There has always been a fire inside you, a dangerous fury, just waiting to be unleashed upon the world in a storm of violence. The rage gave you strength and power. It helped you defeat your enemies and forge your legend … but there was a cost to your anger. Those around you quickly learned not to try your temper, but over the years it was inevitable that something would set you off from time to time. When it was unleashed, your wrath was terrifying to behold … but it also led you to do things you’d later regret. People suffered. People died. Some deserved it, but many did not. Given what you’ve done—what your anger made you do—you’ve known for a long time where you were going to end up when you died.
Punishment. The color of your sleep is
red: blood, fire, burning rage. You don’t dream—
not in the normal sense. When you close your
eyes, all you see is red. You wake bathed in sweat,
with your heart pounding, but you can’t remember
any details beyond that single color. Red.