The Nightmare Wizard

Darkness... again.

But this time, it wasn't a silent and cold void like before. This darkness burned—it pulsed... it hurt. It felt as if my soul was being dragged through a raging torrent of foreign memories and emotions that were not mine... but would soon be.

It was like falling endlessly into a pit of liquid fire and fractured echoes.

Then—I breathed.

I gasped for air, as if I had risen from the grave itself. I coughed and panted. My chest burned, and my fingers trembled like they had awoken from an icy slumber. I opened my eyes, but the world was blurred, veiled behind a crimson mist that tinted everything in blood-red hues. My senses returned one by one, each reclaiming its place in a body teetering on the edge of collapse.

I was lying on cold stone, soaked in dried blood. That metallic taste filled my mouth.

Around me, smoke blanketed a silent, cursed battlefield.

Mutilated corpses, severed limbs, scorched armor.

The stench of death was everywhere—stale blood, rusted steel, burnt flesh.

Columns of smoke rose into the gray sky like offerings of despair, while flies buzzed around the bodies and crows feasted on moist, lifeless eyes.

And then... I felt it.