“What the fuck, where the hell am I?” A loud voice asked as it looked around to the black emptiness surrounding it.

“Hello, Onelder,” a second, much more tired voice replied. The name was enough to trigger his brain into dredging up his final memories. Onelder was reasonably sure he should be dead, and even if he somehow wasn’t, why was he here? The figure that had spoken his name came into his view as the blackness lifted around them.

“Wait, I know you, don’t I?” Onelder was reasonably sure he knew the man in front of him; it was on the tip of his tongue.

“Almost certainly, who doesn’t know the name of Merlin?” The figure winked, and a few things clicked for Onelder.

“Wait, no, what the hell is really going on? You ain’t just Merlin,” Onelder said.

The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

“Let’s table that line of thought for now; some things are best left unsaid until the end. Going back to your first question, you are in a small spacial bubble in the abyss. It’s much easier to be unobserved here. What’s going on is a lot more complicated, but for now, I have a proposition for you,” Merlin said.

“And what’s that exactly? Can’t a man even die a hero in peace these days?” Onelder said, still trying to work out how any of this fit.

“No, well, I mean yes, it is possible, and you came incredibly close, but due to how and where you died, eventually, you’d have risen as a spiritual creature with all your previous memories intact, if not quite your body. I’m speeding that all up because I need your help,” Merlin said.

“Somethings never change, do they? What do you need?” Onelder asked, finally understanding what was happening.

“Have you ever considered a career in locomotives?” Merlin asked, smiling.