His second chance at a happy life

The last memory I have as a human is of a searing, unbearable pain as a sharp, blood-soaked blade pierced my chest, slicing through my drenched armor. I was covered head to toe in the blood of others. Much of it is a blur, but the pain still haunts me. I know it took endless, torturous hours before the dark cloud of death finally claimed me. When I awoke, my body refused to obey me no matter how hard I tried. Even opening my eyes felt like an impossible task, and the frustration was maddening. After hours of struggle, I could barely see and hear, everything muted and washed in a cold blue haze that barely cut through the surrounding blackness. In the distance, a whining sound reached me—its source unclear. I couldn’t identify the creature making it, but it grated on my already frayed nerves. My ears still felt clogged, as if my whole body were submerged in a thick, muddy bog. I took a few breaths to steady myself on solid ground, but my muscles still burned like they’d been seared by a boiling wave that had dragged me under. Just as the crushing pressure peaked, a heavy yet strangely weightless sensation washed over me. I breathed deeply, relief seeping in as the fog muffling a strange cry began to lift. In the darkness ahead, a shape emerged, the sound growing louder even though the tiny speck barely seemed to move closer. Regaining some control, I sat up and scanned my surroundings. To my right, the source of the screech staggered toward me—a small green goblin I’d only heard of in stories, dragging a weapon far too large for its frame. It swayed, struggling to lift the long blade overhead. I eyed the odd metal, then stepped aside as it swung awkwardly. The blade crashed into the ground with a heavy thud. Locking eyes with its bony gaze, I stood, testing my balance. As it flinched, I lunged, driving my elongated claws into its chest. My hand wrapped around its pounding heart and squeezed; it coughed blood before the screech dissolved into a grotesque slosh and the final thud of its body hitting the dirt. Looking down, I realized my nails were now longer and sharper. The still-beating heart rested in my palm. I watched as its rhythm slowed but never stopped. I tossed it to the ground, curiosity creeping in as it continued pulsing there. Bending down, I wiped my scaled hands on the back of its shirt, then stood sluggishly, nearly stumbling as a hot breeze struck the parts of me not covered in scales. The sting took me by surprise, sharp and sudden, as if the wind itself had slapped me. The pain struck hard and fast. As I opened my eyes, a faint smirk tugged at my lips, an odd amusement rising within me. My large, bare frame was as fit as when I’d been human, but now it was bigger, etched with obsidian scales. Even my manhood felt heavier, shifting with my movements. Scanning around, I spotted a tiny figure inching closer. Curiosity stirred for the first time. A bag lay a few feet away—far too large for the little creature. Drag marks showed it had been hauling the stolen bag. I took my first real step, and a sharp, nail-like pain shot through me, radiating from my head and shoulder blades. Doubling over, I roared in agony as two massive wings ripped through my skin and horns twisted up from my skull. When the torment eased, I straightened, testing my new form. My sable wings dripped dark, muted red blood, the feathers slick to the touch. My horns curved just above my hairline before spiraling upward. Reaching the bag, I pulled out a pair of fabric pants and covered myself. Once I was covered and had packed all the things I wanted to keep in my bag, I looked around. I followed the drag marks and noticed a faint change in the lighting ahead—yellow with hints of red. Finally having a destination, I quickened my pace, my wings still aching and unfamiliar to me. I walked toward the strange glow. Upon reaching the town, I traded the items I’d collected along the way and headed to a pub down the street from the trader’s hut. The trader had told me it was the best place to learn about the hell I’d woken up in. The locals—hellions—mostly called this place the Underworld, which seemed to be the preferred name for the realm. I wandered aimlessly, half driven by curiosity and half by the warm breeze that seemed to guide me somewhere. I had no idea where I was going, though sometimes the destinations were far from pleasant. The creatures I encountered varied—some were clever and crafty, trying to trick me into giving up my possessions, while the dimwitted ones simply attacked outright. Either way, the result was the same: they ended up motionless at my feet. It felt like being back on the battlefield, always needing to watch my back. After a few decades, I was surprised to meet my one and only true friend. By then, I had earned a reputation as the crazy, bloodthirsty demon who roamed the Underworld, ignoring the loosely enforced borders set by certain creatures. The demented demon had heard so much about me that he sought me out, and once he found me, he became an annoying parasite I couldn’t get rid of. After centuries of uneasy peace, a war broke out among all creatures, and my demon companion felt compelled to join the battle alongside his kin. I couldn’t tell if it was chaos he craved or the calm he claimed would follow, but by the end, I knew it was both—he loved to stir and then end the storm so he could rest in peace once satisfied. I didn’t stay to see the war’s conclusion; something else was pulling me away. A voice on the wind haunted me during battles and war councils, distracting me from my duties. It consumed my thoughts until I completed my final mission and told my friend I had to go. The moment I took flight, I knew exactly where to head, and I didn’t stop until I saw a red hobbit hole wrapped in the underworld’s most dangerous plants. If the