Mordred woke up to the sound of wrought-iron doors squealing shut. All around him was shadow, with only the soft, fragile glow of candlelight to break through the endless black. He paused, his eyes still taking a second or so to get used to the brightness — or lack thereof. Where was he? And why was it so dark?

A cell, or the remnants of it at least, was his answer. Old cobblestone walls fenced him in on three sides, and thick metal slabs barred his exit on the fourth. Fortunately, the steel door was bent wide open, giving him free rein to the outside world.

“Where… Where am I?” He whispered to himself. His last memory was of him laying down on his bed, prepared to have a good night’s rest so he would be in tip-top shape during the interview tomorrow. A few minutes of the usual silence, then, darkne—

Abruptly, a splitting headache struck him, and in moments he was on the floor clutching his head with both of his hands.

“Gah! What the—?!” He let out a bloodcurdling scream as he rubbed hard at his temples, trying to get the pain to stop when suddenly, he remembered.

He could remember everything: his life other than as Mordred Lefay, his life as Mercurio Alfonse; his decade-long career as a thief, his eventual capture, and the long, arduous years spent in this dark and dreary gaol.

“I… I’m supposed to be dead!” He felt around the back of his head. He could still recall the phantom pain, the feeling of having his head cracked open like an egg as he lay there dying, staring indignantly as his enemies laughed at his soon-to-be corpse.

Of course, that meant he could remember what happened next, and how much joy it brought him before he ultimately bled out: the Orchidon. It was the beast responsible for the severe warp in the door, and the only form of justice he received. Unconsciously, he smiled at the memory of it tearing his killers apart, before leaving his dying body to hunt for more prey.

In a way, he was glad that it came when it did, right as he was about to die, but not so late that he couldn't witness his murderer's being ripped limb from limb. But enough reminiscing, he had to find out what happened after his untimely demise.

“God… what ever happened to this place?” He looked around. The walls didn’t look so dilapidated when he was alive, or at least it wasn't as bad as it was now, “how long was I out?”

The world’s only reply was a cold draft that sent a bitter chill down his spine.

Brrr! No use staying here talking to myself. Time to escape! He thought as he cautiously stepped out of the cell. What he saw terrified him:

Skeletons. Everywhere. In cells; on the floor; on top of tables and sitting on destroyed chairs. It seemed as if the entire prison had failed to escape, and everyone was massacred by the Orchidon.

This can’t be. He thought as he dove deeper into the compound. Eventually, as the condition of the prison grew less and less well-maintained, gentle rays of sunlight began showing through the cracks. An Orchidon isn’t this lethal; an entire prison’s worth of hardened criminals, officers AND an iron golem should be able to—

“What…?” He stopped dead in his tracks, unable to move from the sheer shock of the sight before him:

Illuminated by a gigantic hole in the roof, like an actor standing under the glare of spotlights, stood a grand throne of moss and cobblestone. Cracked and half-destroyed from age, its lustre had long been lost to the annals of time and entropy. Surrounding it was a mass of bone and skull, and at the centre of them all, was a demon.

“Ah… a visitor…? I haven’t had one in so long.”

Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.

Indeed, if the impromptu graveyard was all there was, Mordred wouldn’t be so surprised. He was a combat medic in his past life, and he was used to such sights. But that… thing sitting on the throne, it was unnatural.

“Come closer now… don’t be shy!”

It was a human… if the term had been stretched to its extremes and then transformed into something unrecognisable. The… carcass? Body? The body was skeletal — not a skeleton — it still had skin, though you could see the outlines of bones right under it. Its face — again, if you could call it that — was sunken and gaunt, like the flesh had loosened around the skull and just barely hung on. It had no eyes, nose or lips, with the features being replaced with abyssal holes that expanded on into horrific infinity. As with everything else about it, the body had scarcely any clothes, a torn robe covering its lower parts being the only piece of modesty it had left.

But the thing that fascinated him most, and perhaps frightened him most, was the golden orb embedded into its abdomen. Adorned with intricate carvings the likes of which he had never seen before, Mordred was entranced by the patterns on the orb.

“Mayhaps I didn’t speak clearly,” He snapped out of his reverie when he heard the decrepit voice of the skeleton sound out from its ghastly throat, “I said come… CLOSER!”

He gasped as he felt his body moving on its own accord; his feet would not listen, and his body would not stop. Mordred whimpered as he inched closer and closer to the corpse, but it was no use. Nothing could stop him from advancing.

“There. Was that so hard?” Mordred didn’t — no, couldn’t breathe as he stood at attention in front of the skeletal monstrosity, “Do not worry, boy, I mean you no harm.”

“What— what do you want from me?” He grunted with difficulty; with his entire body still under its control, it became a challenge just to even speak. As he awaited his answer, Mordred took the time to examine the biological impossibility before him with a little more scrutiny:

Are those… pipes? There, connected to the length of its spine were five long, grey tubes the size of his forearm. He wasn’t able to see how they were connected, but he knew they burrowed deep into the throne, ensuring the skeleton’s imprisonment to the stone feature.

“Ah. You’ve noticed, hm? My… incapabilities.” The skeleton growled out, the glowing red dots shone from deep within its cavernous sockets as it stared intently at him, almost akin to a wild predator staring down its prey.

“What… What happened to you?” He whispered. It wasn’t strange to see some particularly gritty injuries in and out of the line of duty, but even this was taking things a step too far. Still, from the look of things, he could guess it was some type of life support system.

“This was… a grave mistake.” It intoned, and for a second, Mordred swore he could hear remorse in its tone, “A mistake that has cost untold amounts of lives.”

It paused, as if it was deliberating whether or not to share it with him. And although he wanted nothing more than to run away from the spooky skeleton corpse man, Mordred would be lying if he said he wasn’t curious as to what this ‘mistake’ was.

“No matter. The past has happened, and nothing we do will change it.” Sadly, it didn’t seem too keen on sharing, “but the present! Ah, the present; many things can twist in the blink of an eye…”

Mordred furrowed his brow at its cryptic remarks. But before he could press for any answers, he felt the restrictive pressure holding him upright disappear, abruptly dropping him to the floor.

“It’s been very long since I’ve had a visitor, you know? And even longer since I’ve had the fortune of meeting someone as interesting as you!” It chuckled mirthlessly, “I’ve decided. You shall be the cradle upon which my empire shall arise again.”

Before Mordred could accept — or decline — he saw the orb stop spinning, and with one swift motion, it shot into his body.

Guh?! He recoiled in shock as he stared at it sink into his body, and he could physically feel it settling into his chest. It was ungodly surreal, what he was going through, like there was a gigantic hole in his chest, but if he were to feel for it, all he would get was the warm touch of sweat, skin and hard bone.

“Argh! You— what did you do to me?!” Mordred pushed himself up and was ready to hurl himself at the corpse, “W-Wuh?”

Only to recoil in shock, when all he found was a mass of dust on the throne.

“Treat my gift well boy; your life hinges on its fickle axis.” And with that, it was gone.