Throughout the entire time speaking and playing against the Reaper I felt a keen sense of steadily magnifying dread.

At first, I was calm. The Reaper has already shown what he is, thus remains the question of whether I can do anything about it.

I look down at the now frozen hourglass. Frozen as it is, the Reaper has implied what it truly represents.

Breaking from my reverie… “So, what now?”

The Reaper’s eyes bore into to me. It makes my skin crawl.

“I cannot return you to Earth. You seem to think that there is a third option. It is entirely up to you to seek that.” His expression changes slightly, showing a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes.

“Good luck on your journey.”

The Reaper vanished after that, leaving the hourglass and chess set behind.

I sat there for a while, thinking about what had just transpired. Apparently, the Reaper intends to leave me to my own devices?

Standing up, I bend down to look at the hourglass more closely. It is finely crafted; I don’t recognize the wood either. I can see intricate carvings tracing across its surface as well. The whole thing is trimmed in silver along its edges, while it's fairly warm to touch and radiates a gentle heat.

The markings indicate a language presumably unknowable to one such as myself. It sits in the palm of my hand, almost a foot tall, and weighing as much as a filled thermos.

Looking around I see that there is a seemingly endless twilight in all directions.

Guess I ought to pick a direction and start walking. Wish I had shoes. Thanks Reaper.

----------------------------------------

It's difficult to say how much time I had spent walking at this point. The beam of light has dropped off into the distance. Naught but a tiny pinhole in a sea of dark. Even still, I could clearly see myself through the peculiar nothingness that I traverse.

Having a lot of time to think, I look back on my experiences. Everything up until the point of meeting the Reaper had been uninteresting.

I had a decent time with life but I'd never really struggled or had a sad childhood or anything. Just empty and boring. Played a few too many video games, and never really got a real chance at falling in love. In hindsight, it was admittedly my own fault, lacking the courage or drive to actually confess.

My parents weren't bad, and I had led a relatively sedate life of learning and reading. I never really had the height or the body mass for most sports either.

It's rather unfortunate I didn't get to say goodbye though. My little sister will be devastated.

Taking in a deep breath, I wondered if all the regular physical laws were at play here. Checking my pockets… Pocket lint and… A Loonie. Taking it out and holding it in my left hand, I pause to flip it when I hear a voice to my right. It mumbled something unintelligible.

Gazing in that direction, I see a woman chained to a pillar, her jet black hair is ridiculously long and her clothes are tattered beyond recognition. She's looking at me, and says the same thing again but much slower. Her voice sounds melodious and clear. The pillar itself is a massive chunk of slate covered in faintly glowing runes.

I shake my head. "I don't understand you, I'm sorry."

Shaking her head in apparent frustration, she sighs. Rattling the heavy chains slightly, she begins speaking in that same unfamiliar language. It takes on a pleading tone, until finally the runes on the pillar sharply intensify.

"Ahhhh! Dammit that's bright." Covering my eyes, it ends just as abruptly as it began.

"Did it work? Can you understand me?" she says.

“Uhhhh yeah. I...”

“Shush. I don’t have very much time to explain. So listen closely.”

“This is Limbo. I cannot leave. Do not touch these chains. You will be trapped as I am now.”

“You.” pointing at the hourglass. “Have the means to leave.”

“You are very fortunate you encountered me first.”

The runes pulse.

“Many of the denizens of this place would seek to take that from you, if only out of spite for having lost theirs.”

Pulse.

“There is a trick to navigating this place. Fate wanted you here. And If Fate wants you to leave, then you should let her help you.”

“My name is... Moiraine. Please, remember my name. I hope we-”

With a brief flash of light, the slate pillar vanishes taking Moiraine and her chains along with it.

Taking her advice, I finished the coin flip I had started. Taking note of directions, I mentally noted left for heads, and tails for right.

With a soft ping, I flip it. I reach forward to catch it, miss, and see it bounce on the ground… Once. Twice… And rolls onto its side.

“Now what the hell does that mean?”

I guess I'll flip it again.

… Only for it to land on its side once again.

Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.

“Maybe the meaning is painfully obvious…”

“Oh I get it.”

I flip it four more times to be absolutely sure. It lands on its side. Every damn time.

This time… Heads forward, tails backward.

I flip it once more, and it lands on heads.

I start walking in the indicated direction and counting my steps. Every hundred, I throw the coin to make sure I’m roughly on track.

----------------------------------------

I think I’ve been at this for hours. Lot of good this hourglass is for keeping time. I have entirely lost count of how many steps I have taken. Thousands. Perhaps tens of thousands.

I’m beginning to wonder if I’m wandering around without meaning.

The cool surface of stone on my bare feet gets my attention first though. Looking back behind me, I can see the abrupt change in contrast. Cracked and ancient paving stones, with the occasional patch of solid inky black.

Checking my Loonie Compass… Further along I suppose.

It doesn't take long for my surroundings to shift into ruins of a sort. Low foundations of collapsed buildings, the occasional fallen tower.

Even what passes for what was once a wall. It rises mere centimetres off the ground, only noticeable because of the remains of some sort of gate house.

Hints of gold can be seen inlaid into the paving stones. Fallen statues of what appears to have been humanoid figures lay everywhere.

