Journey of an Unkindled

In life, Victor LeGrande was a man of great fortune. He had a loving wife, two young daughters, and a not-small piece of land where he’d built a large, beautiful house for his family.

In death, Victor LeGrande would be a man of considerable less fortune.

With a jolt of life and a sense of purpose, he tore through the earth and pulled himself out of the shallow grave. He heaved up dirt from his lungs and cursed. His heart was pounding with an unusual ferocity; his ears rang and his vision blurred as he came to life, causing him to fall back and sit.

He didn’t know where he was, he didn’t remember what had happened. The last thing he could recall was a concerned look on his wife’s face, and then through a sudden darkness, her voice calling out to him.

Victor slowly pulled himself to his feet and dusted himself off. He’d been stripped near-naked, with only a loose pair of slightly weathered pants to cover himself.

He took in his surroundings- it was a small graveyard enclosed by a small fence, but more enclosed by the unscalable rock faces that surrounded the entirety of the area, save for the fence’s open. There was only one way to go.

Directly in front of him, in the damp soil was a message written in a glowing red ink. He leaned down to read it.

“Use The Left Stick To Move, LOL”

Curious. Next to the message was a long sword implanted in the ground. He lifted it out, and brushed the dirt off of it. It seemed brand new- as if it had been forged and placed their especially for his awakening. It was a one-handed sword, and in his life he’d been trained by a master with such weapons to help defend his town from invaders.

He questioned why a weapon had been given to him, and suspected that it must mean that he would be in danger.

He moved cautiously forward to the fence’s gate, and when he reached it, another bright message waited for him on the ground.

“Be wary of left.” The message was covered in what seemed to be spit.

And just like that, he heard a hiss from behind a boulder up. But from his right, not the left. He kicked dirt over the message, cursing whoever had left it, and gripped his sword tightly, moving toward the boulder.



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