A light purple mote danced before me in the dark. To say I expected this would be pure fallacy. I had expected death to be, well the end. Instead, here I lay and deep void staring at a mote of light. A small purple thing that reminded me of my past magic. I couldn’t help frowning at it. I had oh so loathed that color. While it was not that deep set purple that had pained my eyes signifying my magic in life, it still did little to please me to be reminded of it even in death. Was this what death had in store for everyone who met it. to be faced with that which they had despised in life. Whatever it was I simply moved to swat the annoying thing away. I was a master Mage in my life after all, I could easily use my skills even in death to find myself so peace in this void I now called home. Only, I couldn’t. seems death wanted to taunt me as I found I was unable to move or look away from the mote that floated before me. What a twisted joke. I thought as I tried to sigh only to remember I was dead and couldn’t. to know you had no body or control was, not pleasant. It would have had me screaming in fear if I could, only to remember I simply had to accept this for what it was. It was the end; my afterlife and I could do nothing about it.

I knew I would come to accept this position in time. After all, who was I complain about death. It was simply my lot in life or well death. This void after all was to be my new eternal home. I dare not complain or find myself in a far worse state. However, the fact that I could see more motes of purple light dancing their way towards me was not pleasant. Was truly to be faced with this accursed color to remind me for all eternity what I had been. Did I deserve this, couldn’t they let me just pass eternity by in my memories? The fact the purple motes congregated towards me faster at that thought left me displeased. Seems whatever entity death was it did not want me to find peace. So, I did the only thing I could. I watched as millions of motes dance their way towards me in the dark till they were all I could see. A wall of purple that reached out into my eternity. It was a cruel joke if nothing else. I would have to face it though; this was to be my eternal punishment for what I was. Yet, why was it I felt as though something was pulling at me. I was little more than the consciousness of some dead old Mage. I shouldn’t be able to feel anything. In fact, how could I still think.

This makes no sense. I was dead, the man known as Deacon Frow was dead, I died killed by Mage hunters. I knew that, so why did I still know anything. Death was the collective end of everything in the world. My memories and sense of self shouldn’t exist, yet here I was in a void surrounded by purple light, being pulled towards… What was I being pulled towards? Should I fight it. No that didn’t seem right, I felt like what ever was pulling at me was warm. Like an embrace. I didn’t want to fight it. strange to say the least. To feel so calm in this situation should of bother me. After all I have experienced things like mind control and other such magics that took away a person’s freedom. Though this felt nothing like those spells that had been used on me. There was no gnawing pain or deep uncertainty that came from those spells. Granted I was dead so maybe I wouldn’t feel those things. My situation was truly a mystery to me. Still, I guess a part of me was curios to what was happening. As I felt the pull grow and that warmth fill me, like I had a body again. A warmth that reached from my chest out. I couldn’t say I wanted to fight the pull.

Whatever was to come, couldn’t be worse than death… I hoped as the warmth spread over me as the purple around flashed away in a blinding white.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXX

My eyes snapped open with such speed I half expected my eyes to bulge out of my skull. Which was odd, seeing as the dead didn’t have skulls or eyes. In fact, they didn’t need to breath either. So as my eyes darted left a right as I felt my lungs burn in a desperate cry for oxygen. I lurched forward pulling myself from under the warm water that I found encasing me. as I splashed up gasping for air taking it in like a drunkard would ale. I found myself flapping my arms around the brace tubs rim, which again, being dead I shouldn’t have those. In fact, as my chest rose and fell with each heaving breath against the wall of the tub, I knew for a fact I never had a brace bathtub. I blinked my eyes clearing my vision of water as I tried to take everything in around me. Ornate marble floors, deep set red curtains framing lavish windowpanes. Smooth stone walls that looked straight out of a Kings castle chamber room surrounded me. I was not expecting this. I gasped one final time before settling my breath with controlled intakes and releases as I pushed myself to a seated position in the tub.

I had no clue what just happened or where I was, but I knew one thing for certain. I was no longer dead. That should have made me happy. Instead, I felt a palatable dread fall over me as I slowly looked down to my hands and body. This can’t be right. I thought as I traced my fingers noticing how clean they were. How arms which once strong and muscular were now light and almost twigish. Gone was the muscle I had built up over the years as were the scars I had earned. From my arms came my shoulders and chest. Flat, but broad much broader that I used to be, but lacking muscle definition it looked disappointing. Trailing farther down my stomach which once bore a nice scar I earned from a pick pocket who stabbed me with a rusted chisel now was soft and thin. No muscle or fat. To say my lower body wasn’t the same as before would be an understatement. My legs which once were well defined and strong from years of travel and mountainous climbing were twigs. I tried also to ignore the difference in other parts I didn’t need or want to compare.

My mind spun with countless thoughts as I took in everything before I finally looked to one side of the lavish bathroom, I had woken in. A tall full-length mirror hung from the ornate wall at the back of the room next to a marble sink. I carefully climbed out of the tub. Slipping slightly finding the fact, that gods know how long I had spent as little more than a consciousness in an endless void left me struggling to move. Having a body again feels weird. I thought as I gingerly stepped free of the tub balancing on the edge with my hands, so my feet didn’t slip out from under me, and I die from a sudden strike to the head. Not the best way to start what seemed to be a new life. why I was born in a bathtub instead of like a normal human I didn’t know. Maybe this wasn’t a new life but some sort of ritual. Like a Mage had somehow caught my soul and brought me back. I heard of some Mages trying such feats. They never succeeded but hey there’s a first for everything in magic.

Though I think I would have been born in a tube instead of a tub if that were the case. I would have likely been more than a malformed blob of flesh with sentience if such a ritual had been performed. No, as I came to the mirror, I knew this was no ritual. Slowly, carefully I cleared some of fog from the mirror and took in my face. I noticed I as well was not as tall as I remember being. My stature now was that of a teen, not a full-grown adult like before. The face that looked back at me all but confirmed it though. Young, still growing but well define features looked back from the mirror. I was handsome, to say the least. But not the sort of handsome that came from hard work and well-defined muscle, but the boyish handsome of someone who got luck in the looks department. I guess the best way to describe it was princely. I could see the face developing well into that of a strong defined young man, but now I looked little more that a soft faced prince.

A staggering contrast to my past appearance. While before I had a strong jaw and a crooked nose looking more like a lumber jack than a prince, I found my new appearance disappointing. Whatever was happening left me confused, but mostly disappointed. why is this happening? I asked myself as I brushed a hand through my now black hair. I slowly traced my own face in the mirror trying to find anything like my past looks. But nothing, my eyes now a deep gold that looked unnatural to what I was used to. I couldn’t have been more than seventeen years old which, did that make me seventy-six now seeing as I died at fifty-nine. No that wasn’t important my age wasn’t the problem I realized as I saw my neck in the reflection. Dark bruising in the shape of a hand traced my neck. I had been strangled. By whom? Before my mind could go deeper into that thought shouting reached my ears. Distant and muffled through the stone walls. Slowly, carefully I made my way out of the bathroom taking a towel to cover myself.