There are towers, there in the dark under the yellow moons. Huge towers, where all your burdens are held, just waiting for you to be ready to face them.
When you wake up somewhere, after expecting to die, you expect either heaven or hell. I woke up in neither. I woke in a place with winged demons bearing down on me, a Rat King looking for a conversation, and a tower below me that fell into endless stygian depths.
The only way for me is down. Down into a past that is waiting to remind me of failure, of pain, of death.
Down to a place where I must face my burdens and control them.
Before they control me.