Chapter 1: In The Beginning

Flashes of color crossed his gaze, each one forming into a new scene. A stormy forest. A rickety house. A woman, whose features melted from her face like wax as he reached for her. An old hag, clad in red robes. A whirlpool, expelling flying spirits from its murky depths. Each vision flashed before his eyes, only to vanish before he could take a good look at them. Suddenly, a new vision appeared. A figure, clad in faded robes, stepping across the ledge, and plunging into the abyss of the whirlpool. He felt himself falling, and falling. Time lost its meaning. The fall seemed never ending. The last thing he truly remembered was the bone jarring impact as he crashed to the stony ground.

As for how much time had passed, the man never knew. He never knew how long the fall through the whirlpool took. He never knew how long he had laid there, splayed out on the stony floor. The only thing he did know, was that he was no longer unconscious. With a heavy grunt, he slowly raised himself onto all fours, and crained his head upward. Instead of being greeted by the sight of iron grey clouds and flashes of lightning, he found himself staring at an almost complete darkness.

He had trouble determining where the ground ended and the sky began. The only feature that stood out from the darkness was a huge, white crack. Light poured in, giving a glow similar to that of the moon. As his nervous eyes adjusted to the dim light, he examined the area. The man could just make out a path, which led towards a warm, orange glow of light, and out of sight.

Placing his hands on the floor, the man was about to rise, when something about his hands stopped him. He looked at his fingers, and suddenly realized what was wrong. His normally pale hands were now a mottled shade of green. His heart rate quickened as fear began to take shape in the pit of his stomach. Trying to shake off the fact that something was seriously wrong with him, he slowly rose to his feet and straightened up. He took an unsteady step forward, and nearly lost his balance. He reached out and grasped one of the several stone columns that stood around him.

"Wait...Columns?" the man thought to himself, perplexed. Keeping a steady grip on the stone, he turned and looked up, suddenly realizing what he had been lying under. A large, stone gazebo stood above him, softly glowing in the dim light. Long dead moss hung from its curved roof, covering a series of carved lines within the stone. His gaze travelled down, noticing a series of ornate circles that were carved into the gazebo's cracked floor. Oddly enough, there seemed to be an imprint on the exact spot where he had landed; a shadow that distorted the floor's grey color. He blinked, staring at the spot where the shadow lay. It was now gone.

The man's heart fluttered, fear coursing through his veins. His gut told him to get as far away from the stone gazebo as possible. He gladly heeded his own advice. He pushed off the stone column, and stumbled up the grassy path as fast as his unsteady legs would carry him. The man quickly passed through a gap between two hills, and found himself in a small field. As he stumbled on, he saw piles of what appeared to be bones, lying underneath the grass. To make matters worse, he heard the footsteps of something rustling through the field. It was getting close too. Gathering his strength, he pressed on, exiting the field and crossing a rickety wooden bridge.

He soon found himself bathed in a warm, orange light. In front of him stood a… house. Except, it wasn't a house. It was a massive tree, with a door embedded in its trunk. A lone torch sat outside the door, trying to overcome the darkness that lay outside. It flickered as the wind blew. Despite the fear that threatened to overwhelm the man, the light made him feel...safe. He felt himself relax as he slowly hobbled over to the door. His eyes drifted over to the flame of the torch, watching it fight and struggle to keep the darkness at bay. Something about it seemed...familiar, but he couldn't place it. He remained where he was for a few minutes, before finally turning away from the flame and grasping the door handle. He gently pushed, and the door slowly swung open with a shrill creak.

A moment later, a cold, cackling voice pierced the silence. "Heh heh heh… what seems to be the ruckus?"

Inside the room sat three old women; two at a table, one by the fire. Each was dressed in blood red robes. A younger woman stood nearby, dressed in simple maid attire. A roaring fire cracked in the fireplace, spreading a warm, orange glow across the gnarled walls of the room. The man regarded the room with a calm and relaxed expression, momentarily forgetting what the voice had said. As his eyes fell upon the three old women, a sudden flashback crossed the man's eyes for a millisecond. An old hag, clad in red robes… He had seen one of these women before! Shock crossed his weathered face

"Ooh my! Your face..," muttered one of the women. "The face of the curse."

The man stopped cold. "Curse? What curse!?" the man thought to himself, unable to speak through his disbelief.

"It's an Undead," cackled another of women, the one nearest to the fireplace. "An Undead has come to play. Heh heh.."

The shock had now faded from the man's face, but confusion had taken control. The man knew nothing of the "Undead" things that the woman had spoken of. He didn't even know anything about himself. He couldn't recall his memories, nor his past. Not even his name. Before he had a chance to speak, the woman continued.

"They all end up here, all the ones like you."

Again, the man found himself unable to speak. The woman, who seemed to have sensed the man's confusion, pressed on.

"You spoke to that kind old dear, didn't you? Heh heh…"

Though the man continued to remain silent, his thoughts rushed through his head like a tornado. He thought about the old hag, the one he had seen is his vision. Had he actually spoken to her? Actually met her? If that was true, then were the rest of his visions true? He was so absorbed in his thoughts that he almost missed the hag's next comment.

"You're finished. You'll go hollow…"

"Hollow..," the man whispered.

"Yes, you will become one of them."

Before the man even had a chance to question himself on what a "Hollow" was, one of the other women had already provided and answer.

"Hollows prey upon men, feast upon their souls..," she went silent for a moment, watching the maid place a small cup on the table in front of her. "This is the fate of the cursed. Heh heh heh…"

Suddenly, all of the women were laughing and chuckling to each other. The man shifted his feet uncomfortably. None of this made any sense.

As the laughter died off, the woman who hadn't spoken yet, turned her gnarled face to the man, and asked, "What is your name?"

The man remained still for a moment, caught off guard. It was a simple question, but it seemed like the hardest one in the world. No matter how hard the man thought, he couldn't clearly remember it. It was on the tip of his tongue, like a carrot held in front of a hungry rabbit, but just out of its reach.

"Umm," he whispered, his gaze wandering around the room frantically. His eyes settled on the fire. As he watched the flames flicker and flare, he suddenly began to remember.

"Ha-..Hak-...Hakon," he stuttered, suddenly beginning to lose his focus. The room swam in his vision, and he had to grab the table to steady himself.

"At least you know your own name," chuckled a woman at the table.

"Barely," Hakon thought to himself, still clutching the table with an iron grip.

The woman reached for something deep inside her robes. "Here's your reward for sharing." She produced a small, rounded shape from her robes. It was shaped vaguely like a man, with a pronounced head and body. However, it was completely hollow, with small brown fibers crisscrossing across the body of the object. It looked extremely fragile.

"It's a Human Effigy," the woman said calmly, extending it toward Hakon.

Hakon slowly extended his arm, and gently took the Effigy from her grasp. It was light, almost as light as paper, but not as fragile.

"Take a closer look," came the woman's voice. "Who do you think it's supposed to be?"

However, the voice sounded as if it came from a tunnel, growing fainter and fainter. As Hakon's eyes stared into the Effigy, his peripheral vision began to fade. He suddenly felt lightheaded, and swayed on his feet.

"Think back, deep into your past." Her voice was even fainter now; barely above a whisper. Darkness was overtaking him. "Yes, it's an Effigy of you…"

Hakon felt the Effigy suddenly crumble to dust in his hand, and the floor gave a mighty lurch. The last thing he saw before he hit the ground was a faint flicker of flame, then complete and utter darkness.