Our speed through the dark Underworld, only lit up by the cerulean light of Death's Lantern, gradually increases to a full sprint to keep up with Lennox, the living gargoyle. Or is it undead because it's in the Underworld? I don't know. Much of this is confusing and not what we were expecting.
I check behind me constantly to ensure that Johnny is keeping up with us fine, and it appears the temporarily blind man is quickly adapting. He must have some skill related to perception that helps him move because I'd imagine it's impossible to run at a full sprint while blind in both eyes. Or he's just that coordinated to catch himself. It could be either. I see him stumble a few times, but he quickly recovers and keeps going. Looks like it might be both.
While we run to keep up with the gargoyle that is far too fast for the creature's weight, Blake asks her question. We've all gotten at least one off, so it's only fair that she does.
"H-hey, Lennox. How do the dead fight the demons?"
Lennox twists and runs backward for several steps as it skips and claps happily at a question to answer. I can see his face twist in joy despite being made of stone.
"Her Majesty imbues them with her power, Undeath, and returns them to their former strength when they were alive. This gift persists even if the person were to die again, only that their soul is damaged after every death and the subsequent gift of Undeath. Weapons are rare here, though, so only those who can fight without them truly shine. My turn now! Who was the first person you killed?"
Blake seems to have expected this kind of question, and she answers after only a moment or two of thought.
"I killed another for food when I was young. I don't remember his name or his face, though."
Lennox takes this answer gleefully as he skips under the blue light of the lantern like a naive child. Wait… what is he? Is it a he, a she, or an it? Is it even truly alive? I ask that as my next question.
"What are you, Lennox?"
He, I'm just going to call him he, as his voice is a bit more boyish than girlish, claps once more before answering.
"I'm a Stoneclad, of course! My turn now! What is your middle name?"
"Iron. What is a Stoneclad, Lennox? I've never heard of one before."
Lennox gives a high-pitched giggle as he answers my last question.
"Stoneclads like myself are the souls of children who survived the invasion of demons without being devoured. Her Majesty was unwilling to let us fight, but so that we wouldn't slowly fade away without the White Fields Of Comfort, she had Shiloh, the Stoneheart, clad our souls in stone to keep us safe. There are not many of us left, though… it's been… a long time since any more of us were made… My turn now… who is your favorite person in the whole wide world?"
"I'm sorry to hear that, Lennox. I didn't know you were that alone. My favorite person… uhm… would probably be my Ma or Edmund Dudley. I look up to them both, and they are why I'm here."
Johnny picks up at this point as he acquires a question of his own. I'm surprised that he's able to talk and run while blind. But slowly, I grow more acclimated to the things he can do while eternally in the dark.
"Lennox. What happens to the damaged souls when they die? Are they able to die infinitely?"
The question spoken is one that I never even thought of. Being able to die infinitely would be incredible. It would also mean that just about every human ever would be down here, right? But it's possible, right? I mean, it is a God that gives them the gift.
Lennox sounds a bit less cheery now as he speaks, but he still answers.
"They slowly lose who they are. Most can only die once or twice before being turned to shells, only able to instinctually fight. Around three is when most fully fade, their soul dissipating as the mind holding it together breaks. Some can last much longer, but all fade eventually. Her Majesty knew this would happen, though, so she created two murals to remember all those who had fought for eternity. The Heights Of Hope and the Depths Of Depravity. My turn now. What do you see when you look down the barrel of your gun at an enemy?"
Johnny goes quiet for a moment as I watch the colors shift on Lennox's body. He doesn't let this pause go on for too long, though, as he answers after about half a minute or so.
"A target… no… When I look down the sights of a gun, I see more than just a target. I see a moment in time, a memory that will stay with me forever."
My eyes linger on the man as I hear his voice turn sentimental. Johnny has some real attachment to weapons, and it seems that the gunslinger never pulls the trigger lightly. Every person he shoots is burned into his memory. I… I wish I could say the same.
Many of those I've killed I barely even remember the face of. Is that from me not caring about taking a life anymore or because I'm more focused on my own survival? I'm unsure…
Our questions seem to end there as everyone goes quiet. We all just quietly follow Lennox in our silence through the Old Fields. While I think about my own morality, tiredness strikes once more. The novelty and adrenaline of entering the Underworld have started to fade, and in its place has come exhaustion and depression with the ever-consuming darkness. One that I don't think I can push away any longer.
