Listen. I'm going to say something that is going to sound completely crazy.
My name is strong in this world. I am the King of Kings, the greatest warrior of times equilibria. You may recognize me as the King of the Danes, the King of the North. Hell, most everyone knows me as the greatest Viking in northern history.
But here is the secret that no one knows. I was not always this legendary character. I was once an ordinary man from the contemporary age. Likely a great deal like you.
Yes, you heard it correctly. I used to be totally normal.
I can just about hear you laughing here. Believe me, I know. Everyone feels they're normal, right? No one considers themselves different from other humans.
I was like that in my twenties. The same mundane existence that I thought everyone had. The same routine, the same everything. I worked, I had friends, the same routine that millions of people do every day. Nothing strange. Nothing that would cause anyone to double take if they were out walking down the street and saw me.
But life has this twisted way of pulling the rug out from under you.
My normal life fell apart in the worst possible manner. I was killed. And not by any serial killer or random person, but by the very individuals I'd always trusted.
The treachery stung more than the blade that took my life. I shall spare you the grisly details of my demise. Truthfully, it was quite mundane as killings tend to be.
What occurred after I died, however? That is where it got intriguing. That is where my actual life truly started.
Death was not the finale. It was just the interval.
I was standing within what could only be defined as a void. Standing before something that challenged every conception I'd ever had of the afterlife. This wasn't God, wasn't the devil, wasn't any god of any religion I'd ever known.
It was something different altogether. Something that was beyond the usual laws of being. The being emanated an unearthly presence that made my soul feel tiny and irrelevant.
The creature examined me with a scrutiny that seemed to be cutting apart each second of my two decades plus of life. Each choice, each error, each minor act of kindness. It took in my whole life in what seemed to be a moment.
Then, with no fanfare or explanation, it produced a gigantic wheel that seemed to come from nowhere.
I'll never forget what it said. In a voice that appeared to be coming from everywhere and nowhere simultaneously: "Your pathetic life is over. Now you get to spin the wheel of judgment."
Terror doesn't even begin to describe what I felt at that instant. My hands shook as I reached out to the wheel. But the presence of the thing was completely neutral, almost clinical. It wasn't evil or good. Just indifferent. Like some cosmic bureaucrat processing one more case.
I had no clue what I'd done in my previous life to merit this. But clearly, it could not have been that bad. At least, that's what I said to myself as I took the wheel.
The wheel itself was massive. It was adorned with symbols and words that I could not entirely decipher. My shaking hand caused it to spin, and I looked on as it turned with a mesmerizing cadence that appeared to decelerate time itself.
As it finally came to a stop, my heart sank as I read the answer: "The Past."
The words struck me like a blow. The past? What could that possibly mean? Was I to be returned to relive my shortcomings? To witness history? Not knowing was nearly as terrible as the fear.
I felt my awareness start to slip as the entity's world broke up around me. My eyes became heavy, and in spite of my struggles to remain awake, I fell into a deep sleep.
When I finally awoke, everything was different.
I was aware of being awake on a floor of hewn stone in the center of what looked like a primordial forest. The trees loomed above me like cathedral columns. Their branches formed a canopy so dense that only shafts of dappled sunlight could filter through to the forest floor.
The air had a different scent. Cleaner, somehow, yet wilder too. Unbridled by civilization.
My body wasn't right. I was sweating profusely, and my muscles were sore as though I had been running for hours. Sitting up slowly from the rock that had been my bed, I knew that my clothing had entirely transformed.
My contemporary clothing had disappeared. Replacing them was a coarse grey tunic, blackened pants, and a sheepskin tied around my legs. The material was rough against my skin. A far cry from the man-made clothing I was accustomed to.
"WHERE AM I?"
The words ripped from my throat. Painful and raw with confusion. My head throbbed. I pressed my palms into my temples, attempting to comprehend what was occurring.
Memories hovered just beyond my grasp. It was as if attempting to recall a dream that was already slipping from memory.
I knew something important had happened.
But the details remained frustratingly elusive.
"I don't recall. why can't I recall a thing?" I stuttered. I shook my head vigorously as if I could literally shake the lost pieces of memory out.
The strange apparel irritated me more than it ought to have. I lifted the coarse material of the tunic. Studying it with increasing bewilderment.
"What are these clothes that I am wearing? I never used to wear anything like this." The material was handmade. Primitive compared to anything from my time.
"Come on, brain," I muttered to myself. As if speaking to myself would dislodge the forgotten memories. "What was I doing prior to this? How did I get here?"