I sat on my ass, against the wall of the tomb and cursed my luck. My first mission out for the Order and I've done nothing but get hurt. If it hadn't been for the Scythe somehow healing me slowly, I'd probably be dead. It didn't heal me like the ambrosia stuff did either; the Scythe's magic slowly pulled everything back together, keeping me alive, but in rough shape.

Suddenly, the sounds of battle drew my attention down the hall. I hadn't anticipated this being a trap, but Erik had thought it was likely. Again, the team had gone to battle and I was on the sidelines.

I couldn't help but feel useless, as I lay against the wall, like a wet noodle.

"Damn it, they need me." I muttered to no one in particular. I threw myself forward and decided I would just crawl on my arms down the long catacomb hallways. I stopped after a few feet of rough gravel and stones stuck in my arms.

"Fuck." I cursed, looking around for something to prop me up. The halls were woefully empty. I couldn't see what was happening, but I heard the sounds of battle echoing down the deep tunnel. There was a sound like a concussive wave and then talking.

"Oh, maybe they didn't need me after all." I said to myself, slowly crawling back to the wall. I used Death's Scythe in its stick form to slowly pull myself along the floor.

I stopped dead in my tracks when I heard Amelia shriek, moments later. My impulse was to run to her. I made the Scythe grow to its full form, and used it as a crutch to pull myself up against the wall. I stumbled forward, moving to the corner, with my legs threatening to buckle beneath me.

"Come on, work!" I yelled at my useless appendages. Between the wall and the Scythe, I was able to slowly slide myself down the hall. Each step was agonizing. I didn't like the sensation of not having full control over my own body.

The mournful cries of my companions was followed by more combat. I heard a gun go off, the noise reverberating down the wall to meet me.

"No, no, no." I tried to move faster, but I tripped up on my own foot and went down hard.

I hadn't known these guys for very long, and they had a lot of issues. But despite all those issues, they had welcomed me in and treated me as one of their own. In a time when I had no one. I had to make it down there.

I was surprised when I saw Alma drifting up the darkness of the tunnel to meet me. Her red eyes materialized first, then the wispy rest of her.

"You gotta help me get down there, my friends are in trouble." I told her, panicked.

"I know." She said sadly. She looked down at me like I was some pathetic thing. She began drifting off down the hallway.

"Wait!" I called after her. I understood in the moment why she was there, and I tried to crawl my way down the catacomb tunnels.

"No, stop!" I shouted down after her as I watched her disappear from view. Alma was here for one of them; someone had died. My mind spun thinking about who it could have been. If Amelia was the one screaming, it was likely Orion or Ethan.

I stared at the Scythe in my hands, trying to will it to do something, anything, to get me down there. Nothing happened.

Oh how I wished for a more useful Artifact in that moment. What I would have given to have Orion's winged shoes or Mjolnir. I'd even settle for a magic carpet. Instead, I laid there in the dirt with my Death Stick.

"Fuuuuck!" I shouted. My own echo screamed back at me, mocking me.

When I saw Alma return, I propped myself up against the wall again. I waved my Scythe at her to get her to stop, as she floated by. The ghost that trailed along behind her like a lost puppy, was Ethan.

"Ah shit." I said, looking them both over.

"Dyson, I have to get him to the Otherside now. I'll come back to chat later." Alma told me.

"Hold on! Wait. Can I at least say goodbye?" I said, my brain scrambled at seeing the ghost of my friend. Poor Ethan. He was the last person I thought would have ended up dead. He was good at his training, but he was stubborn and tended to rush head first into things. I supposed this was the case here.

This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

"Ethan..." I said, reaching out. The distracted ghost spun in the air and looked down at me.

"Oh, hey man!" Didn't see ya down there." He said cheerfully. There was a sadness to his face, but he was still himself.

"I'm sorry this happened to you. Is everyone else okay?" I asked. Ethan shrugged.

"Gods, I hope so. That Demi-God guy got me good." He said, reaching down to touch his chest absently.

Alma tugged on Ethan's ghost sleeve, motioning with her head that it was time to go. Ethan nodded and looked back down at me.

"Sorry man, wish I could stay and chat, but I gotta go." He said sadly. I looked at Alma with pleading eyes.

"There has to be something you can do? Can't you just put his soul back in his body?" I asked, practically begging.

Alma became flushed, if that was even possible for a Reaper. Her eyes narrowed as she looked me over, like the idea was preposterous.

