“No, please!” a strange voice shouted from the depths, a desperate plea for help. Both fear and anger were palpable in the distant cry, almost lost within the depths of the dark waters.

The old dwarf then woke. He found himself lost, confused. His body floated in the chasm, neither cold nor warm, effortlessly drifting in the calm depths. His eyes darted frantically, searching the abyss for the mysterious voice, meeting only the shimmering glow of the waters. Weird orbs of light floated around him in almost hypnotic patterns. The quiet peace enveloped him, the gentle embrace of the water reminiscent of a distant, safe, but lost memory. But just as his gaze finally found the distant light of the surface above, he felt a sudden shock. His lungs started to collapse under the lack of air, and he felt it like a mule’s kick to the chest as he began convulsing in sudden pain. 

He fought with all his strength to swim up. And when his hand finally pierced the surface, his body shaking in pain, he desperately started gasping for air. He opened his mouth as widely as possible and drew the deepest breath he had ever drawn in his long, dwarven years. Or so he tried. As if the very air around him wouldn’t allow it, he could not escape suffocation. Like an agonizing animal, the old dwarf kicked and shook in blind fear. But no matter how hard he tried, no relief would come. 

But he fought like he did his whole life. He kicked and shook until he pulled himself out onto the rocky shore. And as he desperately scratched the flesh out of his throat, hoping the air would somehow find its way in, he convulsed on the ground. Seconds felt like days. The glow of the shining waters turned ever so darker until he had no escape but to give up. Not in shame, he did, but in desperation. His black eyes rolled back into his head as he closed them for the last time, surrendering to the overwhelming sensations, not even strong enough to curse his damned fate. 

He surrendered.

“What have you done…?!” the mysterious voice cried again, echoing in the rock walls around him with desperate fear and pain. 

His eyes shot wide open again. An eternity may have passed. Or perhaps just another minute or hour. He looked around for the source, but there was no one. The gentle breaking of water against the rocks was the only thing breaking the deafening silence. He was alone.

As he stared into the liquid body, he saw it pulsate with energy, illuminating the surroundings and casting an eerie glow on his wrinkled face. Now sitting on the edge, looking up, he noticed the towering cliff walls that rose up on either side of him, their jagged edges jutting out like the teeth of a giant monster. The ravine seemed to go on forever, with no visible way out. He felt a sense of isolation and confinement, trapped in this otherworldly place with no escape.

Doubt surged in. 

He then stared at his hands, feeling a tinge of panic rise within him as he noticed how ashen his skin had become. The veins on the back of his hand were more prominent than usual, and his fingers looked almost translucent under the blue light. He pushed his thumb into his other palm, first caressing his skin and then harshly piercing it with his thick nail. Yet he felt nothing. Not his hands, not his pulsing heart, not the sharp rocks beneath him. 

It was clear to him now that this was not a dream he needed to wake up from. Something had happened to his body, something unholy and cruel, a punishment or a curse. He was damned. 

But he could not let this beat him. He would not. And so, clenching his fists, he left his body behind, choosing instead to dive into his mind, his last resource that held him to life. With his eyes closed, the old dwarf dove into his mind, searching for something, anything at all. But just as his body lay broken, his mind stayed dark. There was nothing, not any memory, not even a name. 

There was nothing within him or in this mortal shell of a body—a hollow vessel, once filled with song, now silent, his essence gone. 

“Wha’s this fate?” he muttered with a broken, quivering voice, deeply surprised the words came out from his breathless husk of a body at all. “What did I do?”.

The world around him gradually faded into darkness as his frail body surrendered once again to the overpowering fatigue.

“Who would put me in this prison of a dream, left to be crushed by the void?” he continued, his speech fading.

He fell, then, too weak to even move. And everything went dark. 

“Don’t ye run, coward! Not now…!” begged the heart-wrenching whisper again, breaking the cryptic silence in his mind. 

The old dwarf abruptly opened his eyes again, gasping as he awoke in shock from his defeated slumber. 

“You!” he yelled suddenly, peering through his messy, long grey hairs. “No. Don’t go!”

He stood up, screaming again with raw anger and desperation, frantically looking around, yet nothing had changed. No one was there. 

