It’s been God knows how long since he’s paid attention to anything.
There have been far too many years of drifting along, incorporeal and indifferent, so it’s no surprise that he barely notices when the ocean begins to churn. Instead, he gazes along the same blurred landscape he’s been staring at since he died, wondering why his soul refuses to move on, despite the centuries that have passed since his body rotted to nothing but bone. His eyes fall to the sandy shore, wishing, yet again, that he could feel something beneath the feet that are not there.
He’s not even sure why he feels this maddening yearning to walk among the living once more, for he barely remembers anything from his time, let alone anyone that mattered back then. Even if he could remember, he couldn’t see how any would even still be alive to keep him tethered to this earth. Magic was still fairly new, or at least much harder to come by than it is now, and it’s very possible that immortality was an inconceivable idea at that point.
As he stands, trying to recall those he loved in the past, the darkness drapes itself across the scene, though he still does not fully comprehend his surroundings. No, rather, he is lost in his annoyance that the names and faces refuse to come through as clearly as the feelings that remain. How much longer must he continue this frustrating existence (if you can call it that)?
The screams of fear tickle at the edges of his awareness, but it still takes far too long to recognize the changes the beach is being subjected to. But finally, the sounds get to him, and he looks up at the dark creature that looms above him, that dominates the darkened sea and its roiling depths. Well, that’s certainly different. As intended, the demon’s haunting melody compels him to slink ever closer, though he believes to be drawn in by the impressive figure it cuts against the star-strewn sky.
This time, he easily notices the others that gather at the water’s edge, and finds himself awed as he watches their physical rebirths. How fascinating to see bones, stained and pitted with age, arranging themselves into their proper places as tendons, muscles, and skin spawn from nothingness to bind the skeletons into whole beings once more. A vague tingle works its way through his formless essence as he witnesses these intriguing acts of macabre magic, and before he can begin to think that it might be happening to him as well, he realizes that he can feel what seems like every grain of sand beneath his feet.
He looks down to see inky black legs, seemingly whole and pristine. Surprised, he twists slightly to see a similar pair of hind legs exactly where they should be. A soft rustle as he does this tells him that his matching wings will be there when he looks for the rest of his body, and sure enough, they lay neatly against the slicked out, bright red coat that he knows so well.
But the discovery phase does not last long, as the myriad voices invade his mind, shouting so loudly that they cannot be ignored. The statement is innocent enough, but the voices are weighted with a variety of emotions that send twinges of guilt reverberating through his newly reborn body. He quirks his head as he goes back to looking at the dark creature, wondering what its intentions are.
And so he cannot help but assent when it poses its question.
“Certainly.”