wind hadn’t abruptly stilled, I might have missed the door entirely. The building was nearly swallowed by green and red vegetation. I hovered at a distance, carefully watching the hell roses remain still. If they’d been wild, they’d have attacked already, so their stillness meant they had a master. I circled to the back of the house, but a rose suddenly fired a thorn at me, and soon the others followed. One struck me in the gut, and I blacked out before I hit the ground. I woke up in pain and winced as I sat up, surprised to find myself inside the vine-covered home I had been looking at. The place was a cramped mess, cluttered with human trinkets, shelves overflowing with books, scrolls, and loose papers piled in every corner and on almost every table. As I looked around, my eyes landed on an old creature that froze me with real fear. Its saggy grey skin hung loosely from its bones, and its hunched form was bent over a book. The beast seemed almost parallel to the floor, drowning in a brown robe. Without a sound, it moved to another table covered in maps, its pockets stuffed to the brim with scrolls, papers, and who knows what else. It sensed my movement but didn’t acknowledge my presence until I swung my legs over the edge of the table I’d been lying on. I stared into its glazed eyes, realizing it was a blind old monster, frail and slow in its late years, as it made its way toward me. "Weak," I finally decided. He froze mid-step. "I am stronger than you think, boy." The deep, gravelly voice sounded as though it hadn’t been used in ages, yet its steady tone carried a power that sent a shiver down my spine. I tried to speak, but my mouth was so dry that words wouldn’t come. "Drink!" he barked, thrusting a mug of purple liquid at me. I had no idea where it came from, but I grabbed it and downed it in one gulp. The bitter taste hit hard, sending me into a fit of coughs. "What do you call yourself?" I asked when I finally recovered from the near-death experience. "N'eteri." He walked back to the table he’d been working at. "My name is..." I started, but he cut me off with a raised hand. The sight and sound made me gag inside—the skin stretched tight over bone, and the sloshing noise was something I’d never forget. "No need, I know who you are. What are you doing here?" I shrugged, sliding off the table and moving to the nearest surface on my left. It was covered in maps, their brown paper stained with black and grey lines. Strange scripts and unfamiliar languages filled the pages. "Are these maps of the Underworld?" I asked, answering his question with one of my own. "Yes. So, is that why you’re here? Snooping around my house?" "No, I was following the wind," I mutter, glancing at the other maps on the wall. The monstrous figure let out a gurgling sound, almost like laughter, rumbling from his chest and shaking the house. "What wind?" he asked at last, amusement fading. I looked at him — there was something of an old man in his features, his brow raised, eyes locked on me. I sighed, dreading this conversation; it always ended the same way, with disbelief and me ripping tongues from skulls for calling me a liar. "You know, the breeze, the movement in the air." I’d said it thousands of times, though I hardly believed it myself — the sensation and the voice I’d felt were warm, striking my heart before vanishing, leaving me cold and angry. Still, I waved my hand in a flowing motion, as if to command the wind itself. "The underworld has no wind," the creature said in a dark, matter-of-fact tone. "I was following a warm breeze—that’s the only reason I ended up here. It stopped abruptly as I passed by, and I had no choice but to stop too," I replied flatly, locking eyes with the beast. The massive figure straightened to its full height, towering over ten feet tall. Loose skin pulled taut over its skeletal frame as it rose. "Liar!" it screeched. I exhaled sharply, heat flaring inside me. If it thought its size could intimidate me, it was dead wrong. I wasn’t about to cower just because it loomed over me. If anything, it only fueled my anger, and I stood taller. I knew I was nothing compared to this monster, but I refused to back down. "Since the first day I woke up in this sh*t hole, I’ve been following this warm gust of air. It’s led me to all kinds of places and pulled me out of things I shouldn’t be part of. It was the wind with a voice that brought me to your red door in the middle of nowhere, east of all living, beating hearts, and I won’t be called a liar because I know I’m telling the truth!" By the time I finished shouting, my wings had lifted me up into its face. The slight sting from the thorn hurt, but I ignored it. "Are you sure about that, boy?" he asked, his voice calmer now. I nodded, meeting his milky white gaze. He sighed and sank back into his hunched posture. The sound and sight of his skin slipping from his bones would haunt me forever. Without missing a step, he turned and shuffled toward the farthest shelf, rifling through the books until he found what he wanted. Then he shoved an old, dusty book into my chest. "Study and come back when you’ve learned a thing or two," he grumbled. I started to ask what this was about, wondering if he knew anything about the voices, but before I could speak, a cloud of blue dust hit me in the face. I stumbled backward into a chair, watching his mouth move, though the words are still a mystery to me. Paralyzed, I found myself tossed onto his front lawn. I lay face down until I felt my wings twitch back to life. Not waiting for the rest of my body to catch up, I took off, desperate to get away from that crazy banshee. Midflight, the rest of my body finally responded, nearly sending me tumbling from the sky. Eventually, I found a quiet place to rest and began reading the book. When I discovered the way back to Earth, I didn’t hesitate—I took off.