Vera stared at the vines covering the crossed pillars. “Fuckin’ sheesh Snow, how’d you find mister Death’s tomb with all this mess lyin’ around? Can’t even tell that’s an entrance.”

  “I follow the sparkly fireflies,” she said. “They lead me here.”

  “Sounds like fate.”

  “Do not mention fate,” Death growled. “There is no such thing as fate, every prophet or seer that claims I am bound by such a feeble concept is a liar and I will rip their heads from their necks.”

  “Oh, he’s aggressive,” Vera said. “Does being so close to your tomb make you wanna cry, huh? Come and give your worshippers a big ol’ hug to calm your little temper tantrum.”

  “Do not touch me, fox, and yes, I am angry—this is where I was laid to rot for eternity by the scarred man and the succubus, I have every right to feel rage seeing it.”

  He entered the crossed pillars and descended the stairs into the deep tomb, exploring every corner and crack for any hidden words or markings that may reveal the past. When he arrived at his tomb, he was fruitless, all words on the surrounding sealed coffins were faded by time; he cracked them open to find bare skeletons with no clothes or notes, nothing hidden.

  “There’s got to be something,” Snow whimpered. “What do you want to find? Tell us, we’ll look too.”

  Death summoned his Choking Chain and decimated his own resting place, turning to rubble without showing an expression. “A man who is alive should not have a grave,” he said flatly. “There is more to this place, look at the walls, more ancient than I.”

  He tapped his sword along the stoney walls until one echoed back his strike—hollow on the other side. He smashed it open with his iron ball and descended a staircase with magical lanterns that lit blue as he walked down the thousands of individual steps.

  How deep does this thing go? What was so much more important than I was that it needed to be buried closer to Hell than the surface.

  “Slow down,” Snow wheezed. “Or carry me.”

  “It is not strenuous to walk down steps,” Death said.

  “I command you to carry me back up the stairs.”

  He stopped moving, turned, gave her a stern but accepting look, then resume his exploration.

  “Am I the only one getting a really bad feeling about this?” Vera whispered. “The magic stuff lighting our way… fuckin’ weird, like it’s expectin’ us.”

  At the bottom they reach a long hallway with a black and red carpet, statues of what looked like Death every few metres, all with his scythe, Souleis, all depicting him as a godly figure.

  “Is that supposed to be you?” Vera joked. “Look at the detail, they got everything right, the crafters of this must’ve sculpted this whilst looking at you!”

  “My ego is not inflated enough for me to order statues to be made in my honour, they would do it out of fear, not command.” I agree that it is like looking into a mossy mirror, they even got the shape of my hands down to my fingerprints… and of course, my luck, not one of these has my true name wrote on it… but my Souleis, look at how she fits so well with me—I remember her so well, the handle of black-steel, the blood-red edge of the finest weapon. A simple girl, but far superior, I promise I will find you.

  His fingers lingered on the stoney edge of his weapon.

  “You gonna kiss a fuckin’ statue of yourself?” Vera said.

  “We’ll find Souleis,” Snow promised. “I command you to never lose Souleis once you have her again.”

  She remembers the name of my weapon. I only mentioned it once, maybe twice, that command has no effect on me—I was always going to keep my sweet Souleis safe when I rescue her.

  Vera rattled the knob of a large door, surprisingly clean for the time it at remained closed and uncleaned. A magic tingle zapped the tips of her fingers when she teasingly rubbed the keyhole to make Snow laugh. “Ow, bastard door.” She punched knob. “The fuck was that, felt like a little crocodile nibbled on my finger.”

  Death examined the door and the electric feeling. “A magical current is on the other side of this door, something is either drawing or giving magical energy,” Death explained. “It’s not a strong one. If it were, the fox could’ve been electrocuted.”

  “Well, I’m never touching random doors ever again. Death can be the one to take all the risks.” She rubbed her hand, the pain of the zap still in her knuckles. “Electrocuted,” she scoffed. “What a shit death that would be, shocked to death by a damned doorknob.”

