A vague sense of familiarity lingered in the air, yet the memories that were supposed to come with it stayed dormant within the mans mind. He felt.. As if his soul was at ease, leaving the mortal realm to it's devices, taking a moments rest from the world. He lay in a soft but simple, brown cushioned chair. He had never seen this small room before, however a sense of belonging sparked beneath his pale white skin. He felt like he had visited this place countless times.
Before coming to his senses, the man had taken a moment to take in his surroundings. A green carpet encompassed the floor, the walls being cut a rich dark oak. To his right, bright incandescent flames burnt in the fire place, fed by a few pieces of onyx black wood. That flame bled a sense of unease to the seemingly harmonic room.
In front of the man, two torches — the former lit with a nascent spark, the latter devoid of any flame — beside them lay a crimson red notebook, it's title in a language unrecognisable. The man reached towards it, revealing its contents. Each page was littered with strange runes and characters, weaving an intricate pattern. Up until the last page, that began the same as any other with the only difference being a violent tear half way through. Unable to make sense of any of it, the book was placed on the dark oak table, where it once lay.
Finally, dispelling his drowsiness the man tried to remember something... Anything. His name, origins... Current location. All of it was unknown, almost if it were wiped from his memory completely. A distant expression veiled his fair face and a sense of longing sparked in subtle shade of purple hiding behind a pair of light-less eyes. Rising from his chair he felt no resistance from the air — if there was any in this place — which no longer brushed against his unkempt snow-white hair.
The room was brimming with trinkets scattered across its small expanse. Some worth more than others. The notable ones included, A dark necklace illuminated by a single purple gem. far to it's left a single radiant red stone, overflowing with energy. Beside the chair he'd just been sitting in, two empty steel birdcages hung from the ceiling, alongside them, one luminous orange feather— long, slender, and seemingly plucked straight from a phoenix's crown. Additionally many paintings were set up against the wall, however none of which were noteworthy.
Despite this plunderers dream laid out before him, the only thing that managed to catch the man's eyes was a static grandfather clock. It bore no hands and no numbers, rendering both it's original purpose unusable and it's heavy golden weights useless. That slight discrepancy was enough to plant a seed of doubt in his mind, betraying whatever sense of time he had before.
Turning around he noticed a generously sized hole in the wall, fit in the shape of a door, two doors in fact. A man behind a small desk — lit up by a single red crystal — could be seen through that gap. A thoughtful, calm expression rested on his still alabaster face — too pale to be mistaken for a mortal yet it was not a white infected with the pallor of illness. His dark hair was perfectly combed, matching with his black suit and his black eyes had a quiet, attentive look, faintly veiled by a slight shade of milky white, drowned in darkness near the bottom of his iris.
Approaching the man, he realised the same type of crimson red book was opened on his desk, the first page blank and ready to be written in.
Before he could gather the loosely spread thoughts in his mind, a voice cut through the tough stillness enveloping the room.
"Ashes to ashes, dust to dust."
The man's eyes flickered. Wanting to ask a question, however he restrained himself waiting for the stranger to finish speaking.
"When you're ready to depart The House of Purgatory, and pass to the far shore, I will be here to guide you along your travels"
"Excuse me but, who are you? And more importantly this House of Purgatory place, where exactly am I?
"Ah yes, introductions. Pardon my rudeness. It's been a while since I've gotten to give an earnest one. I am the Ferryman, as for the rest, you won't remember any of it anyways. To save us both time let's just think of this place as the beginning of the cycle. Feel free to explore Purgatory some more, unless. You'd like to leave now."
Considering the Ferryman's words the man took a second before answering.
"Yes. I'd like to set off."
"Will your next form be as your son, or as your daughter?"
"My son."
"So be it. Goodbye for now."