The First Day of the Rest of My Life. (Canon)

It was several hours before I came back to myself. I felt groggy and inarticulate, like my senses had been dulled and numbed. I opened my eyes. Above me was a strange work of metal and glass. Circular in shape, it held smaller orbs within the larger whole.

It took me a moment to recognize it for what it was. It was the operating light that had blinded me before. The room was eerily quiet, save for the sound of bubbling liquids and my own breathing. After a moment's struggle I raised my head.

I was in a lab of some sort. Test tubes, beakers, various instruments of a doctor's trade. My hand raised to my face and I rubbed my eyes. Looking back, it was more of a reaction than conscious movement. The sudden realization hit me that I was no longer restrained.

Sitting up was hard, but I managed. "Welcome back," came the same old voice as before, but it was much more calm. I twisted quickly to look behind me. An old man, stooped over and frail, met my eyes behind thick rimmed glasses, balancing delicately on the tip of his nose.

"Forgive me," he said, "I believe we may have started on the wrong foot. I can be like a child sometimes when it comes to my work." He hobbled closer to me, relying mostly on a cane. His thin white hair, which matched the color of his lab coat was combed back.

"What work?" I asked slowly, the memories of my awakening returning. "What has happened to me?" The old man stopped next to me, fist and thumb raised to mouth, a thoughtful expression.

"What has happened to you, my dear boy," he said after a moment of thought, "is the mixture of science and magic." He saw my confused expression, the small glint of frustration and anger growing in my face.

"Let me explain," he continued. "I believe you are the construct of an ancient magical sword made flesh. The clashing between two entities who melded together to form a single cohesive whole."

"What? That doesn't make any sense." I blurted out. "I may not remember who I am, but I know that swords can't think." The old man nodded slowly, expecting the response.

"I understand you reticence," he said calmly, "but it is the only viable explanation for your existence. Now I do not think --"

"What do you mean, explanation for my existence?" His gray eyes met my own and he blinked. It seemed he didn't expect that response.

"Before today... you did not exist." The thought hit me in the gut, and I suddenly felt very sick.

"That... that can't be possible." I defended. "I may not remember who I am, but I remember things about this world. Not everything, but there are still details there. How would that be possible if I didn't exist before today?" The man shook his head and waved his hand.

"No no no, you misunderstand my meaning," he explained. "You are a new consciousness, but your body has not always been your own. Yesterday, you were a man named Serren, an archaeologist and a good friend. What you are remembering must be the residual imprint he left behind in your mind."

"But how? I still don't understand..." The old man walked over to his chair and sat. He leaned his cane against his desk sat forward, fingers steepled in front of him.

"A week ago, Serren came to me with an outlandish idea, as he often had before." The old man pulled back a cloth from his desk and retrieved a sword, presenting it to me. "He had found an ancient sword -- this sword -- which had a rather interesting legend bound to it. During the Rune Wars it slayed a formidable 'shadow dragon,' which I believe was tied to runes of darkness.

Upon dealing the lethal blow, the sword, which had magic of its own, absorbed the dragon's essence, and adopted its characteristics. Serren believed there was a way to extract this essence, and wanted to harness that power for himself. I believed he was a little mad, but after tireless hours of research, I was able to devise a way to reach the desired results." The old man paused. "Never in my wildest dreams did I imagine accomplishing this..."

It took a moment for everything to sink in.

"And you're saying... I'm the result?" The old man nodded, a small smile on his face.

"Precisely. I believe that through introducing the dragon's essence to Serren's body -- your body -- that it created a struggle within the psyche. Both dominant forces vied for control, and through their unrelenting wills, they ended up destroying each other."

"But if they destroyed each other, wouldn't I be dead?" The old man took a moment to think.

"It is possible that the aftermath of their battle left them both weakened, and unable to survive alone. So, through necessity, they formed a sort of symbiosis, creating you. Although I doubt they would have guessed that doing so would still lead to their own destruction." A sickening thought struck me.

"How do you know?" I asked. The old man gave me a confused look. "How do you know they're gone? What if they're still in here somewhere?" The old man sighed.

"My dear boy," he said, "I don't. This is merely guesswork. A precedent for this situation doesn't exist -- at least, not to my knowledge." I noticeably slumped.

"How comforting," I said dryly. The old man laughed, which sounded more like a wheeze.

"Yes, indeed."