgotten his name; the only things he remembered were the faces of his parents who loved him, his mentor who cherished him, his beloved Liora, and his eternal hatred for the empire that took everything from him.
He did not know for how long he had slumbered, nor did he know where he was. There was only darkness.
Soil pressed against him from every direction. Stones dug into his back. Roots had wrapped around his ribs and arms.
He tried to move his fingers. Something dry and brittle scraped against dirt. He could not see his body, but he could feel it. There was barely any flesh left on him. His limbs were thin, twisted, and weak.
The body that had once traced mana through the air was now little more than a corpse that refused to die.
'It doesn't matter. Now that I'm awake, I can finish what I have started.'
A cracked whisper escaped his throat. "Move."
