His eyes opened slowly.
An indescribable pressure was crushing him, as if his skull were about to explode. But the worst part was the suffocating sensation, like he couldn't breathe anymore. He didn't understand a thing.
His hands were tied. After a few seconds of mental chaos, he realized he was underwater.
— What the hell am I doing here? I thought I was dead… My soul was taken during the exorcism…
His body was beginning to give out. In a final burst of clarity, he managed to free his wrists. With the little energy he had left, he swam, fighting against the darkness, until he reached the shore…
— What's happening…?
His head felt like it was going to implode. Thousands of confused thoughts were waging a silent war inside his mind. In the pitch-black night, his weakened eyes couldn't distinguish anything—not even the tip of his nose. He couldn't think anymore.
— Is this the road to hell… or my punishment for my sins…?
He gave a faint smile. Then his eyes closed.
His eyes opened slowly.
Despite the constant pain coursing through his body, he managed to sit up. His thoughts were muddled. What was he doing in this lake, bound, injured? As he inspected his body, he found deep wounds, as if he had been tortured. But what disturbed him the most was the gaping hole in his abdomen… slowly healing.
It made no sense.
His memories were chaos—indescribable, like his mind was splitting in two, exposing a thousand shattered images.
— Whose memories are these…?
He wondered. Fragmented flashes came to him.
Claus Bloodfall. That was the only name these memories seemed to whisper.
In the blurred echo of this borrowed memory, he tried to remember…
— I am John Clain… the most powerful exorcist…
That's all he could recall. John Clain, the greatest exorcist mage. Sandra Clain, his wife… the most powerful of witches. And that cursed night… that infernal night when he had tried to exorcise what he thought was a simple vengeful spirit.
But nothing had gone as planned. Horror had devoured them. And their souls, drawn in by that thing. The void. The absolute white.
— I'm not dead. And this mutilated body… this frail body… it's not mine. And these memories? They're not mine. Claus Bloodfall… who are you?
He gathered his strength, stood up with difficulty, and leaned over the lake. What he saw froze him.
— Is that… my body?
He saw long golden hair… Blue eyes, nearly lifeless.
— Or not… What the hell is going on?!
Panic overtook him. All his senses were scrambled, blurred, failing.
— Calm down, John… calm down…
He stood once more, determined.
— Cleoxus vergi tam!
Nothing. Not even a spark. Disturbed, he realized that magic… was inaccessible to him. Not that he had lost the ability… No. It was worse.
Magic no longer existed.
At least, not for him.
— I need to pull myself together… I need to understand where I am…
Despite his blurred vision, he tried to make out his surroundings. But the fog was too thick. He could only see a few meters ahead.
Barely standing, staggering in a body that wasn't quite his, he began to walk. His mind desperately searched for an answer: Whose body is this?
But the information coming to him was blurry. Fragmented. Illogical. Thousands of questions spun in his mind.
What are these clothes? Why was I in that lake? How long have I been here?
He no longer knew. And honestly, he no longer had the strength to think.
Time felt distorted. He walked, again and again, through a sea of gigantic trees. His steps grew heavier. His muscles trembled. His breathing became more erratic… until he collapsed.
His breath faded, slowly.
Then he heard footsteps. Voices. And… dogs.
— He's here, Sir Claus!
His heart raced.
— Who are these people? Are they here to kill me?
He wanted to get up, to flee, to fight… But his last bit of strength left him. And his eyes, too heavy, closed in a final sigh of consciousness.
In a dark room, dimly lit by the flickering glow of magical symbols, circles were drawn on the floor, surrounded by ancient artifacts and dozens of hooded men in black. They held hands, chanting in deep voices incomprehensible words, lost between oblivion and forbidden knowledge.
At the center of the circle, a light-skinned woman with wild hair lay on the ground. She convulsed, twisted in pain. Her eyes turned entirely gray.
Not far from her, a man in his thirties, with golden hair and ocean-blue eyes, held her tightly.
Blood trickled from his nose.
He trembled. He screamed.
— Sandra!
He cried out with all his strength.
— Sandraaaaaa!
He woke up with a jolt.
It was only a dream… or rather, a fragment of shattered memories.
When he woke up, he was lying in a room resembling that of a castle. He was in a large bed, covered in immaculate white silk sheets.
In front of him, a large window opened to a radiant blue sky.
The room also held a large wardrobe, a desk cluttered with scrolls written in a strange language—though some of the words looked oddly familiar.
He examined the room in silence, his thoughts clouded.
— How are you feeling, Sir Claus…?
— Claus Bloodfall… So that's the name I go by now… he thought aloud.
— I don't know… Geoffrey…
Even he was surprised by how naturally the name came to his lips. He couldn't remember who this man was—this tall, slender man in his fifties, dressed in a black three-piece suit. A monocle circled his left eye. He stood upright, dignified, almost unreal.
— My body… feels like it's been pierced by a thousand blades. And in my mind… it's a war. Every memory I try to reach slips away instantly. Like sand between my fingers…
— I understand, Sir. And I am deeply sorry I could not protect you,
replied Geoffrey, his voice calm but laden with restrained emotion.
— We searched for you the moment your disappearance was announced. For weeks. Without a single lead… I must tell you, Lady Iris was on the verge of madness, Sir.
— Iris?
The name struck something deep within him. His soul trembled.
— Yes. Your mother, Sir…
Geoffrey watched Claus intently, a hint of worry in his eyes.
— You appear to be suffering from severe amnesia. Our finest alchemists are already working on a potion to restore your memory. Would you like me to add a mental enhancement elixir to the formula?
— Do as you see fit, Geoffrey… I'm exhausted…
— Very well, Sir. I'll send the maids to assist you. On that note, I'll take my leave.
He bowed slightly, then gently closed the door behind him.
— What is happening to me…? I don't understand anything anymore…
Claus stared at his reflection in the large mirror mounted on the wardrobe. His gaze got lost in the eyes of the man before him.
— I thought I was dead… And now here I am, in this body…
He stepped closer. The reflection showed a naked, thin, almost fragile body. A torso marked with old scars. Pale skin. Arms too slender. And above all… the hair. Long, golden, straight. And the eyes… blue, but almost empty, like extinguished.
— This body looks like mine, and yet it isn't…
He placed a trembling hand against the mirror, as if to confirm he was real. A deep heat rose in his belly. A shiver.
— If I'm alive… then… Sandra…
His thoughts crashed through him like a violent wave. His legs gave out. His eyes lit up with a mix of hope and fear. His heart pounded in his chest.
He raised his head.
— I must understand what I'm doing here… and find Sandra.
He took a step back, inhaled deeply.
— For now… I am Claus Bloodfall.