"Dyson, you know it doesn't work like that." She said slowly. She rubbed her arm like she was uncomfortable.

"But he can't just be gone. He's still young and he has to be there for his sister. The team needs him." I could feel myself getting choked up, which was strange. While Ethan was my friend, I hadn't particularly formed a bond with him. But he was part of my new found family. And he was Amelia's brother.

"I don't make the rules Dyson. I just follow them. I'm only the ferry between realities. I get no say in who stays and who goes." She tried to grab Ethan again, who looked torn between following Alma's directions and wanting to stay with me.

"Well then let me talk to your manager." I said sarcastically. Alma sighed and grabbed her temples.

"Dyson please, you are making it much harder than it needs to be. Say goodbye Ethan." She said, grabbing Ethan's arm again and pulling him along.

"Goodbye I guess." Ethan waved, floating off behind Alma. I watched as, ahead of her, the Veil parted, like a spectral curtain pulling back. The Otherside looked just like this side. Except it was covered in grey fog and the lights were all red and inverted.

I tried to use the wall and the Scythe to stand again, scrambling desperately to my feet. My kneecaps held a little better this time. I scuffled forward, leaning heavily against the Scythe, its wicked blade glinting in the torchlight.

"Stop, please. Don't take my friend." I begged, shambling forward, my hood over my head.

"Dyson, this is not worth hurting yourself over." Alma scolded. "Stop this foolishness."

I watched as her eyes darted between me and the split in the Veil. I also noticed that Ethan had entirely stopped moving. He just kinda floated there, confused. His eyes were vacant and stared out at me, like the zombies on Siobhan's boat.

My next idea was not a bright one, but a desperate one.

"Ethan, come here." I said, clutching Death's Scythe closely, using it to hold myself up. I felt the tug of magic surge through myself and into the Scythe, and then I felt the Scythe make my words a command.

Ethan's ghost floated over to me, and Alma stared at me, wide-eyed.

"No, he must come with me. It is his time and this is my job." Alma said, frustrated. She moved back and grabbed Ethan's ghost, shoving him toward the Otherside.

I felt my powers tug back at Ethan, drawing him back to me. His ghost stood by my side, dazed, while the Scythe controlled him.

"I'm sorry, but I'm not letting you take him from us. Not this one. Not this time." I turned to hobble down the hallway, hunched over and using the Scythe like a walking stick. Ethan's ghost followed beside me, as I tried to get him back to his body. I could still here the others, so they couldn't be that far.

"Unacceptable!" Alma's word was like a banshee shriek. It knocked me over, and freed Ethan's ghost from my grasp. He stood, confused, looking between us.

"This is not a game, Dyson Weiss! Just because you were somehow saved from the grasp of Death and stretched between the Veil does not mean you get to dictate who lives and dies. Ethan has passed on, he is coming with me. I can waste no more time on this!" Alma said, her shoulders raising and lowering heavily as she glowered at me with her red eyes.

She moved closer to the Veil, with Ethan, again, in tow. She went to move through it, and suddenly stopped.

I laid in the dirt, one hand on the Scythe, the other outstretched toward her.

"Alma, stop!" I called out, using the power of Death's Scythe once more. I had no idea if it would work on a Reaper, or if she was even remotely the same kind of thing as a spirit.

She spun on me, hatred painted across her face. I swallowed hard, wondering where I had found the balls to try.

"Let me go." It was not a request, but a demand. I had never seen her show so much emotion before.

I did what I could to seperate her and Ethan, but I could feel her working against the force of the Scythe.

There was a sudden popping noise, and Ethan's ghost was gone. My control over him with the Scythe was gone, and so I released my hold on Alma as well. I pushed myself up onto my elbows and looked at her.

Alma's face went through a range of emotions, from shock to anger and then betrayal. She shook her head, as she stared at me, unblinking.

She lifted her arm, and for a moment, I thought I was going to die. But she swept it over herself, as she turned into a porcelain crow, her six red eyes all still staring at me.

Alma hovered for a moment, as if to make sure that I saw that she was more than she appeared, before diving into the Veil and disappearing, the tear closing behind her.

I sighed heavily, wondering if I had burnt the only bridge I had, connecting me to the world of the dead. At the very least, I thought, the Rabbi could help me back at the Cathedral.

That was when Erik showed up, looking like he was able to vomit and pass out. He opened his mouth to speak, but we both froze as a brilliant beam of light lit up the entire catacomb, just behind us.