Chapter 1: A Buné Awakening
Death is boring.
I'm not in anguish, burning amidst the blazing expanse of a fiery pit while imps dance over my scalding figure—now while that's undoubtedly a relief since I didn't live my life as a saint per say, the faint comfort it brought alone wasn't enough to cure me of my perpetual ennui.
I still have my body, and my senses are mostly intact, at least the ones that still have a use. Taste is one of the exceptions since there isn't even a morsel of food where I am, nor does the sensation of hunger exist for me anymore.
My hearing barely has any use anymore, save for the occasional splashing of the jet-black lake I'm standing on when I shuffle my feet around.
My sense of smell has been rendered entirely useless. I don't know what this lake is made of, but I can say with certainty that it isn't saltwater since my nostrils can't detect the usual odour that it gives off.
I can touch the water below me, even dip my hand into it as far down as the reach of my arm will allow—but even that feeling is flawed. My brain is somehow completely incapable of deciphering whether or not the water is cool or warm. All I can feel is the wetness between my fingers and toes, nothing more.
As for my vision, well, there is a giant moon hovering in the distance, one that never moves or nears no matter what direction I choose to move in or how long I choose to proceed in said direction. I am thankful for its presence, though; it's the only thing illuminating the area around me.
If it weren't for the moonlight, I'd be entrapped in total darkness for the rest of my afterlife, however long this is going to last for.
Come to think of it, how long has it been since I arrived here? My brain doesn't appear to process the flow of time here; hell, it could've been eons since I got here, and I still wouldn't know. I mean, if this place was going to do that for me, then would it have killed it to have removed my ability to feel boredom as well?
The only thing I have for entertainment is the recollection of my memories, and if I'm being honest, recounting my life experience doesn't serve as very good amusement. There's not really anything noteworthy that went on in my twentyish years of living.
Middle-class home. Decent Education. Admittance into an alright Engineering Course. Although, now that I look back on it—there's no way I was making it through. I'm not even sure how I managed to be admitted in the first place; my mathematics certainly wasn't anything worth bragging about.
I did have a gardening hobby, so at least that's something.
Even my death wasn't anything special. I just went a little bit too heavy on the caffeine throughout my life. Probably should've listened to the doctors on that one—but as they say, with youth comes arrogance.
And boy was I arrogant.
Probably should've lived a more fulfilling life, even if I did die at the same age. At least I would've had some more interesting memories to gloss over while I'm here—whatever, or wherever here even is. This place doesn't feel like Hell, Purgatory, or Heaven to me.
I'm not in pain, I'm not being purified, and I'm definitely not experiencing pleasure.
Limbo, would be the most felicitous title I could give this forlorn expanse. No company, save for the moon, watching over me for all eternity.
Maybe this is what true death is. All the debating back on Earth on how one should live one's life virtuously ultimately just leads us to this—an abyssal lake to keep us company.
Honestly, sometimes I find it relatively peaceful here when I'm not brooding over the heart-wrenching monotony I'm eternally forced to face. When I look back on it all, I often find my train of thought frequently returning to my family.
My folks were good people. They did their best for me. Or at least the best they could. Sigh, it's a real shame that I couldn't do more for them.
I wonder how they're fairing? The obvious aside, of course. Losing a child is bound to be traumatic for any parent, at least for those who care.
I'm sorry, guys. If I ever get another chance, I'll make sure to stay away from caffeine. Consider it my tribute to the good parenting and support you graciously gave me throughout my life.
Swish! Swish!
All of a sudden, my body grew still. A sharp, looming chill crawled down my spine as I felt a ripple reverberate through the lake's surface to the soles of my bare feet.
Did I just… hear something?
Swish! Swish!
Yeah! I definitely just heard something! My mind's not playing tricks on me, is it? No, that can't be possible. If it were possible to go insane here and start hallucinating, it would've happened to me long ago.
Or maybe it wouldn't? I can't perceive the flow of time here, so maybe it's only been a second since I arrived, or perhaps enough time has passed for the sun itself to finally implode.
I don't know, and honestly, I don't particularly care. The fact that something has finally broken the deafening silence here is more than enough to put a wide, ear-to-ear grin on my face. It's like Christmas Day has just come for me.
"Hello?" I looked down, peering into the watery void beneath me without so much as blinking. My head shifted from side to side as I desperately tried to catch a glimpse of whatever had caused the ripple.
Strangely enough, I couldn't help but turn to the moon, as if something in my gut was compelling me to face the ominous, ever-present backdrop. "Did you do something? You've been watching me for however long I've been here. So if you think I haven't been suspicious of you, you're dead wrong bucko!"
Clasp!
"Woah!" I jolted in place, a shadowy tendril reaching up from the oceanic depths like a creature of myth and wrapping itself around my ankle. The tightness of the hold was akin to that of a trefoil knot.
Ah. I believe it was a little brazen of me to assume whatever was happening was a good thing.
Splash!