  She kicked the door and shook the handle viciously. “Guess this door ain’t openin’ even a little,” she said, wiping the sweet from her head. “It needs a magical key of sorts… guess we’ll have to go on a super long and exciting adventure to find out where—”

  Death kicked the door off its hinges. A magical squeal came as the door hit the mossy floor and brought a dusty fog to the room. The candles lit one by one, this time green flames, showing another room with another door at the other side.

  “Oh cool, another room,” Snow said. “How exciting.”

  Death stopped her from entering. He took the first step, staring at the walls for any traps, approaching the marble rub of stagnant water in the middle and looked at his own reflection in the water.

  “Do you think someone would die if they drank that?” Vera asked curiously. “I’m talkin’ like, real—RAH—”

  Death pushed her into the water and the water glowed blue. It spread from the tub, lighting up a drawing on one of the ruined slabs that looked like a drawing of an angel.

  “Are you sure you’re not an angel?” Snow asked. “There’s signs that suggest you are.”

  “I would know if I was, even without my memories.”

  Vera climbed out the tub, coughing, filling the room with a wet-dog and mouldy cheese smell. “The fuck was that for?” she yelped in sadness. “Now I’m cold!”

  “I have memories of those types of pits, they react to life.”

  “I could’ve just put my hand in!”

  “My method was quicker.”

  Snow giggled.

  “Don’t you be laughin’ at me!” Vera said jokingly. “Next time there’s a mysterious puddle I’ll throw you in!” She summoned her daggers and put the edge near her skin, letting the molten edge warm her up a tiny amount.

  A depiction of an angel doesn’t explain much about a thing. This next door has more stairs, I can see it through the iron bars.

  It took dozens of kicks to bring this door down. Snow and Vera joined their feet to Death’s cause and finally brought it down. The door slid down the steps, activating the candles all the way to the bottom.

  “Thank the gods,” Snow said, relieved. “That’s only a short way down… I can’t handle another set of stairs like the first ones.”

  This took them to a room that shocked Death due to its scale. It presented them with a bridge, a deathly drop either side so deep that the light turned to pure darkness half-way down. Wisps of blue and white twirled around the bridge, showing the way, some darted to the edges of the ruins and shown a mass graveyard, thousands of stone coffins built into the walls.

  “This is a crypt,” Death realised. “How they built this place or how they made it so deep underground, only a god or multiple magic users of raw power could aid in this.”

  “Maybe you built it,” Vera suggested.

  “Building my own tomb is idiotic, suggests I planned to die; I am a conqueror, fox, I never plan to die.”

  “Did you plan to get betrayed by the succubus and the fellow with the scar, hm?”

  A lone rock struck the tip of Death’s boot, only a tiny pebble. Hm, I don’t see any other debris on this bridge, he thought. He glanced upward and saw the culprit.

  If you come across this story on Amazon, it's taken without permission from the author. Report it.

  A monstrous, stone-skinned beast lurked on the ceiling. Eyes aglow with red, uniform ruby fangs. Beneath black rock, throbbing pink flesh. Half golem, half living creature.

  “Snow, get behind me!” Death commanded.

  It fell to the bridge with an earth-shaking crash, blocking the way they came with a smirk across its sparkling smile.

  Blade won't break stone, but my Choking Chain might shatter it down to the flesh and make it vulnerable if I pick the right spots. The beast is big, thrice my height, possibly more. The stone is shifting like muscle, like they’re squishy, this beast uses magic to sustain its own hunger to prevent starvation in this ruin—I must go for the head and try end this fight fast, this is not a favourable arena of battle for me to fight and protect Snow simultaneously.

  Vera dashed forward with her daggers. The molten edges gave a screech as they scraped uselessly against the stone. She stabbed between the gaps, puncturing flesh, angering it—it seized her by the head and hurled her off the bridge. She stuck her dagger in the stone as she fell, suspend above an arch of the bridge and staring down at her death beneath her feet.

  “OH MY, OH MY GODS!” Vera yelled, summoning her second dagger back to herself and finding a grip. “FUCK. FUCK. FUCK. I’M GONNA SAY THE PHRASE, I WANT BEION’S HELP.”

  She yelled the phrase repeatedly, nothing happened. “The magic source you sensed at the door is making you silent to any outside of its influence,” Death yelled. “If you want to survive, don’t squirm.”

