I awoke as an adventurer of the wastes, in a frigid arctic landscape. Mounds of rolling icy hills lay in all directions as far as one could see. Clinging to my furs and blocking the wind’s bitter onslaught, I trudged forward until I found a hole in the ground. Dark waters lay in front of me, and I knelt before the hole ready to receive. A mother in seal furs emerged forth holding a baby and presented it to me. Together, my left arm holding the newborn and right hand entangled with her left, we jumped into the depths.
As we held our breathes, a supernatural vortex drew us under until a massive cave appeared with breathable air that beheld a dark kingdom. I was hailed as the son of father slayers: a bitter accolade with an heir of future strength. The father and king of this realm presented me a sword to take back with me above. It shone a mystical blue and was the realm's sacred symbol of the old order which long ago established the kingdom under the icy black waters.
“Take this and cut from the darkness new life,” he said.
"The waters accept you; the fire in your heart is so large and so constrained that your every exhale spills out hints of that inferno. Snakes bow to you and accept you as an eagle ready to grant them flight.”
I swam to the surface and fell back asleep.