Wizen ascended the obsidian staircase, his footsteps swallowed by the endless void surrounding it. Every tap of his cane against the polished stone rolled out into the silence as if to echo, only to fade into the darkness and never return.

Sticky followed after Wizen, just a single step behind him, her shoulders hunched and gaze firmly locked on the pathway. A single missed step meant plummeting into the yawning shadows all around them.

The only source of light in the room was the open door far behind and below them, at the base of the stairs. The golden brick making up the hall beyond it shimmered as if in welcome. Every step Wizen took up the stairwell took him farther away from the light and deeper into the black.

Even though there should have been nothing with which to see by, the stairs and platform at their end were still somehow visible. The obsidian glistened as if it had been caught in the light of a distant moon and something like firelight seemed to dance in the stairs’ gold trimmings.

A faint scent lingered in the air. It held an elegant note of gentle sweetness wrapped in the embrace of despair, a fresh rosebud ripped from its plant ground underfoot. The aroma became harder to locate the more Wizen tried to place exactly what it was or where it came from.

There was no noise beyond that of Wizen and Sticky’s climb. It was so silent that Wizen could hear his own heartbeat. Despite everything he had seen over his many years of life, the hair on the back of Wizen’s neck stood on end.

Some emotions were beyond human control. They were so deeply ingrained in the psyche that they could never be removed. And now, it was one of those emotions that told Wizen he and Sticky were intruders.

Intruders in a place where no living being should have set foot.

For all of his planning and preparation, there was a grave difference between readying one’s mind for something and witnessing it in true.

He marched on.

Step after step, Wizen ascended the stairwell toward his goal. Toward the only thing in life that he had lived for. Hundreds of years, all for this moment. The key at his side felt as heavy as an anchor.

Every scrap of his being had gone into this. Thousands upon thousands of moments — of lives — just to ensure he would arrive here. To ensure he would set foot on this stairwell, set foot on the platform beyond it.

There was no room for any mistakes. He could allow no weakness to show through. When dealing with someone as powerful as a Rank 8, Wizen had to be an impenetrable wall. Even with the advantages he possessed, having so much as a single opening could —

Sticky slipped.

The sleek obsidian gave her no purchase with which to recover. She lost her balance and fell, her head hitting the edge of the stairs with a loud thunk.

Wizen spun back toward her just in time to see Sticky slide off the edge of the stairs. He lunged forward, but while his body was many things, fast was not one of them.

His hand passed through the air moments after the small demon, and she plummeted into the void below.

Darkness swallowed her in an instant. Something like a jagged blade of glass drove into Wizen’s chest and his breath stiffened. He thrust his hand out before a thought even had a chance to cross through his mind.

Gray threads burst from his fingertips and carved through the darkness. For several long moments, they unspooled through the shadows and vanished from view.

They went taut. There was a sharp jerk and Wizen’s arm almost yanked itself out of its socket. The force nearly pulled him right over the edge. If Sticky had been slightly heavier, he would have been.

Gritting his teeth, Wizen yanked his hand back. The threads shot back up to him, ferrying the small demon back over the edge of the stairs. Wizen grabbed onto her, making sure she didn’t slide off again. Blood slicked the side of her temple where it had hit the stairs.

Wizen pushed her hair back with a hand. The wound looked bad, but head injuries always did.

Ridiculous. Is this child actively trying to kill herself?

Wizen grabbed a small vial from his hip. A faint red liquid shimmered within it and it was capped by a carved glass seal. Wizen snapped the seal off and it clinked across the stairs before rolling off and into the darkness.

He pulled Sticky’s mouth open with a hand and upended the small potion into it. As soon as he had, he closed her jaw and held her nose shut. A second ticked by. The wound on her head started to fade, though half her face was still soaked in blood.

The demon’s eyes fluttered.

Wizen released her, his lips thin.

“Huh?” Sticky asked, blinking heavily. “What happened?”

“Are you an imbecile?” Wizen demanded. “How can you slip on stairs when climbing them is the only thing you are doing?”

Sticky reached up to her head. Her fingers came away red as they wiped blood away from the wound. “I got really dizzy. I don’t think I like heights. I didn’t mean to. I’m sorry.”

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Wizen hesitated for a second, then blew out a sharp breath. He drove his staff into the stairs and rose to his feet. His hand tingled. He glanced down at it. Thin gray lines pulsed beneath his skin, glowing with dull energy as they fought to keep his body together.

He grimaced.

Shit.

“Just get up,” Wizen said. “You can stand now, I trust? I don’t have a second potion to waste.”

Sticky carefully rose to her feet. She wiped her face with the back of a hand and swallowed before giving Wizen a shaky nod. “Yeah. It’s not as bad anymore. I’m less dizzy.”

Wizen stared at her.

She looked back at him.

She’s definitely going to fall off again. The girl is barely even able to stand.

“Why would you go up a flight of stairs like this if you’re scared of heights?” Wizen asked.

“I’m not scared of heights,” Sticky defended weakly. “I just got a little dizzy. I won’t fall again. I promise.”

