Silent mumbling could be heard around his head, they spoke in deep hush voices and in quick bursts. His eyes stayed shut, fearing that opening them would wake him to a bitter reality like waking from a dream of false utopia to real life. The voices seemed to pause every time he moved his eyes beneath his lids, like they were caught off guard by the corpse that suddenly came to life. To him, he might as well be dead, the enemy had already won, the last thing he remembered was a bright flash of light before being engulfed in this cold darkness. His chest began to pound on his ribs like a prisoner wanting out, it felt like he was flattening himself before he realized he needed to breath again. He tried to inhale, but he remained still like the corpse he was. His thoughts began to race, wondering what was going on and why he's alive yet cannot breathe. As he struggled, thrashing within his dead body, he could hear the fading muffles of worried voices began to quicken. He began to feel plates that were as cold as ice touch his breasts, a loud muffle was heard followed by the most painful jolt he could imagine. It wasn't hurting him like a broken bone or a punch, it was like all the muscles imaginable began to shrink while his bones stayed the same size, crushing him within before letting him go.

His mind, panicking and beginning to accept death, tried its best to get him breathing again, but to no avail. Suddenly, on the second jolt of crushing contractions, he could feel a powerful warmth course through his body, like his veins had been filled with fiery hot blood to warm and tingle his body. The voices began to clear from a muffled white noise to a mumble of indecipherable chatter, a small beeping noise was heard as well which began to give this corpse a sense of what was going on. At first, he thought he was captured by the enemies, but in reality, he was being saved by strangers that had somehow survived. He could feel his heart beginning to beat once more, like an old engine being fired up after a long winter of solitude.

As the hot blood of life coursed through his body, his limbs began to tingle like small knives were poking every inch of his body. He began to feel again, the sensation of an ice cold bench against his back only made it more probable that he was in a hospital. He could feel each individual hair on his head, and the tightness of his skin around his feet and hands.

As his mind cleared and his body restored itself to life, the voices were crystal clear, "Subject is showing steady sings, doctor."

"Good job," one voice spoke with authority, "he's alive and well."

Another smaller voice chimed in, "It was incredible how he survived that."

"It isn't that impossible," the first voice responded, "he was perfectly fine and was easy to save, what's incredible are the odds that everything happened so perfectly well... for us anyways. Can't say much for him, though."

After listening to the voices long enough, our hero opened his eyes and gasped, "What's going on," he managed to speak through his choking, "where am I?"

He looked around, but there was no light, everything was darker than when he had his eyes closed. The voices around him sounded as though they were circling him, "You were out for quite a while, we found you no more than thirty minutes ago and have been trying our best to revive you. Obviously it was a success, we have finally brought back someone from a true death."

"What do you mean 'true death'?"

"True death means that you have been dead and your blood has stopped circulating long enough for you to be considered impossible to revive. There are many cases where patients are briefly dead but this is not one of them. You have been dead for quite a while, kid."

He hated being called "kid", yet in these circumstances he wasn't going to let it bother him considering he was just brought back to life because of them. After finally managing to breathe, he spoke to the doctors, "So what are you going to do?"

"We're going to run some tests," the smaller female doctor spoke, "but don't worry, they're harmless. Just to test out your brain activity."

"Ok."

"First," the third doctor began, "tell us if you feel the following and describe it to us."

Suddenly, he felt a sharp pinch in his arm, a small tap on his knee, and a gentle hand run up his back. He described them in the order that they happened.

The doctor continued after a short pause, "We are going to test out your eyes now, please do your best to keep them open for this." A bright light exploded into the newly undead's face, making him wish he hadn't opened his eyes in the first place. After staring at the light for a few seconds, the doctor spoke to himself, "Eyes are perfectly functioning, limbs are working fine, communication, and auditory senses are intact as well.... Alright now we're going to test out your memory."

"Okay." He was ready for anything.

"Please," the female doctor asked, "tell us your name."

There was a long pause, he didn't speak, searching his mind from corner to corner as though he had lost something in an empty room. He stuttered, but never answered, he couldn't remember. He began to panic on the inside as he answered slowly, "I... I don't know."

It dawned on him that the only memory he had was him standing in a large circle, five others were with him as a large flash of light blinded them. The five of them stared into the centre where two small creatures sat, like they were worshiping gods that were about to smite them for their sins. Everything was fuzzy, but the last words he remembered were from the small creatures, "They have won," the first one spoke, "the enemies have won," the second continued in its other's place.

The doctors took a pause, like they were watching our hero try to replay the last memory before one of them spoke, "We uh... we have some bad news to tell you."

"What is it?"

"We will tell you that later," the female doctor interrupted, "but first we will give you a pseudo-name. You have no memories of your real name so this will be the one we give you until you either regain your memories or until you find a suitable name for yourself."

The three doctors remained in silence, hiding behind the darkness as they examined him, finally one of the doctors spoke, "You are the messiah."

"No," the second doctor interjected, "we will not call him that, he has not taught us anything and he does not fit the prophecy."

"How about Phoenix?" The leader of the doctors spoke.

It didn't take long for all three to agree to this pseudo-name. To our hero, it seemed to fit. He had been brought back from death, and was to rise again. It wouldn't be for a long time before he understood the true meaning behind his name and why he was mistaken for a "Messiah."

Author's Note

Yes, this is part of the story.
No, this wasn't a mistake.