Awaken, and arise, my champion.
It was with this silent, psychological command that his eyes snapped open. Engulfed in absolute, oppressive darkness, a solitary quel'dorei lay upon a cold slab of some unknown metal, consciousness drifting back to his mind, to this hollow, battered shell, at the compulsion of that Voice.
And it was indeed a compulsion, quickening the frozen ichor in dead veins, stirring some strange semblance of life into this preserved elven corpse. He could feel the eldritch, unspeakable power tingling up his spine. With consciousness came a revival of form and thought.
Do you remember who you are?
It was an odd question that greatly confused the elf, as the darkness before his vision parted only slightly to reveal an arched, faintly glowing ceiling that appeared to be inlaid with bones.
Who am I?
...yes, the question was odd, because it did not seem to be all that terribly important to him. What was important, above all else, was that Voice. Deep and soft, it caressed the elf's mind like cold silk-no, velvet. It weighed down upon him, as though it would threaten to smother him entirely in comforting darkness, though it was little more than a whisper. It was seductive in its tone, caressing his consciousness, and the elf could have lost himself in it forever. And he found he could not lie to that Voice-truly, the thought had not even occurred to him, it would have been anathema.
"No, Master. And I don't care," he whispered aloud, rasping in Thalassian, his voice strangely distorted-hollow, like this shell he inhabited.
The Voice sounded pleased when it responded, almost purring, and the elf sighed in content.
You have passed the first test, my champion. For who you were in life no longer has any meaning. It is who you are-who you will become in death that matters now. That is your first lesson.
"Death..." his voice echoed across the silent chamber.
Death is the End. And Death is the Beginning.