The tendril pulled me downwards into whatever awaited me below, the air escaping my lungs as water infiltrated my respiratory system—allowing me to feel an immensely unpleasant, but new sensation.
I was drowning.
And soon enough, the darkness enveloped me whole. The rest of my fading senses were entirely ripped from my being this time, maybe even for good.
At least, that's what I presumed. After the passage of another unknown stint of time, I began to feel once more. Only this time, the sensations I experienced weren't nearly as pleasant as they were in the moonlit lake.
My mind was burning.
It felt as if someone had taken a scalpel to my head, and drilled a hole into my skull. Injecting a seemingly endless slew of new information, no—of new memories into my grey matter without my consent. The life I lived on Earth, and the life of someone completely different overlapping with one another. Throwing me head-first into a foggy haze of perplexity.
A torrent of words, terms, and concepts I couldn't make heads or tails of were rammed into my brain like a full-speed bullet train.
The pain was… unbearable.
The Underworld. Devils. 72 Pillars. House Buné. A brother plagued with sickness. Dragonification. The power of a Dryad. A father as strong as an ox. A mother blessed with sage-like wisdom. A tutor watching over me as a strict yet benevolent guiding force. Blood famed as being a double-edged sword. An inevitable ceremony awaiting my participation as it did my ancestors.
And most prevalent of all—a name.
My name.
My new name.
Alduin Buné.
My vision returned, and I was able to get a good look at myself in the mirror, within the confines of a room so lavish that most people could only ever dream about being its resident.
A big, beautiful king-sized bed planted in the middle with only the finest silks one could procure in the Underworld—which is apparently where I am. Draped with light-purple, semi-translucent curtains that offered an added layer of privacy and comfort.
A large balcony with a peerless view of the luster of House Buné's territory on full display, an area which bordered another esteemed territory we apparently had a strong connection to called—Dragon Mountain. Just from the name alone, I feel like it inspires a sense of reverence.
I've got my own broad, intricate study desk, which I seldom use according to my memories. Apparently, while I'm quite diligent when it comes to training my Clan Trait and sparring with my father—Sebastian Buné, I absolutely hate anything and everything academic.
Like with a seething passion.
I returned my attention to my appearance, examining the ash-gray wild hair that resembled a lion's mane in the mirror—akin to that of my father—and my deep verdant irises that resembled my mother, Martha Buné. My skin also seems to come from her with its pale pigmentation.
It's a little eerie, I'll admit, but I don't hate it. Truthfully, I'd be an idiot to complain about anything at all given my current circumstances.
In a way, it has its own contradictory appeal between bleakness and intensity. Put simply, I think my new look has its own charm. It's much better than my first body. I'll give it that, I guess that comes with the territory of being a Devil.
If my assumption is correct—I've been given a second chance, which was coincidentally the last thing I thought about before being dragged down to God-knows-where by that bizzare tendril.
Don't tell me that's all I had to do to escape the lake this whole time? No, it's probably better not to think about it lest I end up falling into a depression moments after being granted a new life. That certainly wouldn't be a fitting start to wherever this journey is going to lead me.
Now that I pay closer attention, I've got quite a few bruises and blemishes on my skin. All of which was a result of my hand-to-hand combat training under my Father, the only Buné to master the Dragonification trait other than our Ancestor—Selvaro Buné.
It looks like I'm in the land of fantasy now. Or maybe it would be more applicable to refer to it as my new reality, it doesn't seem all that apt to describe what's now real as fiction. I'm a Devil, with an awfully long lifespan, and powers that belong to my—
Knock! Knock! Knock!
"Young Lord," a mild, yet imposing familiar feminine voice called out to me from the other side of my bedroom door. Belonging to that of a woman my memories recall as Thora, House Buné's Head Maid as well as my personal tutor for Elemental Magic, and academics regarding the Underworld's History, namely that of the 72 Pillars, and the affairs of my family's territorial responsibilities and obligations.
However, there seems to be something I'm studying that my mother, in particular, values very highly.
A pact—with a figure, nay, a Dragon, that goes by the name of Tannin? How intriguing.
I did complain about boredom back at the lake didn't I? All things considered, I think this makes up for it Mr or Mrs. Moon, whatever you are.
"Yes?" I replied, my memories telling me that keeping Thora, or anyone in my family, waiting for that matter, would only lead to disaster befalling me, no matter how placid their voice made them seem.
"Lord and Lady Buné await your presence at the dining table," that sentence supposedly translates to get the fuck over here before we beat you within an inch of your life.
Fun.
"Very well, I'll be there shortly." I affirmed, adjusting the sportswear I had adorned and doing what I could to tidy up my very unruly hair.
"For your sake Young Lord, I'd change that from shortly to immediately." She left me with those words of justified caution before my ears twitched, catching onto the sound of her footsteps shuffling elsewhere.
Well then, I guess there's nothing else for me to do other than face the music that is my newfound family.
Here's to hoping I survive this encounter in one piece. The more I trace back the memories, the more I realize how overbearing this household's strictness is—especially towards me—it's Heir.
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