A being without a burden, no recollection of any past events. Regret and fantasies of better outcomes no longer exist in his psyche. As he lay on the pale floor, he knows now only what fate begives him. Awoken into an endless white hell, a form of pure purgatory. As far as the eye could see there was nothing, except two things, himself and an unending expanse of white.
He sighed, how long had he been laying here? An hour, a day, maybe longer? All that mattered was that he keeps a level head. What he desperately wanted was somewhere where he could begin to make sense of it all. Where to start? "Hello?" His voice didn't echo as the space surrounding him was unlimited, an expanse of territory far too void to be considered anything less than unsettling. As he finally pushed himself off the ground into a standing position, he could feel his right leg crack and buckle under his body weight. As he looked to the ground to sit down again, a new metal crutch paired with a bulky comfort rest made of bundled felt lay casually on the ground near him. Quickly scrambling, desperate to relieve the pain, he grabbed the crutch and propped himself against it while examining his leg. Unable to see the source of the pain and with the help of his new crutch, he realized he could now explore the area surrounding him. The glossy surface of the floor beneath him revealed his true state. A distinctive white beard flowed down his face to the middle of his chest. Long strands of silk white hair encased his body, and his eyes peering from inside his sunken face embodied a lifetime of hard luck. Strained, confused, and unsatisfied at the person who stared back. He was a frail man, who now understanding his new limitations began to wander aimlessly out into his new world. A world that could hold the means for his salvation or a world without mercy awaits him.
To garner the willpower to stand it took all the strength in him, physically and mentally. "Hello?" he called and again his voice fell against the emptiness before him. Slowly he lurched forward, to begin his journey that he hopes to lead somewhere.
With the occasional call to see if anyone- or anything- was present, he trudged onward for what seemed like hours, days even. The more silence he received, the more doubt he collected. As he paced forward an overcoming weakness on his mind and body began to grow. The only strength left came from what he could only assume was his soul. Guiding him, leading him to whatever it had sensed its owner desired. Possibly a future? Knowledge of a past that could be his?
Unable to stand any longer he toppled onto the cold white floor. His body was now covered in a thin layer of sweat from the stress and strain of moving a failing body. "I wish I had an idea of what the hell I'm doing here!" He groaned as the pain grew. " Please! Give me rest!" He yelled.
"Oh my... it appears I may not have properly taken care of you as I should've!" A mysterious seductive voice resonated somewhere nearby.
The idea that he had gone into shock and that he had imagined the sound was very possible. Refusing to look towards the voice, eyes clenched shut as he tried to relax, he mumbled weakly, "please." There was a pause and not a single sound was uttered. "Help me please!" he begged.
The second voice sighed, "tsk tsk, I guess we both are at fault. Your punishment may have been a bit too... harsh." Though the voice was cheerful and provided much-needed relief-a deceptively friendly tone was subtly qued. "We had to take matters into our own hands instead of letting the other twelve realize what you did and follow suit." Quickly following the end of that sentence, he opened his eyes in disbelief as he started to float a few inches off the ground.
"What magic is this!?" He cried out in amazement.
"Calm down, you know better than anyone. Don't act stupid with me old man. We have work to do. Don't we Icarus?"
"Who... Who are you?" he whimpered, his eyes finally scanning over the source of the voice. A tall woman with long red hair stood standing a few feet away. As Icarus opened his eyes, her image came into focus. She had two eyes that shined brighter than any gold he had ever seen. Her face was perfect, almost as if she was made of silk, she oozed sexiness. Even though he was now hovering off the ground he was in no comparison to her hight. Standing tall like a statue she stood five or six inches over the old man. Her frame was thin and fragile and made her look much older than what her face revealed. Power surrounded her as a wide grin crept onto her thin lips.
"You are to call me Adrestia and to be very clear, this relationship works one way and one way only. My way. You will listen to what I say and do what I ask because the second you don't I will snap your other leg in half and leave you to die alone. Do you understand, old man?" She stopped guiding him and looked over her shoulder awaiting his response.
In a haze of confusion, the only thing he could utter was a meek, "yes...."
"Perfect. The first thing that has to be done is fix up the place, you really let yourself go. What happened to the excitement? The creativity you once had!? Icarus, Icarus you really have forgotten who you are and what creations you are capable of building!" She talked with a tone of grandiosity.
"I can't remember who I am, lady. Until you showed up and started calling me Icarus I had no idea what the fuck my name was! Hell, I don't even know how you know me, woman!" He snapped, though he was weak and a feeble old soul. He had his pride if a woman of such power spoke as though he was once a great man: he would die knowing that he held enough power to feel whole, even if he did not recall being that person. His former self must've been very interesting.
Adrestia smirked at the outburst. "The rooms seem to be working perfectly. You already have more tenacity than your younger self" she stated, a look of amusement evident in her eyes. Icarus studied her eyes carefully, the way she carried herself sent fear spiraling down his spine. The look wasn't that of amusement through a joke, but that of an owner and their dog. "You have a lot of work to do." She stated, and with a wave of her hand brought color to the world.
Immediately he felt the urge to hurl. His stomach twisting as the air he took in felt toxic, and when he opened his mouth to speak, he only tasted the foulest of thick chemical scents. With his impaired vision, he had discovered he was in a cave, with damp stones, the cave floor was black with a tint of what he assumed was red with blood. Various instruments and tools scattered around the small space, with an old lump of burlap sitting in the corner. Slowly tears began to fall onto his cheeks, his eyes bloodshot from the constant stress.
"Now, the tools are there, and your first order is to get used to this. The physical pain is over, now it's time for penance." And in a blinding flash, she vanished. Icarus fell on the damp cave floor and lay on the cold stone. What was he supposed to do? What had he gained other than his own name? What had even happened that he was being punished for something he had no memory of what he did? Time to get some answers...
At an unknown location in the whiterooms, two people hurried down a corridor in anticipation. At that exact moment, a thin man who wore a thick black coat closed a book as he looked at a stopwatch, seeing how much time had passed as it suddenly stopped on its own accord. A heavy sigh escaped his mouth.
"Why do you look so sad?" A beautiful woman who wore a crown made of gold and amber looked over her shoulder at him.
"Nothing my Queen, now, some interesting things are bound to happen. This is the Whiterooms after all. Let's see.." he said hurriedly, immediately looking to find something to do.
"Don't tell me if you don't want too. It's okay. Whatever happens in the future, we'll get through it like we always have...I believe we'll be okay." The queen reassured him and walked over to a large bay window and gazed out over the horizon.
"Of course my queen." He looked up at her and then went back to his studies.