In the shadowed depths of his sanctum, Lord Death sat motionless in his ancient chair. His skeletal frame was draped in robes of night-black shadow, and his hollow gaze peered across a room that seemed to stretch into infinity. Shelves of relics and tomes from forgotten eras lined the walls, each glowing faintly with residual power, their enchantments whispering ancient secrets. The sanctum’s walls were made of something impossible—neither stone nor air—pulsing gently, as if alive, as souls flitted through like drifting embers. The only light came from an eerie blue flame hovering overhead, casting long, flickering shadows that moved as if they had lives of their own.
At his side stood Aurelia, goddess of light, her form a striking contrast to the gloom. Her gleaming armor shone like molten gold, and the folds of her robe shimmered with warm, celestial energy. She stood tall, radiating an aura of both divine beauty and subtle arrogance, her presence almost too bright for the sanctum’s dark recesses. In her hands was a large, timeworn journal, the leather worn smooth from centuries of use.
The brittle pages whispered as Aurelia flipped through the journal, her fingers absently tracing the faded script. A soft sigh escaped her lips, the sound carrying a note of exasperation. “This is my journal, and it chronicles times more dire than I ever imagined.”
A flicker of amusement danced in her eyes as she glanced toward the grim reaper across from her. “Dire? Really? Your flair for the dramatic never ceases to amaze.”
The air around them grew heavy, as if the shadows themselves were listening. Death’s voice, hollow and humorless, drifted from the stillness. “Just read, Aurelia.”
A sly smirk tugged at the corner of her mouth, but she let the silence settle as she returned her attention to the journal. “I warned Lumi to stop Erazon from releasing Rhadon, yet in her confusion, she freed him herself. Despite my efforts to guide the Mistwalker—to let him uncover his memories and power in his own time—I fear he now faces a battle he cannot win.”
Aurelia paused, tapping her nails against the edge of the book, frustration simmering beneath her calm expression. “You could’ve stopped them, you know. Saved us all a lot of trouble.”
The flickering candlelight cast shifting patterns along the walls, but Death’s form remained as still as a statue, his skeletal hands draped over the armrests of his chair. He didn’t respond, his gaze fixed on the dark void beyond the sanctuary.
She sighed and returned to the script. “Rhadon has forged another pact with a mortal, draining the life from one of their closest comrades. The power the smith bargained for won’t last. Worse still, Nox is stirring. He might not stop at killing the golden god—he could seize his artifact, or worse. Wild Wizard plans to make the young god his undead servant and use his book to rise among the Nine. The book of the Nine… it’s limitless.”
Her voice dripped with sarcasm as she shot Death a sideways glance. “Lovely. So, not only did you let Rhadon loose, but you handed the book of the Nine to your crazed lieutenant. Truly inspiring, Death. Aren’t you even the slightest bit worried about what Nox or Wild will do with that kind of power? You really left it in his hands?”
The cold weight of his words settled between them, as heavy as the stillness in the air. “The balance, Aurelia. The balance must be maintained. It’s his artifact to control, not mine. Even Nox may not unlock its secrets fully… but with the death scythe, they could turn Arzone into a curse and force him to their will.”
The journal felt heavier in her hands as Aurelia turned another page, the crackling parchment breaking the silence. “For too long, I’ve stayed in the shadows, letting the scales shift as they may… but now, even with my intervention, they’ve tipped dangerously against us. If the Mistwalker falls, the cycle of reincarnation will shatter, magic will wither, and the gods will weaken. Wild may rise to claim a place among the Nine, and the entire world of Ao will spiral into decay and darkness. Life will wither away, leaving behind only grotesque horrors born of despair. The skies will blacken, mortals will perish, and all will be lost. And in the end...”
Her voice faltered, the next words slipping out quietly. “I’ll be left... alone. Again.”
The fire’s glow dimmed slightly, as if sharing her melancholy.
“Alone again, hmm?” she murmured, a rare hint of sympathy edging her tone. “Unfortunate. I suppose that would mean...”
Death’s voice softened, taking on a rare note of gravity. “It would be more than unfortunate. It would be catastrophic—for all of the Nine and the mortal realm alike.”
