Waking up trapped in darkness is never a good feeling. I mean, some may enjoy it, as one could wake up at their own pace, slowly entering the realm of the conscious. Honestly, it's one the few things I love doing when I have no obligations that day. After a week of intense study and school for classes, nothing feels better than sleeping in till noon and only getting up when the mood strikes.

However, those good feelings are nonexistent when you wake up while buried alive.

The combined weight of the earth wrapped around me pushed down on me from all sides, restricting my body. My eyes barely opened before I flinched from a burning sensation in my corneas. A grunt escaped me as I tried to move my frustratingly stiff body. The dirt enshrining me refused to budge, its suffocating presence almost causing my heart to race. Fear drowned my rational mind as panic began to rise unbidden.

The earth around me began to shift as I forced my body to move, the bones in my arm creaking and popping as I pushed in a direction that felt like ‘up.' There was nothing, anywhere, in any direction. I had no idea where I should go to be free from this earthen prison, so I went with my instincts. Sluggish, they didn't react immediately. Beyond ‘get free!', I didn't focus on anything specific.

I pushed more and more, my other arm following suit as it reached upwards. My legs kicked and bucked, further moving my body upwards. Resistance, both from the ever-present earth and my creaky and stiff frame, made it difficult to make any meaningful progress, but I had to do something to get out of this hell!

My lungs burned as I finally realized that I couldn't breathe. Fingers tore through the dirt as I continue to climb upwards, swimming through the soil. With shaking limbs, I pushed further and harder than I did moments before, desperation slowly driving me to go faster.

Who put me here?

Why put me here?

What is this place?

Where am-

No. No time to waste on these questions. Not until I get free and breathe some fresh air. A strength that I had no clue I had left poured through my stiff limbs, loosening and filling them with a power that surprised me just as much as it drove me. The earth practically parted before me as I swam through it blindly. I know I just started moving, but it felt like I was at this forev-

When my hand broke through the surface and felt the pleasant breeze of open air, elation surged. I grasped at the air for a few seconds before slapping down onto the ground and digging my fingers into it, pulling my body upwards. My second hand followed suit, doing the same as the first, and I was given the leverage to pull my upper body free of the dirt.

I opened my mouth and gasped for air as soon as my head broke the through the surface. In my haste, unfortunately, I ended up inhaling an abundance of dirt and began to hack and cough. Still waist deep in the earth, I leaned forward and coughed painfully. Even as I did that, though, I couldn't help my excitement. I was free! No longer trapped in ground, who-knows-how deep below the surface!

Before I could do anything to recover fully, a chill raced down my spine. Jerking to the side, I heard a grunt and dull thud as I felt a soft breeze whiff past my face. "Damn undead." An older, masculine voice caused me to stiffen. Hearing another grunt, I could guess he was lifting his tool again.

Lifting my hands, I croaked out a "Wait!". Then I coughed again, punching myself in the chest to try and clear my airways. "I'm not-" Rubbing my face, I cleared the area around my eyes of dirt and tried to open my eyes.

Painful brightness seared my vision, causing me to groan and recoil. Covering my face, I held back a curse as the voice grunted in self-assurance. "Now they're crawling out in the daytime? What has Verum come to?" He let out sound as if he heaved his tool upwards.

Before I could do, or say, anything in my defense, the man let out a strangled grunt at a meaty impact, followed by a thud right next to me. Planting my hands on the ground, I slowly opened my eyes to let them get accustomed to a new environment. The first thing I saw was dirt, illuminated by the bright light of the beaming sun. Lifting my head, I looked around my new surroundings.

Gravestones. Stone blocks with names, numbers, and statements that marked the bodies of lost loved ones. I was in a plot of land, covered in beautiful green grass, that seemed to be rectangular, encased within wooden and stone fence. The occasional tree dotted the ground around the graveyard, though directly in front of me, I could see buildings and the distance foot traffic of pedestrians and horse-drawn carriages. Behind me, there was a vast stretch of empty land, with a single, well-traveled road that stretched off into the distance, peppered with a line of trees that trailed along the side.

