A look of confusion flickered across the young man's face as his hair chaotically whipped in the wind.

Zoé's brows furrowed as she silently watched him standing in place- looking past her.

'What now, tough guy?'

Suddenly, two things happened: his irises flashed red, then completely turned into solid, crimson orbs. And at the same moment he heavily fell to his knees- clutching his head with both hands as he screamed at the top of his lungs.

Thousands of indistinct images, ambiguous voices, and fleeting emotions flooded his mind like an unstoppable tide.

A universe of darkness. An infinite excess of nothingness. Somewhere, and yet nowhere.

Emerson's naked consciousness was drowning.

He was frantically treading a rising swell of churning water, an apocalyptic lightning storm gathering above the waters- lightning flashes so bright they seared his eyes; thunder booming so loudly the dark watery depths felt safer than the surface; rain poured in heavy sheets from the overcast, black clouds as though angels wept. The water was freezing, yet warm- a combination that had him shivering one moment and boiling in his own skin the next, and yet he couldn't feel the water. A massive wave suddenly loomed overhead- a flash of blinding white light, the roar of thunder, dense droplets of rain pelting his face numb... the wave crashed over him.

He was completely submerged- engulfed beneath the waves; spinning, tumbling, directionless. The icy hot water poured into his mouth, filled his lungs, got into his eyes, blasted up his nose- simultaneously burning and freezing his brain. His limbs flailed around him as water pressure mercilessly bore down on him.

He tried screaming- but his mouth wouldn't move. He tried to see something- anything, but the salty water burned his eyes raw.

A flash of white!

Aurelia/Emerson stood atop crumbling stone battlements overlooking miles of green, windswept plains while the sweltering afternoon sun hung far above in the clear, blue sky. The distant city of Csanád sat just below the horizon. She/He turned to the sounds of exuberant shouting and pointing as the disorganized, armed peasantry were ushered by fully armored men-at-arms on horseback through the fortress gates. And amongst those on horseback was the uprising general himself, György Dózsa- an aged man with tanned skin, receding hairline, and full, dark beard. He issued additional commands to a small following of men-at-arms, who either nudged their horses and took off, or smoothly dismounted and ran over to help some men and women with reloading their muskets. The general squinted against the sun as he looked up at the battlements- locking gazes with Aurelia/Emerson. The bloody corpses of the fortresses' defenders littered the courtyard around him. He smiled.

The vision distorted around that smile- the stone walls warping, twisting- Rumble!

Emerson's head burst through the surface of the dark waters! The sound of thunder boomed in his ears and lightning forked across the 'sky', illuminating the interior of an endless bank of churning, roiling clouds. The rain beat down- trying to push him beneath the waves. He desperately paddled and kicked trying to keep himself afloat as his body was burned and frozen; thrown and beaten against the waves- his mouth just barely staying above the water level. He felt like his head was about to explode- there was so much pressure, so much pain.

He was confused, distraught, scared- so many emotions he couldn't understand! A massive wave loomed. Emerson's consciousness soundlessly screamed, and then he was completely submerged- engulfed beneath the waves; spinning, tumbling, directionless.

A flash of white!

Aurelia/Emerson was crouching just outside the entrance to a large, canvas tent- the bodies of two guardsmen laid on their backs in the grass- the night's crescent moon illuminating their horrified, wide-eyed expressions and shredded throats. Aurelia/Emerson crept closer, grabbing the tent flap and opening it to reveal a warmly lit interior complete with all the trappings and amenities a hardened soldier required during arduous campaigns. Mihai Viteazul sat at a small wooden table in the center of the tent, a quill pen in his right hand dancing across a rectangular, linen rag by dim candlelight as he dealt with the hundreds of minutia involved with organizing an army of tens of thousands. The tent flap made a noise. Aurelia/Emerson instantly blurred inside- hiding in the shadows behind the seated man. The quill pen stopped as he looked up at the tent's entrance- his thick brows knitted together in a frown. The slightly opened canvas covering gently flapped in the cool breeze. Aurelia/Emerson silently emerged from the shadows, short sword raised- swish! There was practically no resistance as the blade's sharpened edge, combined with her/his supernatural strength, cleanly passed through the man's neck. A second passed. The severed head tumbled from his shoulders, grotesquely smacking onto the table as the body went limp in the chair- its chest leaning against the table's edge. Bright, ruby-red blood spurted across the table from a severed artery. Aurelia/Emerson held up the blade, examining it with bloodthirsty glee before running her/his tongue across the metal- lapping up a small mouthful of warm, delicious blood. Her/His eyes glanced at the thin candle, its small, orange flame flickering dangerously. She/He pinched the candle wick with small, pale, dainty fingers- snuffing out the flame.

The vision distorted around that singular moment as the tent plunged into darkness- Rumble!

