Hunter stood still apart from his fingers which moved and formed odd shapes. As Jack started to sneak towards the old man, Hunter jumped, screamed and gasped. Jack stumbled back and put his dagger up to Hunter’s neck.

“Where are you?! Who are you?! What is this?!”

“I’m here. You just came out of the damn vision.” Jack sheathed the dagger and held the old man’s shoulder.

Hunter pushed the hand off. “Did you get it?!” He grabbed Jack.

“I got the urn... It... disappeared when I came back though.” Jack realized.

Hunter furrowed his brow and shook Jack harder. “It disappeared?! What do you mean it disappeared!?”

From the pushing and shaking, Jack fell and cried out -- there was a sharp crystal an inch off where his head landed.

The old man loomed over, breathing like a steed in a race. He was full of frustration.

I know that feeling -- blind and unable to see how things really are, apart from all the ones that frustrate.

Jack moved his hand slowly-- he slammed it into his pocket and took out the paper.

“What about this?” he said, realizing it had come with him to reality.

Hunter’s brow furrowed while he read.

“Sure, sure.” His face glowed and he gave Jack a hand.

Close call with… I don’t know what, but better not to anyways…

“You got a paper as well?”

Shaking his head, Hunter handed Jack an arrow.

Curious, Jack turned and spun it around, observing from all angles. On the rusted tip, a few words were engraved in the tongue of the dead.

“So we return from these visions holding things with commands,” Jack thought out loud.

Hunter snatched the arrow back. “You’re right.”

“And then you conjure the cups’ power by speaking the commands?”

“Smart boy.” Hunter snarled.

The whooshing in the fog muted, the constant trail of crimson dust stopped, the black fog thickened and the water darkened. Most importantly, something rumbled in the mist. A streak of white smoke shot out and evaporated in a moment.

“Everia’s servants?” Jack murmured while Hunter clenched his fists.

“They were closer than I thought they were! I hold them off and you finish business with the last cup!”

Alright, everything’s on me, Jack nodded and walked over to the last altar. Taking a deep breath, he grabbed the cup and chugged it down with closed eyes. Sounds distorted in his ears and a weightlessness came over his legs.

When he opened his eyes, everything was white. He blinked.

Around him was a cave-like room and under him was tight bed. The bed was a coffin and his body wasn’t his own -- his skin was pale and his clothes were rags.

Jack sat up, feeling familiarity and an incomprehensible voice in the back of his mind.

He was a deadman.

***

As the rush of curiosity wore off, Jack clambered out of the coffin. No playing around now.

Obviously, the thing I need isn’t here. Or, doesn’t seem like it. Gotta get out of this place as fast as possible and find that thing somewhere.

I should probably search for the urn as the paper was under it the last time so it should be there again.

The ground began to shake.

Oh, I’ve been here, Jack thought, eyes wide and jumped into a narrow tunnel in front.

The room’s floor opened and the coffin fell in.

I guess once you get buried in the cemetery above, you wake up in one of these rooms.

Using every second he had, Jack crawled as fast as he could, the tunnel’s sharp edges tearing at his sides. He’d experienced this before so he could ignore the constant flashes of pain and claustrophobia.

The tunnel came to an end, morphing into a staircase. He climbed to the top and light washed over him.

The chamber was massive, full of marble statues, arching architecture and--most importantly--endless deadmen. Hanging torches and crystals lit the whole place, while dark pits in the floors and walls gave it an eerie contrast.

The Grandest Chapter? a thought came to Jack. The place beyond the Sea of Gallows from where the powers that be ruled?

Not a single dead attacked or even gave him a look. The creatures all moved in seperate directions, always perfectly avoiding bumping into one another.

Jack calmed himself and the panic he’d learned to have once he saw deadmen. He’d remain safe surrounded by enemies. He just needed to worry about finding a needle in a haystack.

Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

Jack merged with the crowd of the dead and found himself surprised -- they spoke with one another--like normal people going about their day’s business--and… he could understand their words. They spoke in their tongue of death, but that wasn’t a problem for Jack. Sure, during his journey down the Hall of Ceremony, he learnt fragments of the language, but now this vision gave him complete knowledge over it.

From their words he could connect that, indeed, he’d ended up in the Grandest Chapter, during the peak of the powers that be reign. Every single dead served a purpose, either expanding the Hall of Ceremony, giving themselves over to be drawn for power, or somehow else helping their masters.

All this time Jack had wanted to explore this place and learn all of its secrets, but now that they were in front of him, he had to put them aside, fight his curiosity and find the urn.

Bigger things are at play than me…

The Grandest Chapter’s chambers stretched on for long, convoluted and confusing

How the hell am I going to find the urn in a few damn minutes?! he thought. Luckily, awful circumstances made him think the fastest -- dozens of ideas came and went in moments.

One managed to stick.

I could do that, but it doesn’t seem like it’ll work, Jack quickly debated himself. Or maybe it surely would? It’ll only be clear once I try.

Ah, better figure something else out, he dismissed it, but, a moment later, came back.

He grabbed a deadman near himself. Screw it -- let’s do it.

“What am I saying?”