"Perhaps you should get out of the ground before you study your surroundings." A feminine voice spoke up, her tone dry and amused. My gaze shot to the source of the sound, eyes narrowing in suspicion. She appeared to be willowy, but lithe, clad in a dark red ankle-length dress with a sleeveless, braided bodice and a white long-sleeve undershirt. She looked to be around the age of a young woman, early-to-mid-twenties if a little younger. Her shoulder-length hair was a light brown color, with a series of black highlights amongst her bangs, which framed her round, softly smiling face. Her eyes were the color of a faintly luminous pale amber.

The young woman rolled her eyes. "Penny said you'd be suspicious, but this is ridiculous." She extended her hand towards me, offering to help. "I'm pretty sure that if we don't get you out of here, then more people than this old grave-keeper will mistake you for an undead." I glanced to the side to an older man, clad in a pair of worn-out, patchwork, dark brown pants and a faded white tunic, a shovel resting near his outstretched hand. He had a full beard, though it was grey and worn like his weathered features.

Then she smirked, her lips curling in a playfully attractive manner. "Though, the glowing red eyes aren't helping any either."

Surprise jolted through me. "Red?!" I whispered with shock, before narrowing my eyes at her. With wary regard, I reached forward and grasped her hand with mine. There was faint flex of her deceptively lean arm as she pulled my body up and out of the ground. Now standing on my own two feet, I was surprised to no longer feel the stiffness from before. As the woman released my hand, I clenched and unclenched my fists as I looked at my former confines. The dirt was upended and looked like a distended, distorted anthill.

A knee-height length slab of stone greeted me, beautifully crafted and sketched with a pair of feathered wings framing the outer-edge and a stone-carved sword hilt atop the gravestone.

----'Here lies Joseph Blaine.'

----‘April 1997 – October 2015.'

----‘A Loyal Friend and Loving Brother'

My eyes widened as my breath came out short, my heart squeezing in my chest. "W-what?!" I gasped as I shook my head, memories coming forward.

"Not here." The young woman said suddenly, her expression gentle, but warning. "It's still light out, and I can hear passers-by nearing the graveyard." She frowned and glanced behind her. I followed her gaze to see a beautiful, white chapel, decorated with a pair of wings framing the entryway and a downward-facing sword hilt above it. "We need to find somewhere to rest until nightfall. If the Inquisitors catch either of us, especially here and now, then we'll have to answer some very uncomfortable questions."

"Like how I'm not supposed to be alive?" I said to her, my voice far more biting and sarcastic than I intended it to be.

The woman let out a bark of laughter, her lips widening into a beautiful, yet amused grin. "Well, that and why you're naked in a graveyard."

I froze and slowly looked down. Ragged remnants of whatever clothes they buried me in were all that was left, hanging from my shoulders and laying on the ground at my feet.

Yep. As the day as I was born. An embarrassed huff escaped me as I ignored her wandering eyes. "I'm assuming you have someplace we can stay…?" I trailed off, indirectly asking for her name. There was no point in covering what she has already seen. Plus, I'd rather not focus on the dirt being in uncomfortable places.

She rolled her eyes. "Yes, I do. But shouldn't a gentleman offer his name first, before asking a lady's?" She offered a spirited grin, letting me know that she was partly joking. I simply arched a brow, looking back down at my grave. The woman's smile widened. "Oh, I like you. Penny was right on the money with how you'd react." She inclined her head, reaching behind her back as she did so. "Please, dear sir, you may call this one Soralynn. I will be your guide for so long as you wish it." Soralynn straightened up and pulled her hand out from behind her back, holding out what appeared to be a dark grey cloak. "But, please, call me Sora. We'll talk more at the safehouse, where the chance of being overheard is almost nonexistent."

I regarded her with suspicion for a few moments, internally debating on whether I should trust her. My gut, though, despite her knowing I'd be climbing out of a grave, my grave, told me that I should at least give her the benefit of the doubt.

