He had dwelt in non-existance for what seemed like an eternity of time - although one could claim the passage of such was, at best...difficult to comprehend.
Finally when the darkness had faded from his vision, he had found himself in a most unusual place. Perhaps he had washed up on the shores of the Amasynian Sea - he most certainly felt as if he had. The cold sea water clung to his tattered clothes and soaked him straight to the bone. He was bruised, cut and blue around the edges from the chill.
Crawling weakly up the snow-covered sands of the beach, he sought frantically for something - anything - to dispell the chill that he felt straight down to his soul.
But that....was impossible.
Frightening realization began to dawn on him, as he glanced down to his hands. Stained red with fresh, warm blood - human blood. The cuts weren't healing. He could feel a great ache in his muscles.
He could feel his Soul.
And it burned him.