  He unleashed the Choking Chain against the golem. Alas, it was cleverer than expected, letting the chain coil around its first with a mocking sneer of his efforts.

  There are plenty of statues around this place resembling me. It must recognise me—studying me, taunting me, it has a brain in that stone somewhere, a consciousness, toying with the advantage it has over me… this is not a mindless golem bashing all that enter, it is a ruthless predator, protecting something.

  “Beast!” Death screamed. “Do you not recognise me? There are plenty of statues with my face!”

  It ignored him, yanking him forward and slamming him to the bridge with a wet roar, breath stinking like burning coals.

  “Beast!” Death yelled. “Do you not see who I am?”

  It ignored him and pulled Death towards his fist, slamming him down with a wet roar in his face.

  Damn this chain, curse weapons that are bound to flesh. If there were peasants around me, I would sever my own hand.

  Snow summoned Firedick, charging bravely. It swatted her aside like an insignificant fly but then paused, turning attention back to Death and sniffing him, pondering something, clearly confused.

  I can reach one of my blades while this beast is distracted with its task… perhaps that eye is flesh, not jewel.

  He pulled his sword and pushed it up into the eye. It was no gem, fleshy, squishy, hitting a hard stone at the back of the socket.

  The golem shrieked and flung Death into the air, slamming him against the wall of coffins then pummelling him to the bridge with an overhead slam, releasing its grip on the Choking Chain.

  Death rose unscathed and unbeaten. Aleion’s drained strength has earned its worth, he thought.

  The golem tore the sword from its eye and regrew the eye, then tossed Death’s sword to the abyss.

  “Are you gonna help me!” Vera yelled, still dangling. “I don’t know how much longer I can hold on for!”

  Death drew his second sword from his second scabbard. That is interesting… very interesting... the beast is mirroring my stances, adapting to each of my styles by moving the position of their legs and head. It’s trained well in combat.

  “I see you’re aware of my fighting styles and techniques, golem of the ruins!” Death yelled. “This battle has just started and I can see you are a formidable opponent. Tell me, do you speak the common tongue of man, or understand it?”

  It was clear the golem understood yet didn’t care. It jumped to the wall of coffins and threw one at him, which he destroyed with a whip of the Choking Chain. They kept coming, flung at him like a squirrel throwing a barrage of nuts.

  Death grew tired and disorientated. When he noticed the tombs had stopped coming, the golem was back on the bridge and running for him. It barged into him head-first with full power. He rolled to a still, looking at it booming his way.

  “Stop!” Snow yelled. “You ugly beast, come and get me!”

  The golem skid to a still and turned to Snow. She was swinging the blade from a distance, trying to replicate the arcs of fire released by Deilon Flame, not realising that the fire came from his ability to summon fire as a demon, not a link to his soul.

  She fell backwards, sword still raised, the golem growled above her, eyes narrowing quizzically, eyes turning to the familiar blue of her own.

  It pressed a colossal finger to her chest, a shimmering wave of magic rippled across her body and left her with a zap. The golem became docile, calm, protective.

  “Wha—what,” Snow moaned. “I didn’t do anything!”

  “Snow! I’m going to fall!” Vera yelled. “Mister Death! Anyone! Are you both dead?”

  The golem heard the screams and lowered a hand, grabbing her like a monkey would a banana. She screamed, fearing it was going to eat her, but it placed her next to Snow with a rumbly purr.

  “What the fuck is it doing,” she asked.

  “I don’t know,” Snow admitted. “It just stopped attacking.”

  “Oh, oh, I think I just shit my pants.”

  “You’re not wearing any pants.”

  “Oh,” Vera moaned. “I would watch where you step.”

  Death attacked with the iron ball. It turned and caught it, pinning it to the ground with a threatening growl before tossing it back.

  “What is this?” Death said. “Snow, what did you do to tame the beast? I sense a magical bond; it has bound itself to you.”

  “Bound itself to me?” Snow squealed. “Why me? I didn’t do a thing!”

