Viisa Hauron, god emperor of the Meridiem Empire, lay bleeding to death on the steps that led to his throne. He huffed, smoke and steam hissing between his fangs, and clutched the bloodied wound that seeped through his dark robes. The window beyond revealed a smoke-flooded sky, tinged with flickering orange flames as his capital was steadily razed by the invading horde.

  "Foolish boy," he spat, hunching over the steps. He tried to cast a spell, yet the magic in his meridians simply would not flow. His magic, for the first time in his life, was cut off from him. His glowing green eyes, blazing within a head that had magically warped into a sloping, beastly skull, locked onto the shining golden sword of his attacker.

  A blade wreathed in pure antimagic, which had warded off his wizardry and diminished his power with every successive strike. How had this so-called hero managed to get his hands on such a thing? The perfect counter to his normally impervious defences, the only thing to ever get within striking distance of him...

  If the gods existed, they were playing a cruel jape upon him. Handing the perfect tool for his demise to some worthless bumpkin.

  Said bumpkin, huffing for breath and adorned in plate armour that had been singed and scorched by Viisa's power, raised the blade and aimed it toward the emperor's neck. "You've spent so long tormenting and killing others. Bringing nations to ruin. And now... now you're finally getting what you deserve."

  Viisa clenched his clawed fists until his knuckles strained. This couldn't be happening! Decades of conquest, countless victories, only to now be brought down by some fool?!

  He raised a hand, tried to draw upon his power again. Instead he slipped on his own blood, landing harshly on the marble steps. His magic refused to heed his call. The strength that had wiped away armies, slaughtered any foe that dared stand in his way, his oldest and truest companion... It had finally failed him.

  "You don't even recognise me, do you?" the blond asked, looming over Viisa. He trembled with anger, enough to make the plates of his armour clink.

  The emperor spat a gob of blood onto the floor. "Should I?"

  "You... you destroyed my village! Your men killed my parents! You were there when it happened! On your damn steed, watching the extermination you personally ordered!" he shouted.

  Viisa's crooked jaws twisted into a smirk. "You have no idea how many times I've heard speeches like that. From small-minded fools who can't begin to comprehend the prosperity and security wrought by my empire. You think you're special? That you mean anything to me? You're nothing. A speck. Even in killing me, you still mean nothing to me. I’ve already forgotten your name."

  "Damn you!" the boy spat, gripping his blade tighter.

  "If you're going to kill me, get it over with. I'm sure I didn't waste any time with your parents."

  The hero's nostrils flared. He swung his blade in a smooth arc, cleaving the dark lord's head from his shoulders in a single stroke.

  Thus died Viisa Hauron, god emperor of the Meridiem Empire.

  Several seconds after his death, Viisa Hauron opened his eyes to find that his battle-scarred throne room had been replaced by a vast white chamber that dwarfed it in size, the pentagonal walls lined by an assortment of colossal scroll shelves. Strange red glows, like swarms of fireflies, flitted about the chamber.

  One briefly passed by Viisa, highlighting his reflection. The figure that stared back at him had once been human. A tall and stooping figure adorned in dark robes, his flesh the colour of bleached bone. His pursuit of power, and an assortment of dark rituals, had morphed his head to resemble the skull of a deer, with sharpened antlers that flanked the sides of his head.

  At the far end of the chamber sat a massive desk. Seeing nowhere else to go, and still clutched by a bewildered confusion, Viisa made his way toward it.

  As soon as he drew close enough, a swarm of the strange red specks flew in unison toward the desk. It surged and swirled, dancing like leaves caught in an updraft. In a flash they merged together in unison, morphing into a curvaceous silhouette that could only be described as feminine.

  The female figure floated behind the desk, her ivory skin and slow white hair bordered by a crimson glow. "Ah, Emperor Hauron! I've been expecting you!" she said in a cheery voice.

  Viisa snapped a clawed hand toward the strange figure in a reflex. calling upon a spell of disintegration. Nothing came.

  She tutted and shook her head. "Oh, come now Viisa. Did you really think I'd invite your soul into my domain and not keep your magic out of reach? That would be mighty foolish of me!"