The pale creature in a farmer’s outfit tried to shake out of Jack’s grip, but Jack held the deadman tightly.

“You were saying something to me?” the dead spoke after a moment.

“Good, good.” Jack was astonished that it worked and hopeful again. “Quick -- where’s the urn?”

“The urn?” The man squirmed. “I don’t know anything about a damn urn.”

“Come on, there has to be someone who does!”

The deadman wiggled and tried harder to get out. “Ask the powers!” He growled, freeing his hand from Jack. Jack grabbed it again and pushed his nails in..

“Where?!”

The pale dead broke into an eerie laughter that attracted everyone’s attention, and beat Jack’s chest.

He let go, waved his fist and… stopped mid-punch.

The deadman pointed, his gaze locked on something far away. Jack moved to take a look, staying careful.

Past the sea of other deadmen who all stared at him, past the Hall’s massive statues and arching entrances that led to tunnels and depths of darkness, stood a familiar face. Its skin was a deep brown, but wasn’t Hunter’s.

“The Gatekeeper?”

“Behind him.”

The Gatekeeper kept his back to a massive entrance into darkness, guarding it.

Can’t be sure if that’s where I need to go, but I can’t sit around and wait to be…

Jack started trudging through the almost endless crowds of deads. After a moment, he quickened his pace. He couldn’t check the time left, but he guessed--

For a flash, his body lost all weight. A moment later, the feeling disappeared. Jack gulped then spun around. From the edges of the Hall of Ceremony and from dark corners, massive spirals of white void appeared. Time had run out.

Jack was ready to fall to his knees, having failed, but instead, picked up his pace and ran. All the deads started to run as well, after him.

***

He slid to a halt and turned around. All the routes he could’ve taken filled with endless deadmen.

I gotta get to the Gatekeeper, but there’s not a single way there! he thought. I’m trapped!

Jack cursed under his breath then let his muscles do their trick, trying his luck. He jumped and grabbed on to a marble hand, steadied and started climbing up a statue of a cloaked man.

Deadmen filled the tiny clearing under him while the white void neared from every direction.

I can still beat it!

Jack grunted, finishing pushing himself up. The statue swayed a little. He stretched his arms to balance.

Up here, away from their grip... what the hell am I gonna do?

Without hesitating, Jack jumped, his heart dropping as he soared through the air. His hands grabbed onto the shoulders of another statue, slipped, but his nails pushed themselves into the marble. The nails cracked in half and Jack moaned from the pain, but managed to get a good grip.

From above, the crowd of deadmen looked similar to a losing army in the midst of battle. They tried crawling on top of one another and scaling the statue, but their deteriorated bodies worked slowly.

Jack jumped to the last statue -- a half-destroyed monument to a bearded man with a hat.

The neck of the statue cracked and rolled down, bringing Jack with it.

Jack flailed his arms, momentarily trying to stop himself.

The marble head crashed below, turning a dozen deadmen into red dust.

A second before that, Jack landed on the statue’s arm and whooped.

Never understood how some heroes never cheered surviving a close call with death. Doesn’t matter that its your fiftieth -- you survived!

Jack hopped off before he could fall into the grips of the deads.

The arm he’d stood on broke and the statue crumbled, forming a cloud of dust.

He landed in a convenient clearing, rolling to break his fall. Bolts of adrenaline shot through his veins, he dashed past the masses of creatures and pushed some from his way.

Having that pistol and dagger would be pretty great right now!

Finally, he reached the small stairway which led to dark passage in the wall. The Keeper atop the stairs gazed down at Jack.

There’s got to be something more here, or else I wasted everything! Jack thought, checking over his shoulder.

The spirals void had engulfed most of the vision and almost reached him.

He turned to the Gatekeeper as the dead’s hand landed on his chest.

“We meet again,” the Keeper said in a deep voice.

“Where’s the urn-- what? You can see the future? You can see past this disguise?” Jack stumbled

“I protect the gates even as evil surrounds me and even knowing more will. Understand, Jack, this is a duty I shall follow, unlike you know who, and until you know when. Don’t ask me any questions -- you’re running out of time. Hand me the Medallion of the Powers That Be, the Amulet of the Men Who Are Free and the Trophy of the Fighters Who See and you shall pass; you shall learn all you need to.”

No time for that! Jack tried to run past.

The Gatekeeper mimicked his moves and stood ground like a rock.

“You know damn well that we gave you those things and fought you already! Just let me pass.”

“I follow my duties. You don’t have what I desire so you don’t pass. And no, I didn’t get those things from you neither did I fight. I only will,” the Gatekeeper said bluntly.

“Let me pass, I need the urn!” Jack said bluntly himself. “Else something truly awful will happen!”

“I know,” the Keeper spoke. “Although saving you from the consequences of your failures is not my duty.”

Jack raised his fists.

I fought you once, I’ll fight you again!

The Keeper strided forward and… went around Jack, into the crowd. The thousands of deads turned away and faced the void that overwhelmed the Hall of Ceremony. It ate up the massive crowd and reality behind Jack.

His jaw dropped and he ran into the darkness the Keeper no longer guarded.