My Snippets, Incomplete Ideas, or Prototype Works

Edward Stark POV

You know....I was kind of expecting to end up in the afterlife or hell end up reincarnating again I thought clenching the side arm of the frozen throne of Camelot I was sitting on....the same throne where Artoria once sat upon I thought with slight anguish.

My soul was forcibly taken and recorded into the Throne of Heros after my self sacrificing attack against Morgan.

When I first woke up here it was just an empty black void but then I learned with a simple thought I could reshape the area around me however I wished since it was technically my space, so I chose to rebuild the main throne room of Camelot but in my own image.

Everywhere there was snow and the throne chair I was sitting on was made of ice. I am not sure how much time has passed since I died but I hate it here.

There is no wind, no warmth, no voices only the sound of my own breath and the weight of my own thoughts. It is a prison of my own making sculpted from both my memories and longing.

I ran my armored fingers along the armrest of my ice-bound throne feeling nothing. I wonder if I were to drive my blade into my own chest here would I feel that either? Would I bleed again or would I simply shatter and reform like the rest of this illusion?

The answer doesn't matter.

I close my eyes and every time I see myself back against Morgan and her armies...that damn jealous bitch! I cursed if she hadn't been so crazy and obsessed with wanting Camelot then my second life could have been longer.

I could have retired.

I could have maybe gotten her to forget being the 'perfect' embodiment of a King.

Maybe we could have had a family of my own.

So many could have's but those were now just faded dreams I thought with a mournful smile beneath my helmet.

Suddenly I felt a massive tug on my being and then a voice chanting "Let silver and steel be the essence.Let stone and the archduke of contracts be the foundation Let (colour of the catalyst) the colour I pay tribute to. Let rise a wall against the wind that shall fallLet the four cardinal gates close.Let the three-forked road from the crown reaching unto the Kingdom rotate.

I hereby declare. Your body shall serve under me. My fate shall be your sword.Submit to the beckoning of the Holy Grail If you will submit to this will and this reason...Then answer!

An oath shall be sworn here! I shall attain all virtues of all of Heaven I shall have dominion over all evils of all of Hell!

From the Seventh Heaven, attended to by three greet words of power,Come forth from the ring of restraints,Protector of the Holy Balance!"

I felt my soul being pulled from the throne and along with unknown knowledge about the Holy Grail Wars, Heroic Spirts, Ruler Servants, Participants of the Black Faction, Participants of the Red Faction, and lastly the Holy Grail would grant a wish to whoever won.

This....!

I've found what I need to escape from this damn place.

The world around me fractured like glass, the throne room, the ice, the snow it all shattered into countless shards dissolving into the void as the summoning dragged me forward. My very existence twisted, compressed, and reformed as I was wrenched through the fabric of space and time.

And then light.

Blinding, burning light.

The chill of my throne was gone replaced by a warmth I had not felt in what seemed like an eternity. My boots touched solid ground and the sensation alone nearly made me shudder.