I was born in the small town of Râmnicu Vâlcea in Romania. The Black Death had already claimed hundreds of lives and the townspeople were fearful and weary of the slightest sign that an individual may be infected. This fear is what set in motion the events that led to an untimely death of one very unfortunate young man. My name is Roxas Karvoski and this is the story of how I died and the events that followed thereafter.

Romania- November 16, 1738:

The church bell tolled once, twice, three times and then twice more. It was autumn and evening was drawing ever nearer. The setting sun shone upon our backs as we made our way back through our small town of Râmnicu Vâlcea and to the safety of our homes. These days it wasn't a good idea to leave the house more than was necessary; not when the Plague was sweeping through the area with the savagery of a wild fire. With me were Hayner, Zexion, and my best friend Axel.

"My goodness, Roxas! Did you see her face? Such a pretty shade of mulberry!" Hayner crowed, his hazel colored eyes crinkling at the corners with his amusement.

I shook my head, golden locks falling into disarray around my face. "Perhaps you should not have pushed her so far, Hayner. Naminé is not one to forget when she has been wronged."

Hayner carded a hand through his hair, his fingers catching on the dark blonde curls. He had a slight scowl on his face from my complete lack of interest in what had happened earlier that morning.

"It was naught but a bit of fun, Roxas. Surely your sister will not take it too seriously, aye?" Hayner asked with a chuckle.

"She can bear some pretty hard grudges," Zexion murmured as he tucked a piece of his slate colored colored bangs behind his ear; sapphire eyes full of knowledge.

Axel flicked a piece of his copper colored hair from serious green eyes. It was a sign of agitation. His gaze flicked toward our blonde friend. "What I do not understand, Hayner, is why you have yet to ask to court Naminé. You make it quite apparent that you fancy her."

Hayner stopped in his tracks, his look of amusement quickly falling away to show his previously hidden nerves. "That apparent, aye?" He turned to me. "Tell me, Roxas, what would you get for the lady who means the world to you? Riches? The finest silks and velvets? Nay. None of that can ever show what Naminé means to me."

I looked at him a moment, pondering his confession. "You love her, do you not?"

". . . aye," Hayner responded with a sigh.

"Then confess to her, not to me. There are others who wish to have the hand of my sister. Seifer plans to avidly pursue her when he returns from his apprenticeship at the forge. In all honesty, I would rather have you as a brother than that barbarian."

"Would you? Even though Seifer comes from money?"

Axel scoffed. "Bah! Coin could flow from his ears and he would still not be a better man than you. Money cannot buy true happiness, Hayner. Talk to Naminé, she would be a fool to say no." I nodded my agreement as we continued to walk and converse about our individual fancies.

Our conversation was brought to a halt by the sudden fit of coughs that hit me. I had been suffering from a bout of flu for the past two weeks and was still getting over my illness.

Hayner gave me a concerned look. "Are you well, Roxas?" He reached foreword to place a hand on my shoulder but it was swatted away by Axel.

"Do not touch him, 'tis the plague!" Axel yelled.

My eyes widened in horror and I hurried to reassure them. "No, it is not the Plague! I swear it!"

But it was too late; the townspeople had already been brought to attention at Axel's cry and murmurs were beginning to spread through the growing crowd. I knew what was to happen as I had seen it many times before. Already I could see the undertaker heading towards the steadily growing mob, a large wooden box hefted over one of his broad shoulders.

My gaze flicked from person to person and stopped on Axel who had procured a wooden broom from a nearby house. He held it tightly, hand clenching the handle right above the bound twigs that made up the tail. "I am sorry, Roxas, but we cannot allow you to infect the rest of the town," Axel said softly, jaw clenched.

"You will regret what you are about to do, Axel. I beg of you, for your sake as well as mine, please, do not do this."

"I will regret nothing; not if it will save the lives of many!" With that, he struck me with the broom handle and I fell back, my still present fever making my dizzy enough that I was unable to remain balanced. I toppled into the awaiting box that I had seen the undertaker carrying not a minute before. I glanced over the side of what was to be my prison and saw my sister, my dear sweet Naminé, struggling violently against Hayner's grip. Her face was flushed and tears streamed down her cheeks in small rivulets, but her eyes held a fierce determination that promised me either freedom or retribution. Then all went dark as the cover of the box, what I now knew to be a casket, was set into place and nailed shut.

I lay in silence for what seemed like hours but was probably only minutes before the panic set in. My breaths came in short, shallow gasps as I tried in vain to bring fresh air into my starving lungs. I clawed at the top of the casket in a futile attempt to break out; feeling my nails break and tear from the flesh. I stopped only when the stinging and throbbing from my fingers became too much to bear and my limbs were trembling from my effort to escape. The coppery scent of blood from my abused fingers filled the small space and white spots swam in my vision from lack of oxygen. Then it stopped. There was nothing. No frantic panting. No panic. A sense of calm settled over me and I felt myself drifting off into sleep. I went willingly.

Romania- November 23, 1738:

I awoke startled. I tried to sit up only to realize I was still in the casket. How long I had been in there, I knew not. All I knew was that I had to escape. I tested the lid, not expecting to make much headway, but was pleasantly surprised when it lifted slightly. I let it fall back into place noting how the stale air had taken on an earthy scent when I had lifted the cover. They had buried me. They must have removed the nails to check that I was not still alive, but how could they have made such a mistake? Surely there was some sign of life within me when the cover had been lifted. I silently chided myself; now was not the time for pondering. I steeled myself and pushed as hard as I could against the lid of the casket. The wood gave a sharp creak and gave way under the pressure of my hands; sending dirt and other miscellaneous debris into the air.

I blinked in surprise at my surroundings. I was in the town's graveyard. The clouds moved to reveal the full moon. How odd, the moon was not to be full tonight. I placed this information into the back of my mind and took better stock of my surroundings. A pale moonbeam fell upon a slate headstone that lay to my right, bathing it in a light silver glow.

My curiosity got the best of me and I read the inscribed text: Here lies Roxas Karvoski, victim of accidental homicide. Survived by father Cloud, mother Tifa, and sister Naminé. May he forgive us for our sins and guide our way to heaven. I blinked in confusion. Surely this was a joke. I could not possibly be dead . . . right?

I jumped slightly as a twig snapped somewhere off in the distance. After scrambling out of the grave, I replaced the lid to my casket and covered it with dirt before scurrying behind an old, gnarled tree. The silence was becoming heavy, almost suffocating when I finally spotted two hunched figures making their way among the graves. As their voices floated towards me I recognized them as belonging to two of the town's elders. A short silence fell between them as they stopped in front of the grave that I had just crawled from.

"Oh, Roxas. How you have been wronged. How much time did you have left before you? Twenty years? Thirty? You were only seven and ten years. 'Tis a real shame for one such as you to die so young."

The second elder turned toward the first. "How long has it been now? A week since the funeral?"

"Aye. His family is still very much in mourning. Who could blame them? Roxas was Cloud and Tifa's only son and he was taken from them before his time. Such an unfortunate misunderstanding. . ."

The discussion trailed off as they moved farther from the grave, my grave, and continued back to the village. I really was dead then . . . so how is it I was standing here, very much alive? I shook my head to rid myself of the questions that were beginning to cause a headache. Now was not the time for questions but for actions. It was apparent that I could no longer stay here; not when everyone expected me to be dead. I took a deep breath and began walking away from the grave yard, from the village, and from my life as Roxas Karvoski.