Wizen’s hand tightened around his staff. He’d already brought the demon this far. He wasn’t about to send her back down the stairs on her own. She’d never make it back to the hall without falling again.

He grabbed Sticky by the back of her neck like a kitten. She let out a yelp as he lifted her into the air and brought her over to his back. At this point, he couldn’t allow her to die. Facing Sievan after that would be impossible.

“Hold,” Wizen ordered.

“I’m going to get blood on you.”

“I have so much blood on me that I highly doubt a little more will make a difference,” Wizen said dryly. “What will make a difference is another delay.”

Sticky immediately wrapped her arms around his neck and clung to his back. Wizen waited for a moment to make sure she wouldn’t lose her grip, then started up the stairs once more.

There was still a long way to go.

Strangely enough, even though he could have sworn he’d crossed the length of the stairwell many times over, he’d only managed to get up around a quarter of it.

Another trick. Sievan seemed to be fond of them. They would not stop Wizen. He couldn’t risk wasting any more magic than he already had, so he walked on. The stairwell couldn’t go on forever, and he was making progress, even if it was slow.

Minutes ticked by and stretched into hours. Step after step, Wizen ascended toward the platform floating in the center of the void. He was getting closer — just at an abysmally slow rate.

His domain brushed across the steps as he walked. Minute imbuements covered everything. The very air around him was completely saturated with runic energy. It was incredible. If Wizen had been here for any other reason, he would have sat on the steps and pondered the world around him for hours.

But today was not one for wasted time. He had no time left to waste — and so he climbed.

At some point, Sticky’s breathing slowed. She’d somehow managed to fall asleep. He had absolutely no idea how the tiny demon had managed to pull that off. They were in the presence of a natural wonder.

A location of magic so rare and powerful that the number of people who had borne witness to it were doubtlessly few. It was like sleeping through the dawn of a new era.

As the hours stretched by and Wizen’s ascent brought him slowly, steadily, toward the top, he found the faintest of smiles drifting across his lips.

Old memories tickled at the back of his mind. This wasn’t the first time that he’d carried someone on his back like this, but those memories that had been too painful to relive.

He’d kept them locked up in a box in the back of his mind for hundreds of years. They were a distraction. A solace that held him back from doing what had to be be done. But that would be over, soon. The box would not remain shut for much longer.

Time passed.

Wizen wasn’t sure how long it had been. If he was honest with himself, the silence was welcome. It had been a very long time since he’d had a moment of stillness like this. Sticky still clung to his back, and he walked at an angle to make sure she didn’t slip off in her sleep.

But, as all things always did, the stairs came to an end.

Wizen’s foot fell on the edge of the platform, and the sound echoed past his ears like the roar of a waterfall.

An obsidian chair sat in the very center of the platform. It was plain and without any form of adornment, no larger than a chair that Wizen might have found in his own study.

Sitting within the chair was a plain man in an equally plain gray suit. His hands rested in his lap, fingers interlaced. His features were so uninteresting that they may as well have been impossible to remember. A perfectly average nose, thin lips that weren’t quite thin enough to be noticeable, pale skin, and dusty brown hair. He was neither tall nor short. He was not beautiful, nor was he ugly. He wasn’t fat, and he wasn’t thin.

But that ended with his eyes.

The man had no irises. Two milky orbs bore into Wizen as he stepped out onto the platform. They were empty and flat. No power or immense intelligence burned behind them. There was simply nothing.

Wizen drew to a stop across the platform from the demon.

“Sievan.”

Sticky’s eyes fluttered open. Awe and fear mixed in her features. She slipped down from Wizen’s back to stand at his side, not saying a word.

“And so the Woven Man arrives,” Sievan said, uncrossing his hands from his lap. His words were like a gentle wind coiling through the night, leaving no trace of their passing. “It seems you have brought a passenger with you. Unexpected.”

He knows that old name? I suppose I should not be surprised.

“She is a witness,” Wizen replied. He drew the key from his side. Power pulsed within the gateway, threatening to spill over. Wizen kept it locked away. He couldn’t allow even the slightest amount of the energy to go to waste. “You know why I am here.”

“An odd choice for a witness,” Sievan said. He uncrossed his hands and rose from his chair. “You are slightly early. Our other guest has yet to arrive.”

Another guest?

Wizen didn’t let the baited question draw his attention. There was only one thing he was here for.

“I did not come here to meet with anyone other than you,” Wizen said. He pressed the key between the palms of his hands. The gray lines running beneath the skin of his right hand pulsed. Deep within him, an ancient rune shuddered as he called upon its strength.

Threads of dull energy unraveled from Wizen’s body. They coiled through the air around him like seaweed in an ocean current. Power bubbled forth from his chest and ran to flood through his entire body.

“I know,” Sievan said softly. “You will not win this, Woven Man. I am Death, and you cannot oppose me.”

“I am human. It is my nature to oppose what cannot be defeated. I will not leave until I have what I came here for.”

“Your desire is beyond your reach.”

“But not yours,” Wizen replied. He put a hand on Sticky’s shoulder and pushed her a step back as the power gathering within him intensified. “Open the way to the afterlife, or I will wrest your power from you and do it myself. I have come to take back my daughter.”