My feet begin to slow, and so do my thoughts. I try to rally my Ether to give me a shot of Indefatigable, but the Ether is stagnant. Almost as if the force of my mind is missing, and what remains cannot move the substance within me adeptly.
The world slowly grows darker as my eyelids close their shutters to my soul. Before everything goes dark, though, I feel the world go out from under me and weightlessness. All that I can do before I crash into the ground is twist so that I don't land on Dakota.
********************
My eyes flutter open to blue light and the sound of fighting. I sit up quickly from wherever I am lying and stand as fast as I can. Sleep still weighs down my eyes heavily, and it feels as though something is stuck in the back of my mind, but I move toward the sounds nearby where the blue light of the lantern comes from.
My steps start off slow but grow in speed as flashes of darkness explode in my eyes and leathery wings flap in my ears out of nowhere. I stop to look around but see nothing in the dark. Unwilling to stay blind in this dark, away from the lantern, I push Ether into my eyes, Nightvision giving me sight. But even with the Ether increasing my view in the dark, I see nothing around me, nothing that might make the sound of leathery wings. The dark spots still exist, however, and I rub my eyes, causing them to disappear.
I just shake my head in confusion. It must have been some kind of dream. Then, I focus on those near the lantern's light. I see phantasmal creatures locked in combat with Otto, Blake, Johnny, and Dakota as Lennox watches from the side. I instantly recognize them as ghosts as I imbue my hand with Whetting and take it one step further for Leash with my dagger in hand. I would use Intervention, but bullets are a limited resource right now.
The first thing I end up doing when I wake up is fighting as I dash straight for a ghost sneaking up behind Dakota. All of these ghosts appear to be primarily opaque figures with a bluish or greenish tint to their skin. All of them are also wearing tattered and worn clothing with bits of colorful skin peeking out here or there. Their eyes are also non-existent, pale flames replacing the eyes in their sockets.
I leap at the one behind Dakota and sink my dagger into its back, which is enhanced by Leash. The Ether around the blade tears through the ghost as it turns around to be with a hellish scream.
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The hair on this one is wild and unkempt, and in place of its eyes are flames burning with pale madness. I go to just take it out of its obvious misery as I rip away with the dagger, making the strand of Ether of Leash tear away as well. This strand of Ether literally cuts the ghosts in half as it fades rapidly, its soul no longer powerful enough to hold it together. Though the sight is odd, unlike what I would expect from a ghost, like when the Bakwa's simply faded into nothing upon death; they fall to the ground before dissipating as they slam into the coarse dirt.
I turn around to help some more, but it seems as though everyone kills the rest of the ghosts while I am dealing with mine. I do get to catch the final glimpse of Blake pulling one inside of herself to bond with. She did lose her old one to catch a bullet for me.
Curiosity does rise at the attack, though. I thought everyone was given this Undeath; how are ghosts here? And why are they attacking us? Apparently, I'm not the only one thinking this, though, as Johnny curses at Lennox.
"I thought you said all souls were fighting the demons with Undeath. Why are there ghosts here that want to kill us?"
Lennox awkwardly twists a bit before answering, almost as if he's embarrassed he didn't mention it before.
"Souls that die a lot and lose cohesion, the Fading, lose their minds and turn partially translucent if they are weak. Anyone but the most hardened in mind will attack anything nearby that has not also lost its cohesion. One final death puts them out for good. My turn! How does it feel to permanently kill someone, giving their soul zero chance of salvation?"
Johnny's face twists as he wipes off the barrel of his gun, which he used to beat ghosts to death with. They weren't extreme, and Johnny is blind, so he dealt with them up close and personal. But that personal touch feels wrong. The Gunfighter seems uncomfortable at the notion of permanent death, and so am I.
"Not good."
These ghosts we just killed were people. And now they are gone forever. That just doesn't sit right. In the corner of my eye, I see Blake shake her head sadly. I think she's thinking about letting go of that spirit. My concern is about something else, though.
"How long was I asleep for, Johnny? Everything kind of looks the same."
I want to know how far we've come and whether or not we are close to finding Edmund or Ma. I feel bad for killing those ghosts, but those two come first and foremost in my mind right now. Johnny twists around rapidly to face me as I notice he's grown quite acclimated to blindness.
"You! I cannot believe you went so long without sleep that your body shut down. Do you know how unhealthy that is!?"
Johnny stomps toward me, but he doesn't seem to be looking at me quite ideally. His open yet blind eyes look over my shoulder.