  Growling, Viisa lowered his hand. Unlike the self-styled hero, armed with a weapon that could dull his power, this figure could seal it away with a thought. The prospect of such a being left him uneasy, but he would not show fear or weakness. "Who in damnation are you?"

  "Ah, well," the female figure sat on the varnished wood of the desk, her long hair flowing and flickering upward like a perpetual flame. "I'm something of a judge of souls. Arbiter of the dead, overseer of the afterlife... I have a fair few titles, pick whichever appeals most to you."

  "So, that bumpkin really did kill me," Viisa muttered.

  Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.

  "Afraid so! He got you really good!" the stranger cheerily said. "Well, if you keep doing terrible things, it'll eventually catch up with you. That's just how the universe works."

  Viisa glared up at her with his burning emerald eyes. "Send me back. I have unfinished business with that wretch. And more to the point, I don't have any intention of abandoning my empire."

  The floating figure offered him an apologetic smile, clicking her tongue inside her mouth. "No can do," she replied, offering him a simple shrug.

  "You have the audacity to deny me?" Viisa hissed.

  "Sure do! And, the power to deny you too. I'm sure you're no stranger to bossing people around with your magic, but that's not going to fly with me." She leaned forward, resting her chin on her right hand.

  Viisa looked her in the eye. "Who do you think you are?" he asked in a venomous growl.

  A strange twinkle of mischief appeared in the woman's eyes, her lips forming into a playful smile. "Call me Tulpa. I'm the one who will decide your new life."

  Silence filled the chamber as the two stared each other down, more glowing lights drifting aimlessly around the chamber. "What do you mean?" the wizard eventually asked.

  Tulpa chuckled. "Every culture, across the vastness of the multiverse, has a different concept for the afterlife. By and large, most souls undergo some kind of reincarnation.A never-ending cycle of spirits migrating across realities. For the most part, individuals never retain memories of their past lives. It's less... messy that way."

  Viisa slowly nodded along to the spirit's explanation. "That makes sense," he eventually admitted. "So you wish to... reincarnate me? As some husk with no memories of myself?"

  "Not quite. As I said, the majority of reincarnated individuals have no memories of their past lives. But, occasionally, there are those who are reborn with their memories and knowledge in tact."

  "For what purpose?" Viisa warily asked. They surely wouldn't do something like that at complete random, and he could see something in Tulpa's expression. For as aloof as her smile was, he could sense the tension and anxiety in her posture. Years spent as an emperor had left him all too aware of such mannerisms.

  "I can't quite say. Not yet, at least. But all you need to know is that you're getting another chance."

  A hissing chuckle rose in Viisa's throat. "This is a lot to take in. But I'm not one to look a gift horse in the mouth. A chance to kill that so-called hero. As if I'd turn down such a thing."

  "Different life, different world. Sorry. You won't be seeing your old world again," Tulpa replied, giving him another carefree shrug.

  Viisa glared at her, anger rising through his body like magma getting to surge in a volcano. But he contained himself. These were the rules he would need to abide by if he was to maintain his memories. And so long as he had his memories, he could eventually get what he wanted.

  He was the greatest master of magic in his old life. Who had conquered the Citadel of Brilliance, who had singlehandedly defeated the Sacred Triad, and had learned every spell from every grimoire sequestered in the libraries of Mandala. If there existed any magic that could get him back to his home, his empire, he would find it. And if any power allowed him to overcome Tulpa, he would find that too.

  He had climbed up from rock bottom once before. And would do so time and again, no matter how many attempts it took, until he sat at the peak of everything, never to be defeated ever again.

  "Fine," he bitterly growled. He would play along, for now.

  Tulpa clapped her hands together, smiling brightly. "Wonderful! Then, let's progress to the next step." More of the embers in the room swirled about them like a scarlet maelstrom, before they formed into a long luminous curtain. Images swirled inside this glowing mass, forming into what appeared to be a map of a continent.

  Viisa, who had studied the map of the world in fine detail as he conquerd it, knew at once that it was not any landmass from his old world. Westward lay the sea, pockmarked with whirlpools and strange tides of fog. The east was ringed by a wild and untamed mountain range, and he could not quite tell what lay beyond.