There was something about that voice. The dwarf remembered nothing before waking in the blue. Not his name, what happened, or how he got there. He could not make sense of the numbness of his body and mind, but something deep inside the void of his existence made sense, and it was that call. Like a divine pull, the very one that saved him from the depths, he felt the call deep within his being. 

“Please don’t go…” he whispered. 

He took a moment in profound silence. He could not make sense of Whatever unnatural prison was around him. Not the water, the rocks, his body, nothing. Not the light above the ravine, nor the lack of skies beyond that. He remembered nothing. He felt nothing.

Nothing but the voice.

He took a moment, resting his trembling hands against the jagged cliff’s edge. The ethereal glow of the water below played tricks on his eyes, making him see shadows and shapes that felt vaguely familiar yet disturbingly out of place. The rhythmic drip of water around him provided a strange sense of solitude, and he found himself tracing ancient carvings on the stone – depictions of battles, laughter, sorrow, and celebrations. A myriad of emotions rushed over him, memories that were not his own but felt as if they should be. 

The dwarf, though lost in this forsaken prison, felt a tether to this place, a bond he could neither explain nor understand. 

“Your past haunts you still,” spoke suddenly a mysterious voice. 

It startled him as it broke the deafening silence of the ravine.

“A Wanderer is a rare sight within the Gorge. Surely, you are astray”, it continued. The soft mutter came from behind, from above. He felt it all through his body, like a warm touch that filled his being. The first thing he felt since he awoke. 

The dwarf slowly turned to face the gentle messenger. Hovering in the air, an angelic being slowly descended to him. The porcelain being flapped its wings, lighting up the narrow cliff walls around it with its glow. It, in its divine beauty, was almost blinding.  

“Be my old dwarven sight deceiving me?” he finally muttered. 

“Forgive my tardiness in seeking you out. It is not the fate for a Wanderer of your kind to be cast into this forsaken place”, the angelic being answered.

“Me kind?” he asked hesitantly, unknowingly releasing his tight fists. 

 “I should have been here when you arrived. I’m sorry I was not,” they spoke again, lowering themselves next to him, towering four times his height yet inspiring no threat. “I am called Fae, once the Grand Archivist of my esteemed kin. Now, a beacon for those who wander lost. Such as you”.

Fae, with an aura of serenity, was stunningly beautiful. Their angelic appearance and soft demeanour immediately put him at ease. They had a gentle and soothing voice that could calm even the most anxious individual, and their contagious smile seemed to warm the old dwarf’s heart just at a glance. Their presence felt like a gift.

“By the stones… I… I heard a call”, he finally answered, fighting to stop tears from rolling down his cheeks.

Fae gently kneeled in front of him with a gracious smile, their glowing white eyes looking at him with compassion. 

“Rest your unease, Wanderer; this is all too common for your kind. The journey between realms can be a profound, confusing odyssey. Losing your very identity is but expected”, they answered. 

“Realms? Where— where be I?”.

“Most of us find our way to the Pool of Souls as we cross the threshold. There we are found and given purpose,” they said ominously. “Yet you seem to have fallen astray, my friend, away from where you ought to be. And that makes you a Wanderer: a wandering soul”. 

The old dwarf’s heart sank like a heavy stone. Suddenly, he realized that something had fundamentally changed about him, and it was a change that would haunt him forever. He felt a deep sadness envelop him. The lack of air in his lungs and the fact that he could not feel the cold or the sharp pebbles under his feet all made sense now. As he looked back at the cryptic waters from which he emerged, he saw something that he hadn’t noticed before, something that made his heart ache with fear. The glowing trails of magic that made the water shine moaned and whispered, and he saw that they had faces and hands caught in an ethereal dance. The cliffs around him were not just simple rocks but carved stones depicting the same bodily features of men, dwarves, and elves alike. He realized then that he was trapped in a place beyond life, a fate worse than he had ever imagined.

“But that means that I be…” he said, frightened, as he met Fae’s sight, tears finally set free. 

Fae smiled and gently nodded. 

“I am afraid so, Wanderer,” they answered with a straight face. “This is not the world you once walked. The time comes for you to be brave, friend, for such is the fate of the dead”. 

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