"You are going to get yourself killed if you keep this up. Either your body will simply drop from exhaustion, or your tiredness will cost you in a fight. You know that we had to feed you the rest of our rations so you wouldn't up and die? That artifact of yours seems to be the only thing keeping you breathing, even if it hates you, but there is a limit."
I try to defend myself with the circumstances, but Johnny is having none of it.
"There was no time! I–"
Johnny crouches just a little bit so that his face is level with mine, even if not perfectly lined up.
"I do not care. This goes for any time, not just in the swamp. You need to take more care of yourself. Have you looked in a mirror, Wyatt? You are pale, skinny, and quite honestly, you look like you are dying. No, you look more like those Fading than you do a living, breathing human. You are covered in scars that perpetually exist in recovery and eyes that are darker than the Underworld. At this rate, Wyatt, I'd give you two more weeks before even your body gives up."
I open my mouth to say something, but nothing comes out.
He's right.
I take too little care of myself. I always go forward without hesitation and trust that I can handle it. And while that's been the case so far, the human body can only withstand so much, and I no longer have the Bloody Palm to put me back together again when I'm torn apart. Well, I guess I do, but it's not interested in helping me at all. It just cares enough to keep itself alive. I know it's planning something, though, and I'll have to watch out for it. Not that I'll tell Johnny it's his fault, though.
Johnny shakes his head and turns around to move back to Lennox, but he leaves me a few words.
"You are tough, Wyatt. Extremely, and anyone who says otherwise is more blind than I. But you are not a God, nor are you inexhaustible. Change how you live soon. Or I guarantee you, you will either die or get a lot of people killed. I will do what I can to help, Wyatt, but I can stop no man from committing suicide."
I am left to myself as he walks back to Lennox with Death's Lantern on his belt. I take a look at myself while he does so. It's hard to see with the meager light that reaches me, but I'm disgusted by what I see.
Every part of me has bones showing through the skin like a recently dead corpse. My fingers are blistered, bloodied, and blackened. My limbs are covered in cuts, either bandaged until the bleeding stops, then the bandage is moved or left alone if it wasn't bad. My torso is wrapped in so many blood pieces of cloth, dressings, and even one part has mud from the swap used as a stopper for blood. My legs are just as fucked up as I finally take a moment to look at them. The last body part I observe is my missing arm. The most prominent example of carelessness is this one from Ether.
That time the Letiche hurt my ankle comes to mind as it looks like a closed fist is jutting out from my foot. And don't even get me started on my feet. The sprints through the swamp left them disfigured and severely damaged. At this point, most of the pain is simply blocked out by my subconscious. But when I redirect my focus to it all, finally, the pain comes back with a vengeance.
My entire body, from my disfigured toes to my bruised skull, throbs with agony as I realize how fucked up I am. Just looking at myself makes me wonder how I'm still alive. There are more bandaged parts of me than unbandaged ones. More blood outside than in. More skin showing from torn clothes than skin hidden by ruined cloth. Only one part of me holds true, and I place my hand on it as I take it off my head. Edmund's hat. I've been conscientious not to get hit in the head, and it shows. It also shows that I can be careful; I must be conscious of it. The hat, while not pristine, is nowhere near as banged up as the rest of me. I wipe off some dirt, grim, and a little bit of blood before limping my way back to the rest of the group.
Dakota trotters behind me as he tries to nudge me, but I have to stop him because just touching my legs almost makes me fall over.
"Later, buddy. That hurts real bad right now."
He whimpers but stays beside me. I'm going to have to take the rest of this trip quite differently. I don't think fighting is an option anymore, or at least how I usually do, if I ever want to recover. If I want to live.
I just slowly follow behind the rest of the group in my pain. I half miss not being able to feel it, but I know it's for the best. Gritting my teeth, I listen to them talk, although I missed the question Lennox is currently answering.
"We should be close to the New Fields by now! The Gate Of Death is close to the edge of the Old Fields. Any minute now should the fires of Undeath appear on the horizon. My turn! What would happen if you stopped trying to learn new skills and focused solely on honing the ones you already have?"
Lennox gives Otto a question that stumps him instantly. The man doesn't know how to answer at all and even stops moving for a second. It's almost as if that possibility never occurred to him. Slowly I limp past him, and that wakes up his thoughts as he speeds up to reach the gargoyle.
"I never thought about that before. I just always followed Marion's lead… I guess I'd become really good at one thing… really good."
Silence reigns for a little longer before Otto spots something in the distance. He has the best eyes out of all of us now that Johnny is blind.
