Our thoughts in the darkest hours reveal our character the most. Like a drowning man, does he go silently or reach out a hand and hope someone grasps it?

~Arawn, God of the Dead

The Necropolis of the Forgotten was an apt name because it was an island in the middle of a realm called the Lake of Lost Memories. A hundred meters from the shore, about ten meters below the water’s surface, a man sat upon the sandy bottom.

Around him were blue wisps that looked like small electric eels, some of which came from within his own Mind. These were the memories left behind by the forgotten, the lost, and the unwanted. The wisps of memories that fled from Kafe were diminishing rapidly.

The frigid waters froze a layer of flesh from his body and broke away. A process that happened continuously as his memories were removed. Those drifting pieces of dark ice contained the contaminated flesh of his previous sins. It didn’t change his fate, karma, or luck, but it removed the Curse of the Damned.

It stripped away all references to his cultivation, but not his actions. Taking away all the time spent learning, absorbing, and comprehending his cultivation and the Truths left him with condensed memories filled with his evil deeds. The only relief was that it stripped away large parts of his worst crimes because those acts were necessary for his cultivation. Before long, even those kinds of thoughts were gone.

A sickening feeling wrenched at his gut upon feeling the memories of his life getting stripped away as if they had never happened. A sort of emptiness filled him that left him questioning the point of living—an infinite void that felt insurmountable. Kafe shook with loneliness and fear. Watching the things he’d done without knowing why he did them disgusted him. Not only was he disgusted with himself, but he was disgusted by the people he thought were friends and how they competed to see who could be more sadistic.

Watching a little girl he converted to the undead tearing apart her family, that was what he did. He was a monster not worth living. Women he took because he could, the people he enslaved, and… Nadia.

That empty pit in his stomach, he absorbed all the spiritual energy he could and tried to fill that void. Tried to give himself an excuse to live. But no matter how much he tried, he couldn’t forgive himself. But he wasn’t angry because he had no right to be.

Unbeknownst to Kafe, his body was going through significant changes. The point between his cock and tailbone exploded with power, forcing his back to arch and his fingers to seize into a claw-like appearance. He could not know what was happening to him, but if Crow or Song Lin were present, they’d be shocked. Kafe was in the middle of opening his Root Chakra and did so with no guidance.

While racked with pain, he didn’t even know that his stolen arm gave off an unnatural glow, and it exorcised the partial soul hidden within. However, because of its presence, that arm was unnaturally pure. As the spiritual energy of the waters refined it, words of an ancient language etched themselves into the bones. It was not even something Crow would recognize, but that strange effect stopped where the new arm met the old.

Old Man Snow’s eyes snapped open as this was happening, and he stared into the unfathomable depths. His new disciple was interesting, and this change didn’t escape the old man’s notice.

“Heh, those scriptures were right!” The old man practically danced with glee.

Finding a suitable candidate to become a Spiritualist could be a lifelong quest, but only because finding someone with the Curse of the Damned was extremely hard. Most died before they could be saved. The only way to find one of the damned was to find the curse’s mark, usually found on the neck.

Only if those that have the mark have the potential to be a Spiritualist. It had to do with the person being at the threshold between life and death. It opened up an inner sight that could view into the Spirit Realm.

There was another method, but it required an affinity toward the Spirit of the soul trinity: Mind, Body, and Spirit. Old Man Snow wasn’t sure which was more rare, but it was a difficult path either way.

Either way, those with the mark, like Kafe, were even more ill-fated than an Unfated. Both marked their victims, and few rarely survived the calamities that followed. That is unless that person came across a one in billion chance. It just so happened that this kid’s luck was ungodly.

“No… not ungodly,” the old man pondered. “Your fate experienced an unbinding, which means someone else’s luck saved you. Only by meeting me could you have survived your tragic end. If I find the catalyst that unbound you, maybe I could take him as a disciple too…”

Old Man Snow sighed and kept his vigil.

Two days Kafe spent in the waters before he regained consciousness which left the old man frowning. The boy couldn’t have experienced that much life that it would have taken that long to cleanse his Mind. Although, that burning spot of energy in Kafe’s lower abdomen was intriguing.

Kafe crawled his way up onto the shore and collapsed. He used his hands to cradle his head, trying to stop himself from going crazy. Now that the process finished, his mind was struggling to fill in the gaps of his missing memories, smooth things over, and correct mistakes. It was a coping mechanism to prevent Kafele from losing his sanity.

Those gaps were hard to wrap his head around. Knowing that every missing memory had to do with his cultivation didn’t help. In his mind, when he went into the waters, he figured he’d lose the boring times he spent cultivating. The remnants left… he wished those had gone too. What was done was done. His path as a Hex Vodun had ended.

Memories of dinners, playing as a kid, and the time Crow rescued him were all still there, but connecting it all together made him feel like he’d led a hollow life.

“She must hate me…” he sobbed as his mind drifted toward Nadia once more.

“Nadia was freed from your control the moment you gave up your cultivation,” Old Man Snow said softly. He knew the boy would suffer, but this was something he had to face. Only then would the knot in his heart release, and only then would he be able to achieve great heights.

“She… is she okay?”

“I wouldn’t know. Is she hurt? That is a given. Encountering you was a blessing and a curse. She really has a special… disposition. You’ve given her control over her condition, but you’ve…” Sigh. Old Man Snow expelled air from his nostrils, unsure how to comfort the boy. “If fate brings you two together again, you just have to submit to her. If you really care for her, you’ll have to work hard to prove it.”

“Thank you, master,” Kafe said. Climbing to his feet and kowtowing to his savior.

“Take this,” Snow handed over a vestige. “That is the beginning of your new cultivation and life. You need to reach the minor success before we can start on the summoning ritual.”

“Will this really allow me to escape this place?”

“Nope, but the ritual will. If you can gain a spirit bond, you’ll be able to summon it into your body and walk through that barrier.”

Kafe nodded, understanding what the old man planned. Only ghosts, souls, and spirits seemed to pass through that barrier, and by using this method, he could disguise himself as a spirit and leave.

“Come, we’ll be staying over there for the next few weeks,” Old Man snow said and pointed down the shore to the only place that looked like a house. Kafe was interested because he’d never seen that place in all his exploring. It looked like something out of legends, and the stonework and archways were immaculately carved. “That is the caretaker’s home. You could say that inside is the throne for the King of the Necropolis—that’s me.”

Kafe could only groan at the old man’s shameless boasting, but it helped ease the suicidal thoughts. The thought of dying seemed easier than facing what came next. But Crow’s face surfaced in his mind, and he knew he couldn’t move on from this world until he repaid that debt at the very least.