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Somewhere in the deep, inky black expanse of the void, a small, turbulent, dim little white soul floated without purpose. It shimmered like a dying star—fragile, flickering, and yet obstinately persistent. The light it emitted was vague, like the glimmer at the end of a dying dream, yet unyielding, as if clinging to some fragment of meaning. Colors—muted, mournful, a pale spectrum of what once might have been brilliance—flickered through it, refusing to die.
The void rippled—not with sound, for no sound could exist here—but with tremors of intent. Something ancient stirred. A presence. A voidly being, immense and incomprehensible, approached the drifting spark with caution that bordered on reverence.
Impossible, it thought. Intriguing.
The void consumed all. That was its nature. Timeless, formless, endless consumption. What entered was forgotten. What touched it dissolved. Yet this small, fragile soul remained—undaunted, adrift, alone.
The voidly being hovered in contemplation, tendrils of nothingness curling around the soul without touching it. A silent judgment passed through its immeasurable consciousness.
What are you? Why do you persist when all else crumbles?
It projected its will—an invitation, a whisper through reality's cracks. Not words. Concepts. Intention. Curiosity. Perhaps even… recognition.
The soul stirred, its pale glow flaring for a moment like a heartbeat. Amusing. Very intriguing.
Then, slowly, like ice thawing in warm water, the soul began to reshape. Form took hold. Limbs. Torso. A face, creased with stress and pain, yet unmistakably human.
"What the fuck…" the figure muttered, his voice distant, as if traveling through a thick fog. His eyelids fluttered open. Empty blackness surrounded him. "Where… where am I?"
Pete—Good ol' Pete—groaned, clutching his head. His voice echoed as if the void itself mocked him.
"What happened…?"
Then, clarity hit like a freight train.
"The bastards… they injected me with that—serum… Maxwell." His eyes widened, remembering the sterile room, the sharp sting, the laughter. His heartbeat spiked—if it still beat at all.
But there was no ground beneath him, no air around him. Just… this place. This hollow nothingness.
As Pete tried to orient himself, he remained oblivious to the being looming nearby, casting its eyes—if such things could be called eyes—upon him. How could he notice it? Perception had its limits. The void did not.
Yet the being observed, fascinated by the man's coherence, his mind intact. Most souls screamed until they faded. Most didn't retain identity.
This one… clung.
Pete drifted, confusion slowly giving way to frustration. "Is this hell? Or purgatory? I swear to God, if Maxwell's got me in some twisted simulation, I'm going to—"
"You are not dead. Not fully," came a voice. It echoed from nowhere and everywhere, gentle yet powerful, like wind through shattered glass.
Pete froze.
"Who said that? Who, what are you?"
"I did," the voice answered, patient. "The one who watches. The one who waits. The one you should not have reached… and yet here you are."
The void trembled, briefly forming shapes Pete couldn't comprehend—fractal wings, shifting masks, or maybe stars collapsing into singularities.
Pete swallowed hard. "You… pulled me out?"
"No. You survived the void. You should not have."
"How?"
"You clung to pain. Regret. Rage. A strange mix of mortal fire." There was amusement in the voice now. "You fascinate me."
Pete scowled. "Glad I can entertain. What now? You gonna eat my soul or something?"
"Would you like that?"
"… No?"
"Then I propose something else."
Pete narrowed his eyes. "Like what?"
"A bargain."
The word rang like a bell in a place that had never heard sound.
Pete's gut tightened. "What kind of bargain?"
"You have lost your world. Your life, your name… all burned away by those who claimed to wield progress." The being's voice deepened. "But I can offer you another beginning. A new world. A new body. A second chance."
Pete's brow furrowed. "…What's the catch?"
"Ah." The being sounded pleased. "Spoken like someone who's suffered."
"Yeah, well. I'm not dumb enough to trust a cosmic stranger without knowing the price."
"Good. You shouldn't. It'll help you go a long way boy."
A pause followed, heavy and absolute.
"There is a cost," the being finally said. "And when the time comes, you will pay it. No running. No delay. I, however , do not deem you worthy of knowing my cause.Do you accept this price?"
Pete clenched his fists. His whole life had been a series of traps, disappointments, betrayals. But to start over… even if the future held another noose, wasn't that better than rotting in this eternal nothing?
"…Yeah," he said. "I'll pay it."
The being grew still, and for a moment, everything—reality, time, thought—hung on that single word.
"Then it is done. Let the void be your anchor."
Pete's soul burned—no, ignited. Light burst from him in a pulse that rocked the void. He screamed, but it wasn't pain—it was transformation.
His body dissolved. Reconstructed. The void fell away. And far, far beyond the emptiness, in a world unknown to the greater humanity and preserved in the corners of another universe, a soul was reborn merging with another into a new being and absorbed into a body.
Nobody knew, nobody could have known but in the new world, an utterly broken legacy was about to be wraught.
The deal was made.
And someday, the cost would come due.
The dragon's majesty and pride are untamed, uncontested and absolute
[A/N: I'm still a lil bit stuck on where I want this to head as my brain is just filled with ideas that I don't know how to progress, ciao]
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