The cloak was looking nice right now.

With a decisive nod, I took the cloak with a word of thanks and pulled it over my shoulders, letting it fall to rest over me. Leaving my head exposed, it covered the entirety of my body with room to spare.

Soralynn nodded with approval, her eyes trailing over me with a studying eye. "Good. People shouldn't pay us any mind, barring heavy suspicion from an outside source. The safe house is near, so follow me closely." She locked eyes with me and grinned wide and playfully. "Rejoice. Food and clothes await you, Joseph Blaine."

Blue. Last I remembered, my eyes were blue. Not red. Not a color that reminded me of the freshly-spilled blood. They were crisp and sharp, focusing on my reflection with an intensity that surprised me, despite being my own eyes. The faint slash scars on my lower left cheek, a wound from an early battle. My black hair fell a few inches past my shoulder, curly, wavy and still drying from the brief bath I had taken not a few seconds ago. My bangs reached the corner of my eyes, flowing in front of them, much to my irritation. I frowned as I regarded it, grabbing some of it between two fingers. It must have grown while I was ‘dead,' which did not make any sense…

A sigh escaped me as I straightened my posture and studied my current outfit. I wore a pair of black silk pants over a pair of white, knee-length braies and white cotton shirt with the top buttons undone, revealing the top of my chest. Looking around, I took in the ‘bathroom.' There was a large open-topped barrel pressed against the wall, sat atop a bed of coals so that it could be heated; there was a bench across from it and a mirror on the wall next to the bench. It was cramped but served its purpose. I was cleaned and clothed, ready to learn from this ‘Soralynn' just what the hell has happened since I've…been dead.

Turning, I strode towards the door and left the room to see her at a desk, writing out a letter on a piece of parchment. The room we shared was more significant than the bathroom by a large margin. The poorly lit room had a set of candles at each corner and drawn curtains. There were a wooden desk and two stiff back wooden chairs, one of which she had taken. There was a single, large king-sized bed pressed against the far wall and a dresser at its foot, with a single drawer opened. On the far wall, there was a closed window, with a pair of parted curtains.

As I stepped inside, Soralynn looked up and grinned over to me. "You're done. That was fast." She lifted her quill and waved it. "Just writing a letter to Penny. She's going to want to know that you're awake."

"Who is ‘Penny'?" I asked her. "You've brought her up three times already." I tried not to demand it of her, but my thinning patience was making it unnecessarily complicated.

Her eyes widened minutely, with a look of surprise and…glee? "I see. It's like you were born for it…" Soralynn's expression became muted, but happy, and then she shook her head. "Penny is a friend. She was the one who sent me to pick you up and help you reach the rendezvous point safely."

I narrowed my eyes at her. "What's to stop me from going back to my friends? I'm sure they'd be happy to know that I'm still alive."

"Aside from the fact that they saw your dead body?" Soralynn retorted, not unkindly, even as I glared at her. She flinched minutely at my regard, but her smile turned brittle. "How about the fact that it was one of them that tried to get you killed? That did get you killed."

I froze at her words before a feeling of rage surged through me. "How about you try not lying to me?" My voice came out as a raspy growl, rumbling deep within my chest. Soralynn stiffened at my expression, a look of evident fear in her eyes before she collected herself and met my gaze without hesitation.

"I would never lie to you." She said with a pained sincerity, her voice gentle and frank.

My resolve crumbled at her mien. It would be a simple matter to scoff at her words, but a part of me refused to do so. I didn't want to, I could believe that I did, but I couldn't help but recognize that she was telling me the unvarnished truth. Closing my eyes, I released a calming breath and strode over to the only other chair and sat down to face her. Clasping my hands in front of my face, I leaned forward and opened my eyes to meet Soralynn's. "Tell me why I should believe you."

At that, Soralynn's smile returned. It wasn't cocky or mischievous but instead welcoming. "To get the best answer, the answer you need, we'd need to start at the beginning." She turned from the desk, facing me fully. "Would you be willing to tell me just how it is exactly the 13 Heroes appeared on Verum?"

