Mageripper's, Memories of a Previous death

There, I was thrown into a pit, the walls alive with the skittering of a thousand nightmares. The Mageripper swarm, creatures of vile origin, bred for a single purpose—to consume the essence of spellcasters like carrion birds feast on the fallen. The air was thick with their hissing, a cacophony of hunger for the arcane.
 
The wizard watched, his eyes alight with a cruel satisfaction, as the swarm approached. I could feel their gnawing, not just upon my flesh but upon my very soul, tearing at the energies that had once coursed through me with impunity. Their myriad mouths were a prison of teeth, rending and ripping, as a farmer reaps his harvest.
 
I cried out, not in pain, for their venom numbed my senses, but in despair. For in those moments, I envisioned my end—not as a hero fallen but as fodder for the twisted offspring of malice. The wizard's laughter echoed, a sound I feared would be the final note in the symphony of my life.
 
But fate, it seems, holds me in its thrall for purposes yet unknown. As the darkness claimed me, I was once again torn from the precipice of the eternal void, my body remade, my memories intact—a curse, not a blessing of divine design...