The journal closed with a soft thud as Aurelia handed it back to him, her expression thoughtful. “So? What’s the plan, then? Are you going to sit here moping, or are we actually going to do something about this?”
He took the journal without a word, placing it carefully on his lap. A long breath rattled from him, like the stirring of ancient winds. “This calamity is too great... I must act.”
A dense stillness settled over the sanctuary as a subtle shift in the air signaled movement. Shadows lengthened across the room, drawn by the towering form of Lord Death as he rose from his chair. Ancient forces stirred in his wake, filling the space with a weight that seemed to press against the very walls. His gaze drifted over the shelves that lined the sanctuary, each artifact pulsing faintly with dormant power. At last, his attention fixed on a black-and-purple crystal, flickering with a tormented glow, like trapped storms raging beneath its surface.
Aurelia’s eyes narrowed as she tracked his gaze, the eerie shimmer of the crystal sparking her curiosity. “That... thing? What are you planning to do with it?”
The cold radiance of the crystal seeped into Death’s skeletal fingers as he grasped it, the ancient energy within stirring to life at his touch. “This will do... but it needs a guardian.”
Aurelia shifted her weight, crossing her arms as she leaned back with a knowing smirk. “And let me guess—that’s where I come in?”
Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.
Without a word, Death stepped forward with deliberate purpose, the shadows swirling and parting in his path. Darkness bent and bowed to him, recoiling from the force of his presence. Aurelia trailed after him, her radiance pushing back the encroaching gloom, casting flickering halos of light around them.
They emerged into a different part of the sanctum, where the colossal statues of the Nine loomed overhead, their stony faces frozen in judgment. The silence was heavy here, like the weight of a thousand unspoken oaths. Death came to a halt before a statue carved in Aurelia’s likeness, every detail of her divine features captured in exquisite stonework.
His skeletal hand rested against the cold marble, tracing the stone face with an unsettling gentleness. “Dear Aurelia, Goddess of all Light,” he whispered, his voice laced with both reverence and mockery. “If she fails to guard my stone, her light will wither to dust and bone. The Nine will falter... and I will stand alone.”
The faintest flicker of something darker crossed his features—a grimace that twisted his face into a terrifying skeletal countenance. “If you fail me, witch, I will not hesitate to unleash my wrath.”
Aurelia tilted her head, rolling her eyes with a faint, amused smile playing on her lips. “Still with the ‘witch’ thing? You know, one day that’s going to backfire on you.”
“I know your secrets.” He grinned wickedly.
She glowed with fierce energy. “I’ll burn even brighter if you call me a witch again,” she said, her voice like the ring of a silver bell, cold and distant. “Calm yourself, I’ll be the guardian.”
“Of course you will, now Lower that infernal glow before I pluck out my own eyes,” Lord Death replied with a dry cackle, unfazed by her threat.
Lord Death extended his arm, presenting the massive crystal that now hummed with dark energy. To him, it was weightless, but its power was immense.
Aurelia’s gaze flicked to the crystal, her lips curling into a sneer. “So.. I guard this and you go to the realm of men. Why do you think this will even work, old man.”
Holding the crystal close, Lord Death’s voice dropped to a grave murmur. “If I do not interfere, the next page of Fate will turn blank... and every page thereafter. If the Nine are to survive, this must be done.”
Aurelia exhaled dramatically, rolling her eyes. “So, let me get this straight—you lost your apprentice, your scythe, and now the world’s about to end? The golden god is loose in the mortal realm with The Book of the Nine, and now our demonic sibling wants it. Fine, fine, I’ll trust you can fix it. But I’m getting something out of this too.” She leveled him with a stern look. “The mortal girl—you better make sure she stays alive.”
The sanctuary groaned under the shifting weight of Death’s presence, the air turning brittle with cold as he extended his skeletal hands over the amethyst crystal. As long as Aurelia’s arm, the crystal seemed to pulse in anticipation, black tendrils of energy coiling within like smoke trapped under glass. Faint faces swirled inside, their silent, agonized screams twisting with every flicker of darkness.
A low hum vibrated through the space as Death began to channel his power. There were no words—only the slow, deliberate flow of his essence into the artifact. It was as if the cosmos itself weighed upon his bony frame, pulling shadows from every corner of the sanctuary. The warmth in the room evaporated, leaving nothing but creeping darkness that seemed to cling to the walls.