I frowned at that, leaning back in my seat. A sigh escaped me. "Before I even consider answering that, I have one more question." She nodded to me. "How long has it been since I ‘died'?"

"One year."

My every thought came to a screeching halt. A year? Buried alive in that damn grave for a year?! My breaths hitched, freezing as my heart began to pound. At that moment, my hand shot to my pocket to grab my inhaler. An attack was coming. I wouldn't be able to breathe, so I had to use it before things got too out of ha-

I froze, remembering that I was wearing a different pair of pants.

I froze, remembering that she told me that I've been dead for a year.

I froze, realizing that I could still breathe perfectly fine, despite my sudden surprise.

…tasted like smoldering magma, hot in both temperature and intensity. Tears fell freely down my face as my sweltering throat unwittingly restricted a scream of pain. Her sorrowful gaze studied me as she lowered her hand, the twisted and bent knife pointing to the ground.

"I'm sorry for what's going to happen to you. The pain is something I wouldn't wish on my worst enemy." Eyes as blue as the open, empty sky above us regarded me with sadness, but not pity. Only acceptance. "To spare you from the pain…" She paused, her eyes hardening with resolve. "You'll have to die."

With strength I had no idea I had, I scrambled back to my feet and twisted around to run away from her, though the corners of my vision were dimming. I passed by a tree after tree, until my vision decayed and failed, slowly submerging me in darkness. The sound of the roaring winds, the feel of falling leaves, were all that let me know I was still running, my sense of touch gradually getting lost in the all-encompassing burn.

She didn't pursue. Nor did the shadows that surrounded her. All I could hear was her weak apology, remorse filling her tone.

I ran. I ran until it was no more than drunken stumbling, the pain from the steadily burning sensation had encompassed by lungs. Ragged, wheezing, breaths escaped me as I finally collapsed to my knees. I couldn't breathe, my searing lungs tightened painfully as if refusing to listen anymore. Consciousness was slipping from me, slowly dragging me away…

A pair of hands clasped my arms, keeping me from falling even farther. "Don't worry." A familiar voice broke through the haze in my thoughts, causing me to look up to see…looking down at me. I knew that I could trust this voice…

"You don't have to fight anymore." A pinching sensation in my chest caused me to cough wetly, the burning becoming just a bit more bearable… Looking down, the last thing I saw before losing consciousness was the point of a stained, chipped sword sticking out my chest, painted scarlet with my blood.

I jerked out of my recollections, breaths coming under control once more. My stiffened limbs relaxed as I placed a hand on my chest. Whether it checked if a wound was there, or if my lungs were mine, I didn't know. All I knew…was that Soralynn would probably not…be twisting the truth.

Sora didn't look surprised at my reaction, simply studying me with a masked expression. "Any physical afflictions you had before your ‘death' are gone. However, it's not your body we're concerned about, but your mind." She leaned forward, her eyes finding mine. Pale amber took on a more noticeable glow as her lips curled in what appeared to be restrained excitement. "Your memory may be afflicted by your body's death and rebirth. Some things may have been lost, or twisted, in the process of your transition." Seemingly against her will, Sora's mouth twisted into an excited grin, revealing inhumanly perfect teeth. "And I'm especially capable of ferreting out deception, both intentional and accidental, so we agreed that I would be your ideal guide."

"Who is this ‘we,' you keep bringing up?" I asked her.

Soralynn didn't answer immediately, her glowing amber locking with my blood red. "Let's trade answers. I'll tell you everything, everything, including things that Penny doesn't want you to know yet. In exchange, you tell me how you and the other twelve Heroes ended up in Verum."

"Quid pro quo," I stated. Sora nodded, not looking away from me. Then I sighed, closing my eyes as I tried to gather my chaotic feelings. Almost instantly, I felt a frightening clarity of thought. Everything homed in one specific point in my shaky memory. The one point where it all started…

"Alright. It all started on the day I was nearly late for school…"