Voices. He remembered hearing voices at first long ago. His creator's voice was the most common one. He was not sure when the world came to him but at some point, he learned to expand his senses and saw the world for the first time.
It was a dreary place. Fires burned in various furnaces as chains or other tools clanked along the walls. The sound of metal hitting metal also drew his attention.
He saw his creator making a terrifying sword. It was black and seemed to thirst for death and destruction. Yet, the wrinkled brow of the creator looked disappointed.
"Failure. You are just a tool of death. There is no artistry in that." He felt odd at those words but then the creator shattered the blade. The scream of the nascent spirit seemed to scare the other items that had spirits in the room.
He, however, felt nothing. He knew that was wrong. He should be feeling something. Fear, confusion, maybe even enjoyment, but there was only calm. He looked at his body and found he was on a rack.