Clambering over them is easy, but the rough stone is proving hard on my feet. It hurts, but I must go on.

Stumbling… I flail, narrowly avoiding a fallen sword wielding statue. Rolling over, I find even having landed on the hourglass, it bears no marks whatsoever.

“Guess I don't have to worry about you too much.”

Dusting myself off, I look at the sword that might have ended me here and now. Even after all this.

It looks like a shortsword, its previously owner nearly crushed by me.

“Sorry Mr Statue, but I might need this.” it proves quite heavy, even considering its length. I let the flat of the blade rest on my shoulder.

It looks like fairly high quality high carbon steel. Not even a flake of rust on it though. Weird. Like everything in this place I guess.

This oppressive silence is getting to me. Better than featureless void mind you.

It is then that the first piece of vegetation appeared, barren trees in their hundreds in a courtyard. Stone yields to the dirt beside the path, and I look on in amazement at a broken tower that once rose to an impossible height.

It's jagged top is bent in a concerning manner, and pieces of it just... Gone... As if ripped away.

This is clearly my destination. I step up to its doors, curiosity at once getting the better of me. Pushing them open takes all my strength and weight.

Behind them I am subject to an even more stark contrast than elsewhere. Stripes of furniture lie in perfect condition as if the very day they were built, in contrast to shattered remains of others, as if random destruction and decay has not quite taken this place.

I turn to close the door, and wish I hadn't looked back.

Everything right up to the edge of the courtyard around the tower had fallen into darkness, and in that darkness, I can see millions of pinpoints of glowing baleful eyes. I slam the door shut with adrenaline fueled strength, and bar it with the nearest object I could find, a coat rack. I doubt it will slow whatever those things are.

Scanning the room, I can see no other objects of interest than a stairwell in the center of the tower that only goes up.

I take the stairs two at a time, only taking a moment to noticing that my feet have started to actually bleed at this point, leaving bloody footprints on the stairs. The adrenaline must be helping me ignore the pain.

I pass one floor, totally ruined.

The next one is just like it.

The walls have blasted out like shattered from an explosion. The way the stonework is warped makes it look like the stone itself exploded.

Seems impossible that the tower’s structure can be stable with this kind of stress on the lower floors like this, considering its height.

As if to illustrate my thoughts, the entire tower shakes violently. I keep running, my guide has not let me down yet.

I have advanced up to the Eleventh floor, and I can finally see what I am here for. A library, filled with thousands of scrolls, shelves and lecterns placed strategically to allow people to pass between.

This entire floor is pristine. The wood practically glows as if it were waxed yesterday.

There.

I can see it.

On a raised lectern at the back of the room, and clearly afforded some sort of honor amongst all other scrolls.

I flip the coin again for good measure. Moving towards it, I feel a sense of both urgency and apprehension.

Tucking the hourglass into my belt, and dropping the shortsword to the floor beside the lectern, I take up the scroll with both hands.

It is magnificent. A work of art for something so clearly functional.

Alarmingly, I can read its script even though i’m aware it is no language I have ever seen. It’s script looks similar to hebrew, but it is written in great flowing lines stylized to appear like exaggerated feathers.

Meaningless dates. It’s authors name is familiar. Moiraine. I give silent thanks.

A brief summary of what it appears to do: Some sort of teleport to somewhere.

I have no idea. It has an alarmingly long list of things I shouldn't do prior to using it as well.

Like not eating meat for thirty four hours, before AND after. It requires me to draw a circle of some sort with chalk too. It also specifically mentions that any pause in the uttering of the spell on this scroll can cause all manner of horrific things.

All of it in enough detail to make a criminal defense lawyer begin sweating. It’s like a giant program.

Taking a deep breath, and listening carefully. I begin to look about the room for the various materials required for this ritual.

It’s all here.

Moiraine was clearly interrupted before finishing this spell though, which is concerning to say the least. It's still my best chance.

----------------------------------------

I stand inside the meticulously drawn circle. Holding the scroll in front of me, I begin the opening phrases. A series of nonsense words with no apparent connection to each other.

Continuing, I find myself as a passenger hearing myself read the words. My pace picks up slowly. I almost stop, as I take in a sharp breath between phrases.

I see about ten feet from me a shelf literally evaporates into a pile of dust. This place is coming apart even as I read.

I should be terrified, but everything seems muted.

Line after line, the only sounds are my voice, the tower, and the occasional plonk of a bookshelf dropping its books and scrolls onto the floor, only to evaporate shortly afterwards.

As I approach the end, I realize that I’m forgetting something. It still escapes me.

I feel a tugging at my belt that slowly grows in weight.

I quickly fish out the hourglass, and stare at it, entirely at a loss for what I am seeing. The top is rapidly filling, while the bottom rapidly drains.

All of it. It's getting heavier, so much that it would seem it should burst from the amount of sand it contained.

Flashes and sparkles play out around me, and the circle itself has begun to glow.

As if feeling the need to scare me further, a pair of red eyes stares back at me through a window in the tower.

Then pain.

Blinding pain in my back. Looking down, a sword suddenly sticks out of my lower abdomin.

I can not scream.

I must not.

For the ritual will fail.

I speak it’s last words, a painful ordeal that causes me to speak blood. Everything goes silent.