He hadn't been able to sleep well last night. It had been another late night of reading, and of smoking and drinking. Well within his usual limits, but something about last night hadn't felt right. It was like someone had blown a cold breeze from within him, a general sense of unease settling into his bones. He'd had a premonition that something wasn't quite alright, but like the times before this, he would wait for the other shoe to drop and clue him into what was going on.
When he woke, he realized that he wasn't in his bed. Not alarmed yet, as he had been prone to sleepwalking from time to time, he opened his eyes to find himself seated at a table across from a shadowed figure. Before a sound could escape him, the shadowed figure spoke. "Ah… John, finally awake I see, you sure took your sweet time." John startled, surprised the figure knew his name. He noticed that the figure's voice was raspy as if he hadn't had a drink of water in quite a while. Wondering how he had gotten here and going to voice just that, he was surprised to find that the figure spoke as soon as the thought crossed his mind.
"You died John, an ignoble death at that. A sight indeed, for someone with such vast aspirations once upon a time to pass with not a bang, but a whimper. A quiet passing, perhaps befitting of the disappointment you have become. You once operated under the belief that you would sleep when you were dead, and not a moment before that could be wasted, for in your own words 'a moment passed is a moment never regained'. I will not afford you even that luxury, however. On this table as you can see there are many potions, choose as many you would like and when you are done you will be sent on your way once again into the world. I would like to see what would become of you when placed in a crucible where death would be a mercy."
With his piece said the figure vanished as if he were a whisper on the wind. His words, however, remained. John knew he had turned out to be a disappointment, to himself, and especially to the people who'd had faith that he would be successful. This chance, however undeserved it may have, been would be taken wholeheartedly. Through these potions, these 'essences', he would forge something of himself in whatever world he was thrown into. He wouldn't abuse his benefactor's generosity in granting him these advantages, he would use them and forge himself into someone worthy of them
As he looked out into the sea of essences on the table, he got an impression of what each of them would do to him. 'Three' he thought to himself, he would only take three essences for himself. He would use three potions and with them, he would become great. The three he chose would be more than adequate for his needs, allowing him to rise above any challenges he would face. His selection was the Essence of the Archmage, Essence of Endless Lives, and the Essence of the Blank. His selection picked out from the many choices on the table he drank them, one after the other.
Soon after draining the last potion down, he sat there waiting on something to happen. He soon flushed, realizing that he had foolishly thought that his internal determination to change himself would be a signal for the being that had brought him here. He started to feel drowsy, which was strange as he had just woken up from death. He drifted away, still seated at the table, no clue where he would end up next.