The Immortal woke from a nightmare into nothing.
No light. No air. No sound.
His heart flickered weakly, like a dying fire. His eyes burned, closing against the weight of centuries.
I am the great Immortal… and yet I can do nothing, he thought. Pathetic. How did I fall into such a pitiful state?
A bitter laugh rose in his throat, swallowed by the void.
Maybe in the next life, I'll make them regret it—if they even have an afterlife to suffer in.
His heart began to pound faster, each beat a drum of finality. Was this night? Day? He could no longer tell. He could no longer remember.
And then—
A sound pierced the silence.
A soft flutter, like wings slicing the air. Then light. A single pale glow swirling in the endless dark.
The Immortal squinted, sneering. So pathetic… am I dreaming of something beautiful, even now?
The white shape circled him again and again, until it landed upon his blood-stained shoulder. Only then did he see it clearly: not a bird, not a flame, but a woman. She unfolded out of the light, clothed in flowing white, her face as sharp as a blade.
"Well, well," she said, her voice both mocking and reverent. "Isn't this truly the Immortal?"
She leaned close, her breath brushing his ear.
"You're quite in trouble, aren't you?"
The Immortal turned his gaze on her, eyes burning like coals in the dark. She flinched—just a little. Fear flashed across her face before she steadied it.
"After all these years," she whispered, "you still carry fear in your eyes."
He stared back, unblinking. His voice was low, jagged, carrying centuries of rage.
"Who are you? And why are you here?"
The woman straightened, her expression firm. She did not falter this time.
"I'm here," she said, each word striking like a hammer, "to set you free, Master."