Emerson's head burst through the surface of the dark waters! Gagging and coughing, he spat water as he treaded the water's surface- his movements slower, weaker. And sooner than before, another shadow covered the waters- a wide tidal wave rising so high that Emerson had to crane his neck to see its curved pinnacle.

It's size was so beyond comprehension that the suction force at its base immediately yanked him beneath the dark, roaring waters before he even had a chance to register what was happening.

Spinning... tumbling... darkness... directionless.

A flash of white!

And so on it went, with Emerson's consciousness barely gripping onto sanity as it was pulled beneath the waves again, again, and again- dozens of times, hundreds of times, as thunder and flashes of lightning demarcated that dreaded transition to another reality. Another time. Another place. Something distinctly alien, confusing... uncontrollable.

His sense of self was deteriorating under the strain of hundreds of other perspectives, days, and ages.

Flash!

She/He was a Transylvanian assassin in the Thirty Years' War- brutally mutilating, hunting, stalking, and torturing those under the command of Gabriel Bethlen during his invasion of Hungary.

Flash!

She/He secretly advised the war efforts of the Wallachian general, Matei Basarab, against Moldavia- manipulating, murdering, usurping.

Flash!

She/He utterly sabotaged the second war between Wallachia and Moldavia, cunningly maneuvering manpower, resources, and disseminating incriminating information so that the Moldavian throne was given to Gheorghe Ştefan.

Flash!

She/He viciously gutted, tortured, and mutilated hundreds of Ottomans during the Battle of Vienna and slaughtered entire churches of Roman Catholic Inquisition forces in Transylvania.

Flash!

She/He desperately fought against the Habsburg Empire's invasion of Wallachia- smoke rose over the horizon, fires raging across the land as endless waves of soldiers, horses, and heavy artillery crews trampled crop fields and demolished farm homes.

Flash!

She/He quietly stalked the cobblestone streets of Russian-occupied, Wallachian cities- feasting and experimenting on unsuspecting Russian soldiers.

Flash!Flash!Flash!Flash!Flash!Flash!Flash!Flash!Flash!Flash!Flash!

It was too much- his consciousness couldn't handle it anymore. He could feel himself pressing against the breaking point- the pressure in his head reaching such painful heights that the reprieve found in the memories became the antidote. Only, it was a lie. The antidote was actually the poison, for every additional flash of lightning and roar of thunder increased the tear in his mind. It was like a sailor stranded at sea without fresh water- surrounded by water. And every refreshing, salty sip furthered one's descent into madness.

Another inexorable wave rose above him- lightning flashed, thunder boomed. And beneath the myriad of emotions and memories threatening to overwhelm him, beneath the incredible, indescribable pain coursing through his body- he knew. This was it. This was the final wave. He was going to die. The knowledge of his impending death was oddly liberating- he would soon be free of this inescapable, torturous purgatory. He placidly gazed upon the rising wave- not even trying to paddle, but for some reason staying afloat.

The dark water bubbled in front of him.

A head rose out of the water- revealing wet raven-black hair plastered around an unnaturally beautiful woman's face, her flawless, porcelain skin glistening with droplets of clinging water and eyes of deep obsidian shining nearly as bright as the smile stretching her small, red lips. She rose until the nape of her thin neck and lithe shoulders were above the water- the large swell of her breasts cresting above the murky water's surface just enough to reveal a maddeningly tantalizing sight without completely exposing herself. Before he could do anything, the woman effortlessly crossed through the water separating them and raised her arms out of the water, draping them over his shoulders at her elbows- her luscious breasts pushing up against his chest- their noses almost touching.

It was her. He knew her.

She stared deeply into his eyes before guiding him close- nestling his face into the crook of her neck, one of her hands moving up to gently hold the back of his head.

"It'll be okay." Her voice coed, rubbing his hair- her other arm tightening around his upper back.

Safety. Soothing. The area around them was suddenly calm- the waves only lapping at their bodies.

The tumultuous, chaotic cacophony of the lightning storm faded into the background- a persistent white noise. He absently watched over her soft shoulder as the massive wave loomed directly overhead- only they remained still, two souls unaffected by the raging storm and violent currents.

The roar of the approaching wave crescendoed to a heart-stopping degree- CRASH!

The pair were pulled beneath the water as though weighted down with iron chains at their ankles- plummeting deeper, and deeper still, beneath the surface. The lightning storm's reflections against the water's surface growing distant...

Distant...

The woman pulled his face from her neck and held him before her- their heated stares locked onto one another as the abyss swallowed them. Their lips came together.

And so they sank, naked bodies pressed tightly together as their tongues fought for dominance.

Sinking.

Flash!

Sinking..

Flash!

Sinking...

Into the ocean's empty embrace.