Reawakening

You awake in a dark room. An acrid smell, like miscast arcana, fills your lungs with your first inhalation. The muscles in your body are tight, making you feel that your sleep was fitful, as if you were forced to defend yourself against some ghastly apparition or metallic construct. In your mouth the sweet-yet-savory residue of some grand feast still lingers. What do you do?

. . . rise from the bed . . .

You sit up and shake the knots from your limbs. Running a hand over your face you wipe the dust from your eyes and take a look around the room. You do not remember coming here. In fact, you are certain that you have never seen this place before, that you have no clue where “here” is. You stand and feel the blood rush through your body for what seems the like the first time in ages. As you examine yourself you are surprised to note that the clothing you wear is also unfamiliar, clearly not your own yet fitted perfectly to your body.

. . . examine the room closely . . .

You are in a stone-walled chamber, like a cave mined out of pure-black obsidian. The bed you previously laid upon, seeming so soft, is actually made of glowing amber covered in thick moss. On a small stand made from the stump of a wide, grey tree is a book. You pick up the book and feel a cold surge through your fingers, and it is strangely comforting. The book seems to be bound in a frosty hide. You attempt to read from the tome but the letters swirl and dance, confusing you. You carefully close the book and tuck it under your arm. As you turn you notice a large wooden door, stained red from exposure to the unusual elements that dance through the air of this place.

. . . go through the door . . .

You grasp the solid brass handle of the door and swing in open, revealing a long portal before you. Enlivened, you stride through the doorframe and into the unknown.