  "What in the world am I looking at?" Viisa replied, scanning the landmass.

  “Your new home. There are always worlds in crisis, places that need to be saved by strong and capable individuals. Such as yourself, with your vast arcane knowledge. This Empire is called Elthreme, perched comfortably on the world of Aquilonia. And, currently, it is beset by two great crises. Nothing you can’t handle, I’m sure.”

  “Ha. You think me some kind of hero? Why do you think I’d even involve myself in such business?”

  Tulpa leaned forward, a wolfish smile breaking out across her pale face. “Well, you can bury your head in the sand if you would like. How you live your next life is entirely up to you. But, well, you’ll die in that case. And in that case, your soul will be washed clean on your next life. No memories, no experience, nothing. You’ll be a blank slate, devoid of what made you... yourself.”

  Viisa’s fangs glistened blood red in the light, and he bit back a curse on his tongue. “I’ll get what I want, Tulpa. Of that you can be certain.” No magic was beyond his grasp. He’d get back to his empire sooner or later, even if he had to tend to these ‘crises’ in the meantime.

  Tulpa floated up from her desk until she was reaching the ceiling. Another swarm of crimson specks flashed into existence around Viisa, racing around the emperor like a living whirlwind. "Well, I'll wish you luck in that case, Emperor Viisa. I'm sure we'll meet again! But, until then, enjoy your new life!” The flash enveloped Viisa, and he vanished from Tulpa's office in the blink of an eye.

  All was silent in the coastal village of Strafford's Harbour. Night had fallen, and many of the locals had retired to their homes, lit by quartz-powered lanterns that beamed a neon glow through the windows. Each house, fitted with a towering chimney, was belching plumes of pale smoke into the air.

  The full moon hung in the air, colossal and radiating a white glow. Whenever the clouds parted, it was easy to see the scarred surface of the lunar soil.

  Members of the local militia patrolled the borders of the village, keeping an eye out for any beasts in the distant brush, or any drowned men emerging from the sea. On a normal night, it would have been silent and serene, disrupted only by the twittering of nocturnal birds.

  Tonight, however, the Alcett family home was filled with the sounds of pained cries. Marrah Alcett, gripped in the pains of childbirth, was bedridden while the local medicine woman wiped her brow with a cold, wet rag.

  She had done what she could to soothe Marrah's pain, a selection of herbs and alchemical droughts. Yet, when it came to the act of birth, there was only so much one could give before it became a risk to the unborn child. "Just a little more," the portly medicine woman said in a soothing voice, wincing at the occasional cry from her patient.

  Marrah's husband, a looming tanner with ashen hair and a wild beard by the name of Levins, awkwardly tugged at the collar of his shirt. He was much the same now as he had been at the birth of their first child, still every bit as nervous.

  Well, the medicine woman wouldn't fault him there.

  "Deep breaths Marrah, deep breaths," the medicine woman said in a soft voice.

  The night bore on. Save for the Alcett family home, all was peaceful in Strafford's Harbour. Yet far afield, across every continent on Aquilone, arcanists and magi were starting to stir. Many of them were gripped by a sudden chill, able to sense something utterly immense ripple through the firmament underpinning the universe. Shockwaves of qi that shook many of them to their bones.

  The moment Marrah Alcett's second child was born into the world, every arcanist seemed to know that someone of immense potential had appeared from the ether.

  Marrah sank into her pillows, panting for breath. "I..." she reached up and pressed a hand to her face, trying and failing to sit upright. "I can't hear any crying... a-are they alright?"

  The medicine woman feared the worst, initially. But she felt somewhat calmer as she bundled the figure on the bed, who gurgled and squealed at being lifted. "They are alive, calm yourself. Breathing well, eyes full of life... Strange. I can't recall ever a living child being born without letting out a cry."

  "But..." Levins took a steady step forward. "The... the baby is alive, yes?"

  "Oh, certainly. Though it's uncanny... Well, the strangeness aside," the medicine woman handed the newborn to Marrah, who happily cradled it in her arms. "You are now the proud parents of a beautiful baby girl."

  And said newborn baby girl had but one thought in her head in that exact moment:

  Oh Tulpa, you bitch.