The crystal shuddered violently in his grasp, its cold glow flickering with bursts of black lightning. Ghostly figures clawed at the surface from within, desperate to escape their prison. Aurelia’s breath caught, and for the first time, her usual mask of disinterest faltered, replaced by a flicker of dread.
The pressure in the room thickened as Lord Death poured more of his essence into the artifact. Every pulse from the crystal sapped Aurelia’s strength, weighing down her limbs as if the artifact sought to drain the life from her. Her divine light flickered, dim and fragile against the overwhelming force bearing down on them both.
“How much of your power will you take with you?” she asked, her voice cracking against the oppressive silence. The words came smaller than she intended, betraying the fear she tried to suppress.
Death paused, as if calculating the precise amount needed, his hollow gaze distant. “A fraction... no, less. Perhaps a hundredth—that should suffice.”
Her eyebrows lifted in disbelief, the weight of his response unsettling her. “You’re leaving that much behind? Why?”
The crystal throbbed with a sinister brilliance, its vibrations heavy with malevolent intent. The artifact’s proximity gnawed at Aurelia, as though her soul hovered dangerously close to unraveling. She took an instinctive step back, the chill of its energy pressing into her bones.
The darkness surrounding Death swelled, extinguishing every trace of light until only his towering form remained visible. His voice, low and rasping, cut through the gloom. “Any more, and I risk their immediate deaths.”
Aurelia folded her arms, masking her unease with a scowl. “So I just watch over this thing until you get back? What if it explodes? It could ERASE ME—and my entire realm!”
The grim reaper’s chuckle was a deep, rattling sound that reverberated through the shadows. The last of his energy flowed into the crystal, steadying its chaotic glow, though a dangerous hum still radiated from within. “Just keep it safe. Don’t let anyone know it exists. It’s charged now… don’t meddle with it.”
Aurelia hesitated, narrowing her eyes at the crystal. A shimmer of protective magic wrapped around her hand as she cautiously reached for it. The moment her fingers brushed the surface, a biting cold surged through her palm, chilling her to the core. She winced, shifting her grip to avoid the worst of the sting, but even through the magical barrier, the artifact’s energy drained her strength.
She forced a thin smirk, shaking off the discomfort with a show of indifference. “Trust me, I’m putting this thing in The Vault and leaving it the hell alone.”
Lord Death’s tone sharpened, all levity gone. “No. You must keep it with you at all times.”
Her eyes widened in disbelief, and for a brief moment, her aloof demeanor cracked. “You’re not serious.” Her voice dropped to a low murmur, almost to herself. “This thing feels like it could devour me. What if it cracks? What if it breaks?”
Death’s hollow gaze bore into hers, his words deliberate and final. “If it breaks... you won’t need to worry about anything anymore.”
A heavy silence settled between them, punctuated only by the faint, sinister hum of the crystal. The chill in the sanctuary deepened, as if the artifact itself acknowledged the weight of Death’s words.
Cursing under her breath, Aurelia reluctantly slipped the crystal into the folds of her robe, shielding her hand with magic to stave off its energy. Yet even tucked away, it pressed against her like a leaden weight, gnawing at her strength with every second.
Death’s skeletal hands curled into the air before him, his fingers grasping the invisible threads of reality. The very fabric of existence trembled beneath his touch, warping to his will. With a sharp pull, he tore it open, revealing a swirling void beyond—a maelstrom of shadows and lost souls, their whispers swirling like an unholy wind.
He stood there for a moment, his frame towering and still, emanating both authority and quiet sorrow. Without hesitation, he stepped into the breach, his skeletal form swallowed by the swirling void.
“Deathy... be careful.” Aurelia’s voice was quieter now, laced with an uncharacteristic trace of concern.
Without looking back, Death gave the slightest nod, his figure dissolving into the shadows beyond. The tear in reality quivered, then folded shut behind him with a whisper, leaving Aurelia standing alone in the dim sanctuary. The cold weight of the cursed crystal pressed down on her soul, as heavy as the fate she now carried.
She exhaled slowly, glancing down at the cursed crystal hidden within her robe. “I hate this job,” she muttered under her breath, the weight of the artifact pressing heavily on her mind—and her soul.