"I see something far away, almost like a… white light?"
Lennox speaks up on his own for the first time without being asked a question. He claps as he gets giddy about whatever is in front of us.
"Yes! Those must be the fires of Undeath! The only flames that can burn in the Underworld are the soul fires within people's eyes. They burn white and can be taken out to use as fuel, as long as it's done before they reach finality."
The notion of using people's eyes as light is disconcerting, but so are most of the things in the Underworld so far. Uncomfortable, odd, or downright weird. From Stoneclads to whatever those murals were called, Heights Of Hope and Depths Of Depravity? Everything is weird. Everything is foreign.
Our pace picks up a bit as I force myself to move a bit faster. Blake does come to help me walk, though, letting me throw an arm over her shoulder as we proceed. I appreciate the help and thank her for it, but we are too focused on what's ahead of us to have a conversation.
We hurry toward the light, and as we near, we notice that it is not one light but instead thousands of white burning fires. Some are put within lanterns at the top of large poles, but many are from the resting undead here.
The New Fields is a vast open area that spans as far as the eye can see. Tents, small buildings, and even one large building of stone exist in the distance. Lennox only briefly described it, but it is far better than the Old Fields. The ground is barren and covered with dry, cracked earth, and there is no sign of life except for the army of soldiers that rest here. The soldiers of Death, the once-dead souls of man who have been granted the gift of Undeath, lay scattered across the fields, their bodies positioned in various poses of rest.
Their eyes lack eyelids and show perpetual white light even as they are sleeping. Heads are tucked as some sit against rocks, and others lie along the floor. None move nearby, and only those by the tents seem to be in motion.
I give Otto and Blake a look as we whisper to Lennox another question.
"What's the difference between those sleeping here and those at the tents?"
Lennox, who has been growing more and more cheerful as we get closer to the undead people, skips as he speaks loudly. None of the undead around us seems to react to his voice, however. It's almost as if they are in stasis, unable to wake unless ordered.
"Those here are Warriors, the lowest rank of the undead with the Gift. These are those who either had no Sigil in life or had only one. Those at the tents are likely Headmen. Those are those who had one rare one or up to three Sigils in life, or Undeath, as you can still advance, only you can't go through a Metamorphosis. So you're locked in the realm you died in. Usually, at least. My turn! What makes you special?"
I just shrug and answer simply before asking another question as we near the tents. None of the undead nearby are moving with us arriving, and Edmund is more likely to be a Headman than a Warrior.
"Nothing really besides exhaustion, I suppose. And cold, I guess. What other ranks are there? Is it built like an army at all?"
Lennox nods as he dances from side to side with a gleeful movement.
"Oooh, so fearless! There are three more ranks. Braves are the next, those who had around four to six Sigils in life or Undeath. Chiefs come next, and they are from five to seven Sigils. Everything is relative to strength, though. So if a 5th Sigil can best 6th's in combat, he will be a chief."
Lennox turns as he makes motions of people fighting with his stony fists. He truly is a child put into stone. Personality and all.
"The last rank is the highest, of which we only have three undead who are still capable of thinking, Supremes. These go from 7th to 9th, once again based on strength. And yes, Death's army is built like an actual army, only that we have two divisions. Hope and Despair. Her Majesty leads the former, and the Devil leads the latter. The former is built off of those who would go into the upper regions from before the war, and the former is of the others that would go to the lower. Oh, look! We're at a Hope station right now!"
Lennox points at a flag atop the nearest tent that is finally recognizable as we get within a hundred feet or so. My eyes are attracted to its intricate craftsmanship even as one of the Headman turns and walks toward us. I notice an oddity as Lennox doesn't ask a question of his own with the undead walking toward us, but I put that in the back of my mind to focus on the flag.
The flag Hope is black with an image of a white skull in the center, surrounded by a wreath of red spider lilies. I briefly wonder where the Cardinal is, and the lilies are down here, but I'm pulled back into the flag. The skull has a single white flame in its left eye socket and a single black flame in its right eye socket. The word "Hope" is written at the top of the flag.
I can feel the emotion written in those words just as I read them. Down here, they are left with nothing but hope, are they not? Hope that if they fight long enough, the demons will lose, and they can return to a peaceful afterlife. One where they slowly fade away in happiness instead of one where they are condemned to fighting until their soul fractures.
It resonates with something deep inside of me. The fight against an inevitable end, just trying to choose your own ending.