He awoke to the sound of bells.
Gel's eyes shot open, the intrusive white light blinding him. He slowly rose to his feet, blinking as he waited for his eyes to adjust to the white light. And yet, the white did not go away. The bright white was soon replaced by a dull, hazy white. It was at this point that Gel realized he was in the heart of a snow storm. It looked just like his sanctum, and yet, it was different. Gel shuffled forward, his cloak billowing in the wind and his feet leaving light footprints which were quickly filled with more snow. There was only snow. Snow covered the ground as far as the eye could see. Squinting, Gel could make out white birch trees, but these too were mostly covered in snow, preventing them from being clearly spotted. However, the snow and wind were dark, not bright. When he was in his sanctum, the sun shone down on him, causing every flake of snow to shine with a radiant, gem-like beauty. The snow that surrounded him was a dark white, almost a light gray. This alone told Gel that he was not in his sanctum, but was, in fact, indoors.
"The Dark Lord?" He gasped, his voice hoarse from an indefinite period of silence.
There was only one other place in this world that looked very much like Gel's sanctum, and yet was also not Gel's sanctum. That was, of course, the eleventh floor of Casondora, the Dark Lord's tower. For some reason, both the tower and Gel had risen again, and he intended to find out why.
"The others." He muttered.
Gel knew that, if he had been resurrected, the other guardians must have been as well. In order to obtain answers, he had to speak with them first.