  When I was awakened there were corpses strewn about my tomb like dead ants… Snow was able to break my sealing, is the reason the same for her ability to tame this creature? Gods, let it not be what I suspect, it cannot be fate.

  “Must be fate,” Vera joked.

  “Fox, if you mention fate ever again, I will rip out your lung and make you eat it.”

  “What is he angry at me for?”

  Snow patted the golem’s nose. “I’m not sure how I feel about this… it was just trying to kill us moments ago.”

  “Yeah, and you threw me off the bridge!” Vera scolded it like a naughty puppy. “How dare you! Bad golem!”

  The golem showed signs it was apologetic. “Don’t be mean to them! I will name them Golus!”

  “Do not name the random beast in the crypt,” Death sighed. “It may still want to eat you. It has bound itself to you.”

  “Does that mean I can summon it?!”

  “Possibly,” Death said. “I can smell magic and bonds, but not their conditions—now come, I don’t wish to stay until your new pet decides it wants to eat one of us.”

  The golem guided them to the end of the bridge, a dead gem in the middle void of magic and life. He tapped his nose against it and the crypt sprung to life with blue fireflies. The cracked walls formed into murals that stunned all three of them.

  There were four in total, all of death. Him wielding Souleis atop of Heaven, duelling a shadow with a red slash over the eye; a show of his betrayal, bound to his bed with a purple succubus draining him of his powers; a mob of peasants carrying Death away from a castle atop a mount while the shadow slaughtered the heroes who stayed to protect them; the fourth was covered by a still curtain between the depiction his betrayal and the battle atop Heaven.

  Snow didn’t know what to say, Vera had no jokes. The stone tombs turned to marble and cracked open, revealing remains in their armour. Death vaguely recognised the armour on instinct, however the memory of who they were wasn’t there.

  “That shadow is the scarred man,” Death said. “This is linear, a story… but there is no text, I fought this scarred man before he had betrayed me.”

  He moved to the hidden mural and tore down the curtain. It was him and the shadow working together, carving a golem out of black stone with chisels and hammers.

  “You made him?” Vera said. “You and the scarred guy, he must have really hated you to betray you—seems personal.”

  That explains why the beast knows how to fight well, it’s trained on me, sculpted by me—I am the one with chisel to stone, he is only watching, no detail in a mural is on accident, the fact he is depicted as a shadow and I am clear means these people seen me as… a … a hero? I have done nothing heroic in my life, or is it simply that I was the lesser of two evils?

  A fifth mural lit up at the end of the story, showing twenty-four men in armour sacrificing their lives to seal Death away from the shadowy scarred man until the day is sealing can be broken.

  “This isn’t the tomb I was placed in by the scarred man,” Death realised. “This is a place I was taken to when my body was rescued.”

  “You did have friends,” Vera joked.

  “No, I didn’t, I know that I didn’t—the scarred man said I would be conscious for my sealing but there was none of that. It was like a blink for me, a snap of the fingers, betrayed and then awake.”

  Snow took his arm for his comfort. From the moment he came out of that tomb he was certain he was the ultimate evil, that his duty was to kill every living person that refused his rule. Now, looking at the paintings of people sacrificing themselves for him, how they made the effort to write his story, he wondered what part of himself had been cut off with his lost memories.

  Deep down, he knew killing was what he wanted, he had no shadowing doubts about it. I know I brought the nations to heel, why would they go through such efforts for my rescue? I wish the walls could speak their history with real words.

  The golem laid down, colour disappearing, Snow had worried that somehow it had died. She felt its heartbeat, sleeping, dormant and waiting for her future summons.

  Death didn’t say a word as he carried Snow up the steps. Vera was exhausted. The squirrels in the trees were all staring at him, as were the birds and insects. He gave a roar, scaring them off, and sat distraught on a fallen pillar.

  “I’m not good with serious situations,” Vera said. “But that seemed like it sucked for you, I’m sorry.”

  “We’re going to Vatanil,” Death ordered. “If you’re so worried about dying when we get there you can stay outside with the wagon and horses, but we are going.”

  “We’ll go wherever you want, Death,” Snow whispered. “We are yours, and we will listen, the scarred man will pay for what he did to you, I promise.”