The Divine Lament (Swan Queen)

Fall From Grace

Prologue

A flash of bright light appears on the vast field just outside of the forest. An orb, of such intense heat, that instantly turns the dry blades of grass into blackened ash. It radiates for a few minutes, growing in intensity before quickly snuffing itself out. As the smoke clears lying in the center is the body of a man. He is curled in a fetal position, his arms over his head, his legs tucked close to his chest.

A single conscious thought permeates the fog of his mind... Falling. Suddenly his eyes open as his chest expands with a deep cleansing breath that fills his lungs. Gradually he begins to stretch, slow and painful inches, as the newly awakened nerves in his extremities fire against the strain of being dormant for so long. He lays his hands flat against the soft earth beneath him and tries to lift himself from his prone position. But as soon as he is up, his legs give out from underneath him. The muscles in his legs, he realizes, are still in a state of atrophy and will require extra effort. Steeling himself, he once again tries to stand, but this time much slower, and concentrates on gaining his balance. He remains still, allowing his body to catch up with his mind. To his great dismay, he discovers his motor skills are that of a child. But he is confident that they will return in time.

He takes a moment to look at his surroundings. He finds that he does not recognize the place let alone the time. As a traveler of worlds, he is accustomed to the feeling of displacement. Yet he knows he must gather his wits quickly to prepare himself should he have come to be in another hostile land. During his last trip, he had come close to losing his life when underestimating the local natives, based solely on their size. That was a mistake he vowed never to make again.

Discovering that he is in no immediate danger, he takes a moment to inspect his clothing. His trousers are made of a strong, dark material, similar to a woolen tunic but thicker. His shirt resembles the fabric of cotton, black dyed and tailored to fit his musculature with the sleeves cut just below his biceps. On his feet he finds dark, leather boots laced in front. Lying on the ground is a long, dark coat which he slips about him. His attire is simple but favorable to the local weather. His only concern is that he lacks any fashion of weapon, but overall, the situation is not so terrible after all.

Time to see what civilization I have come upon. The stranger thought, as he slowly made his way out of the woods.