Normally I would curse Gabriel in a situation like this, as he affords me no opportunity to question him further before he leans in with a wink and a smile that dares me to tremble at his last message. But I hold tight to the folded paper he furtively pressed into my hand as he left.

“Death?” Conquest slips to my side. I see the unspoken question in their eyes. I say nothing. My mind is a flurry of ideas and memories. So many memories. The weight of my past crushes upon my present and the rapidly oncoming future.

“It was War’s decision,” Conquest says, and the question in their eyes has now hardened to resolve. “And we know yours.” Their bow is in their hand, arrow gleaming.

“Why do you follow me, Conquest?”

“Does it matter?” they ask.

I cannot help but smile. Did I not say those exact words to War but days ago?

“I suppose it…” I pause.

Does it matter -- has it ever mattered? I have never considered their reasons -- any Horseman’s reasons for following me. Yes, I am the only one who may stand alone, apart from the others. But they come; they leave the messages to me; they follow in my wake.

They have not always -- not when I first opened my eyes. When I looked up from the floor of this very inner sanctum into the eyes of Gabriel and of War. Hair like night, a smile to ruin human nations. My own mentor -- my War. My first for whom I called The Messenger. The first and only time I wept.

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

When Death weeps, I shed tears of blood in small, ruby-crimson drops. But Horsemen are not meant to cry, are not meant to feel anything but what we must do -- who we are.

But this ever-unraveling Apocalypse is extraordinary: power radiates from Conquest and Famine with such intensity it makes my eyes roll back in my head; I cannot resist breathing it in. I know that I am responsible for this. I do not believe my judgement in error, and yet I have brought myself to a point where standing alone is no longer a desirable, necessary option.

I need the others. I believe I also need to tell them the truth that I now know.

“Yes,” I reply. “For once -- just this once...it does matter.”

Conquest stares me down before breaking away to gaze up at the ceiling. I join them, my eyes tracing over the curves and edges of the stone angels that stand guardian over the inner sanctum. Beautiful.

“It’s really quite simple,” they shrug. “I know that you’d have turned yourself in before breaking title. That means there’s something more to this match than what meets the eye. Too many pieces on the board are hiding things, or are not quite what they seem. Thus, the standard rules of play do not apply. So,” Conquest sighs, “the only question now is: what’s next?

Sending myself to the Messenger. The idea sends a shiver across the seal upon my neck, or perhaps that is everything else that apparently goes on around us. I shake my head with a small, bittersweet smile. What is next, indeed.

“I shall open my doors.”

“You’re letting us in?” Famine bounds up between us with a massive grin, slinging two thin arms around our shoulders. “You’re actually going to let us in?”

Let me in, Gabriel had written.

I have a feeling I shall regret this decision.