Darkness. That was all He could see. A great emptyness, devoid of light. Light? He knew what light was. But why? No memories, just void, as if there never was anything in the first place. Something strange was happening. While he was pondering, pressure was building up inside of him, growing, becoming unbearable. Then, the strange silence and stillness was broken. Things became chaotic, He took a deep breath, he had to breathe, things started to move how he had never experienced them before, but it still felt....familiar somehow. Suddenly, there was light, blinding light, and details, impressions, more things that weren't a part of him drilled themselves into his mind's world. And then, sounds. Another new kind of impression, but this one conveyed another, different kind of meaning. By instinct, his body moved in such complexity that he could only be stunned, as he stood up on the slab, his eyes darting and held something in his hand in a strange way. Sword. How do I know all these things?! Questions were piling up in his mind, high as the sky, and not a single answer. His breaths were still frantic and deep, until he realized that he could reduce his breathing by a lot without risking death. And with his breath, his mind too started to calm down. There are no answers inside, so they must be outside then. There were others in the room, doing things, speaking, asking. He had no answers for them, so He watched. It didn't look like they knew him, and nobody was approaching him, so he carefully turned his attention back to himself. In his hand, he held this thing, a sword. It was white, and he felt a strange sense of deja-vu looking at it. He knew it. His hand itself was covered in strange white lines, lines that dissappeared under.....some kind of robe? As he continued, he felt something was obstructing his sight, clinging to his face and burrowing into his neck while looking down at his upper body. With his left hand he confirmed; there was a mask on his face. He didn't dare remove it yet. The last thing he found was a strange accessoire under his robe, directly above his heart. With every heartbeat, it would send a strange power through him. Having it not touch his skin made him uncomfortable, so he quickly put it back. Others around him also had masks, or helmets, but many had taken them off for some time, looking at them as if reading. When he did the same, carefully, he found a strange poem, and a name. Tal. Tal. Tal. My name? The poem did nothing but confuse him. Narrowing his eyes, he looked at the others that were still here. "Why don't you go ahead?" He, Tal, would not allow himself to be careless. He would be the last to leave this strange room.