Written in ChoiceScript and currently boasting ~532,500 words, it's primarily a fantasy story—both modern and medieval, with chapters taking place in both eras—with just a dash of mystery thrown in there so I can make it look like this whole thing was really well thought out.
Once upon a time, you were a legend—a warrior of unparalleled skill, who rose from nothing but wielded the power to change everything. To some you were a savior, a shining beacon of hope; to others, a cancer, too stubborn to stamp out. With an army of followers, you waged a decade-long war against the kingdom that slaughtered your family and razed your village to the ground—until finally the day came that you faced the greatest battle of your life, the battle that would tip the scales in your favor, and lead you and your troops down the path to victory.
Then you died.
Betrayed by your closest ally, the one man that stood by you through thick and thin, you were cut down, your soul rent from your body and cast into the world, invisible and unheard. Then your standing army fell, helpless without your command. Without your army, your crusade fell to pieces, just another footnote in history. Seasons changed and ages passed, countries rose and fell, and the world kept turning. You watched it all go by, a silent phantom in an ever-changing world. And there was nothing you could do about it.
That was 800 years ago.
Now, you are here, an age-lost spirit drifting through a world that moved on without you. You currently reside in the vast city of Stillport—if residing is something that you can be said to do, when you don't sleep or eat. You have no idea how you've maintained your sanity all these centuries, though you suspect that the gradual decay of your slowly fading memories has something to do with it. Some days, you remember your ages-past crusade like it was yesterday; other days, you barely remember your own name. Your daily routine is a whole lot of nothing—people-watching, mostly, sometimes reading a book over someone's shoulder, or slipping into houses to watch television. Mostly, you wait for the day you inevitably fade away forever, forgotten by the world—with dread or with longing, you're not yet sure which.
Until today. A day like any other, until the explosion. That strange sensation you feel, dragging you toward it, familiar, like a magnet. The blast of dark energy that slays everyone in its vicinity, and shreds your feeble soul to fibers—just like the blast that killed you so long ago. And, of course, the mage—the first one you've encountered in centuries, and now, your only link to the rest of the world.
To save your (un)life, you're forced to bind your soul to her, tethering your existence to the whims of a young, impulsive sorceress who seems determined to risk her own life, and now, by extension, yours. Still, she's the best shot you've got at getting what you want, whatever that may be—conjuring a new body for yourself, learning magic, discovering time travel, or maybe, just maybe, saving the world.
Until then, you're soulbound.
