Death comes with an even greater cost—something like losing one's very existence. Whether it's their name, identity, or everything they ever held dear while alive.
At first, it didn't seem like much. Naturally, after death, one forgets their own self, so there's no reason to know one's name or care about that lost being. But that wasn't the case for those trapped between life and death.
For the few considered undead—those stuck in between, losing their identity, wandering like beasts, confused and anxious with nothing left—their sole purpose became finding what they had lost: their sense of self.
Life isn't fair, nor is death. And for them, the craving to reclaim an identity burned deeper than pain. But it didn't come cheap.
The price was steep—requiring the sacrifice of another's life force. Our ability demanded a portion of life from the living, and from the dead, a large amount of death energy—something a living soul could never naturally produce.
