To all observers, not that there were any, he appeared dead. But, that was how it was supposed to be.
Lanceus drifted loftily above the rolling hills of Kencii.

A woman, a more substantial form of the steam woman that molested him earlier, drifted amongst the clouds beside him.

“So, what are you looking for today, Lancey-boy?”
“The fate of King Jakeus.” Lanceus responded.
“Ooo, you’re not going to like it, prophet-man,” she cautioned, “why don’t you just stay and be with me a while?”
“Just take me there, Shenae.”
“Yes, sir, prophet, sir!” the woman faked a salute and Lanceus blacked out.

He awoke in a body, hardly five years older than his own, but he knew it wasn’t his. The body was scarred, had more muscles, and was all-around bigger in some areas.

And, what was this? A woman was laying on him. She certainly wasn’t his either…