Shame is but a taste of ignorance for those who ignore repeated signs. Those who may never learn; never evolve; never ascend. Yet even creatures from the darkest of tales, and the rawest of powers—immortals too, may fall victim to “humanity’s” greatest flaw, and yet its biggest strength: love. The capacity of such vivid feelings and color. Thus, leading to the most damaging and hollowing effect in reverse, save for the destruction that come hence after. Such was the case for the resting immortal.

  Scenes of a splintered past, a broken trust, a web of lies, and a love that burned brighter than even Rhindall’s Flames painted his mind.

  The lesser immortal’s body—distant and incorporeal, but still ever present—felt weak, so terribly weak. Yet, with a sudden influx of an aching chill, a hollowed numbness coated his veins, and the immortal took a mental sigh of respite, subconsciously commanding the darkened space around him to collapse in-upon itself.

  Space around the immortal shattered like glass, resounding with a defiant screeching wail—from the universe and its laws or rather… the breaking of such. The forbidden, though, intoxicating power, however brief, of Gods, of a true Ascended…

  The darkened silhouette, visible only by an obsidian-tinged golden spark—the immortal’s fiery soul—dissipated like smoke.

  …

  and in a “backwater” realm, a young, scorned prince woke.

  ???

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  Darkness lingered for a time period that was simply unquantifiable, and as such, darkness blended into light when only such was deemed time. Felrith's mind stirred, and his dimmed core woke with a giddied fervor; his golden-inked essence churning upon his wake.

  The routine of rebirth slumber was familiar enough now that there came no panic when Prodigy registered his emergence back into the confines of reality. He took measure of the situation. His mind stirred with the distant tingling of his newfound physical senses, and with a blaring light penetrating the darkness—of a tangible sense—Prodigy opened his eyes in pained squints.

  He saw the world around him for the first time in his newfound existence. Prodigy took a second to scan his memories, where two lifetimes of memories flashed by. He inwardly grunted, diverting his attention elsewhere, to the vessel he now inhabited, to his current form’s past self. Prodigy exerted as much focus as possible, but alas—as usual with the ritual—a complete lack of memories remained.

  I’m tired of this, Prodigy sighed. His attention now focused on his vessel and the physical world around him. His hands were oddly pale, like snow; stirring his attention to his body temperature, which felt inwardly frozen as well.

  Well, this is…. wait… wait… no, Prodigy inwardly thought.

  Prodigy had dove into his mind’s eye for the first time in this life, his third and what now seemed to be final rebirth, for the ancient scroll that was once housed in his inner core of immense power… was no more.

  It’s ethereal pages sundered beyond recognition, sprinkled across the desert of his core, where once an entire realm of Mana stirred.

  Oh fuck, Prodigy gasped internally.

  It seemed… he was also something far different than his past, both his original life, and his rebirths thereafter.

  Damnit, Prodigy thought, internally screaming, as he watched his once glorious golden core seep with both pain and pleasure. But to a soul, long hunted and persecuted his whole existence—with no means of fighting back—what was a little pain?

  Pain was pleasure. It meant he was alive.

  For now, at least.