A deep breath, a gasp for air that did not singe his lungs and burn his throat, and he knew he lived once more. Accursed life flowed through his body and the sensation of once more having a body wrought despair through his mind. He lay where he was for a few moments feeling sand against smooth, untainted, skin praying that when he opened his eyes that mark, that burning contract would be gone from his body. He opened his eyes and looked to the front shoulder where the mark lay twisted and burned, it's gaping maw pulling in light hauntingly.
He howled into the night like a wounded beast as anguish took over him.
He cursed the gods, he cursed the mark, he cursed Velka for punishing him this way and he cursed the fire and the light howling and writhing in the sand. So entrapped by his anguish and childish outburst he had very nearly missed the light and warmth nearby. A fire. He ceased his childish tantrum and rose from his spot finally taking in the stark white and black landscape around him. The colour he saw came from the ember that filtered on the sands refusing to burn out despite the lack of fuel.
He was promised peace after the linking, he was promised death, he was promised no more strife. But here he stood before another fire that demanded fuel, he had barely considered this fact when the snarls of a beast took him by surprise. The maw of a black leathery skinned opened as he wheeled around only to have it clamp around his neck and his crimson vitality pulsed out into the sand. His world turned black as he prayed that he would not wake. But he knew he would.
He awoke once more beside the ember still fluttering and stubbornly defying the will of the dark. His smooth skin now replaced with stretched leathery hide and he knew what this fire needed of him. He set to work looking over the horizons about him, seeing the tracks of the beast fade away into the distance, and set off after the beast with just his fists and the iron will to kill the beast. His feet dragged in the sand and he refused to look elsewhere as he followed the beasts tracks barely needing to stop to rest thanks to his natural undead fortitude. He did not know how long he had been tracking the beast, the moon solemnly stared it's place on high down at him and never seemed to cease doing so, but he passed rock formations and dunes far beyond that which he had seen before. Yet even as he travelled further away from where he had started he could still feel the pull of his fire, like a moth to a flame.
He saw the cave like rocks far before he could see it's inhabitants but that soon changed and he found himself staring down the same beast that had attacked him. It's face was armoured much like the Capra demons of Lost Izalith but where the Capra had skull and bone, this strange thing had pure white bone. It slithered like a basilisk yet possessed the elongated mouth of a drake. It seemed to smell his approach and reared its boned head to let out a roar at him but instead of noise came a blast of blue energy that he had no time to avoid. He felt his body crumble and his world went dark.
He awoke once more by his ember and looked out to the distance, truly a strange world, he thought to himself. He stood up and instead of following the now covered tracks he spied a clump of rocks in the distance and trudged through the sand to it. He needed a weapon.
The rocks were difficult to break but having eternity gave the undead plenty of time to be patient in his work of slowly but surely chipping away at a rock with his bare fist. Many times he bled out striking the rock over and over again with just his fist but he did not stop he followed his own beaten path back to the rock each time he awoke. Sometimes a larger of the strange white masked beasts would come along and kill him, speeding up his work, and sometimes he would spy a smaller white masked creature watching him with curiosity. Finally after all of his work the rock crumbled and he was left with what he desired, a chunk of rock large enough that he could use as a weapon.
A voice taunted from beside him in a language he could not understand, it was one of those creatures, a white masked dog like being.
With speed he did not know he possessed he grabbed at the creature managing to get it's tail. It bit and clawed at his arm trying to tear itself free, but he would not be dissuaded so easily, and he brought the rock down on its mask once cracking it and then once more again shattering the beasts boney face. It's body turned to strange ashes and began to float off in some unseen wind but caught in a vortex of some sort and his dark mark burned as it consumed it.
'Hueco Mundo'
That was where he was, his first souls had given him that name, it's name unfamiliar to him he marched back to his ember and knelt before it to offer the soul he had collected. It grew that day from a single ember to a candle light flame and that sweet blissful sensation of pride welled up in him.
He would summon fire from dark and then he would find his way to peace.