Cascadia

You wake up in a pool of ambrosia, your memories faded and broken.

You have no recollection of who you are, much less how you got here.

It makes your head throb.

. . .

Gazing down at your pale indistinct form, you instinctually know you are not what you used to be in your previous life, despite being unable to remember it.

You can feel the very fiber of your being fluctuating with potential, yearning to reform itself.

. . .

As you step out of the pool you spot a dark spire looming on the horizon, and curiosity gets the better of you.