He seemed old, despite just recently cresting thirty. His back was hunched; his shoulders sagged, perhaps from the weight of his rusty plated armor. Across his face, deep lines ran. Some were wrinkles, others scars, testaments to his long occupation as a fighter, since early childhood. 

A sigh escaped his lips and then a wry smile. 

He picked up a chipped mug and held it up high into the air. The mug trembled in his unsteady hand, the liquid inside splashing out and across the table. And across the table the man looked. To the left, then right, surveying the faces of his merry band of six. 

The twins were arguing as always, George and Stephanie, but then, they were ice and fire mage respectively. On their left was the ever distant Ashton, whose gruff appearance belied a gentle, druidic nature. To the other side was Natalia, the archer of their party. Suffice to say, if breasts were a personality, she was the most interesting of their lot. And finally, sitting across from him was his wife, Delilah. Beautiful, charming Delilah, whose belly was ever so slightly plumper with life.

The sound of the bard’s music rang in his ears. The smell of the inn’s freshly baked bread floated through his nose. He steadied himself and opened his mouth to speak, to address his motley crew of adventurers.

“To Solaris, may we forever be the light in this eternal darkness! Cheers!”

His voice crackled and croaked, but he did not seem to notice. Then again, there was much the man did not appear to perceive. For one, the liquid he was ingesting, which to him tasted of rum, was actually stagnant milk, live with maggots. For another, the dainty inn in which he sat had, in fact, no bread or bard, nor was it even an inn. It was a dilapidated building which at one point had been a whore house, that now even the whores had fled. Last of all, there was no one else at the table. No wife. No friends. He was utterly alone.

One could hardly fault the man, however. How could one taste with no tongue? How could one see with sockets for eyes?

The man set the mug down, the gentle thud echoing through the stillness. He then glanced down at his chest, at the dagger piercing his heart, at the white rose embellishing its handle. He stared at it for a second more, blankly pondering what it could all mean, and then with one long exhale, he too, like the room, became still.

****

The man found himself in a long, deserted hallway. It was dimly lit, but he could see a faint glow far ahead in the distance. As if compelled by some gentle wind pushing him from behind, he slowly began gliding towards the light. No matter how much he moved, however, he never seemed to get any closer. But then, just like that, he arrived, out of the hall and into a small room.

It was an office of sorts, with stacks of papers strewn about. In the center was a worn looking desk made of thick oak. But most surprising of all was the figure sitting behind the desk. It was a child, a young girl, looking to be about eight or nine years old. She had dark, brown hair, tied into two ponytails. Her head was resting on thin, folded arms upon the table, sound asleep, at least, until he arrived. As the man drew closer to the desk, the girl shuffled in her seat, raising her head slowly. She let out a wide yawn and rubbed her eyes before opening them and turning in his direction.

This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author's work.

He was struck momentarily by how beautiful the girl’s eyes were. Big, golden orbs that seemed to glow warmly like the sun. 

The girl stood up- she was about four feet tall- and came around the desk, before she finally spoke. “Hello.” While her mouth did not move, he nonetheless perceived her voice. It sounded warped, like he was listening to a distant echo. “Can I help you?”

“I- I don’t know,” the man replied honestly.

The girl smiled. She took a step forward, a spring in her movement, reaching out a small hand. “May I?” she asked, gesturing in his direction.

He nodded and felt a gentle, but firm pressure start to emanate from her outstretched hand. A few seconds later, the girl took a step back, letting her hand drop to her side. 

“An interesting life you have lived, Mister Benjamin. Tell me, was it a happy one?”

The man named Benjamin shook his head. “I don’t know. My memories are a bit hazy.”

“I see. I suppose that happens from time to time. Do you know why you are here?”

Again, he shook his head.

“Well, this is the Room of Judgement, where your afterlife is to be decided.” Suddenly, the girl lifted both her hands facing up. In her palms were two different spheres, one white, one red, about the size of marbles. She let him look on for a moment before balling her hands into fists. Then turning to him, she said, “Tell me, do you deserve Heaven-?” She shook her right hand which contained the white orb. “-or Hell?” She shook the other hand which contained the red orb.

The man pondered for a long time. Finally, he pointed a ghastly finger at her left hand. The girl’s eyes opened just a tad in surprise, a smirk crossing her face. “Interesting.” She then opened her left hand, revealing an empty palm. There was nothing inside. Then she repeated the motion with her right hand, which was also empty.

“I don’t understand,” the man said slowly.

“Humans often don’t,” she shrugged.

“So what happens now?”

“Now we part ways,” the girl replied.

As if by her very words, the man began to shimmer, his already ghastly body fading in and out of view. 

“Until we meet again, Mister Benjamin,” the girl said, but by then, the man was already gone.

****

“I’m back.”

“About time,” the girl sigh. She threw up her arms and stretched, getting out of the uncomfortable chair.

“Anything happen while I was gone?”

The girl turned. She watched as the scrawny man took his place in the seat in her stead. Already, he was picking up a pen and starting to write. The girl shrugged. “Nothing ever happens around here.”

Something about the girl’s tone caused the man to pause. He looked up, icy blue eyes peering across the bridge of his sharp nose at her.

“What?” the girl asked, her large, golden eyes brimming with innocence.

“What did you do, Loki?” he asked.

“I’m offended that you would immediately suspect me of wrongdoing,” the girl pouted.

“Your offense is duly noted. Now, what did you do?”

“No~thing~!” the girl chirped, spinning around before starting to walk away.

“Loki-!” the man protested, but before he could say more, several hundred pounds of paper suddenly materialized above him, dropping down and burying him in paperwork. The girl swirled around for a second to look, a smirk across her face. Her index finger was still lifted, the residue of mana shimmering in the air. Then she turned back around and walked away, humming a tune to herself.

“Now, let’s go take a peek, shall we?”