Page 59 of Death Will Follow

Nova leaned close to the final casket. There, clutched in the carved hand of the elven likeness, was a shard of her father’s broken sword. As soon as her eyes fell upon the blade, a desperate need to hold it consumed her, and she hastily set the lantern on top of the cover. For an instant, she hesitated, her hand hovering a breath away as she considered the sprite’s warning. Steeling herself, she pressed her lips together.

It’s mine by birthright, a low, sneering voice whispered in the back of her mind.

Nova shook her head against the voice, a mimicry of her own, at once familiar and entirely foreign. Gathering her resolve, she gripped the blade.

Pain blossomed in her hand, oozing along her fingers to her palm and then her wrist, like she’d dipped her hand in a pot of scalding water. Her chest seized at the blinding sting. Though she tugged with all her strength, the blade refused to budge. Adding her other hand, she pulled once more, bending her knees and leaning back for leverage. Sweat beaded on her upper lip, and she clenched her jaw so tightly, she feared her teeth might crack. Just as the pain nearly grew unbearable, the blade came loose, and Nova fell backward, landing on the mossy floor with a muted thud.

She struggled to release her hold on the blade as she had in Tundara, but she finally managed to pry it from her fingers, securing the fragment within her pouch. Drained, she lay flat on her back for a moment, arms spread wide and chest heaving, when suddenly, over the sound of her ragged breaths came the unmistakable grinding of stone.

Nova held back a gasp, clapping a hand over her mouth and silently scrambling into a low crouch. Taking up the lantern once again, she waited, counting the rapid beats of her heart. A few moments passed with no other noise. Cautiously, Nova stood, extending the lantern to inspect the stone caskets once more. The lid covering the one farthest from her sat ajar with four bony fingers, shriveled flesh still clinging to them, curled around the edge. The grinding noise sliced through the quiet once again, and she watched as the decaying hand forced the stone cover open further.

Nova backed away, glancing to the doorway from which she’d entered the burial chamber, now on the opposite side of the great room, with the three caskets blocking her path. The grating sound of stone on stone came again, and a second hand emerged through the opening, joining the first in its task of dislodging the lid. When the slab covering the second grave groaned open as well, she spun around and sprinted through the nearest arch, no notion of where it led or what horror might lurk within.

The light of the blue flame bounced off the low ceiling as she raced along a narrow corridor. When the passageway angled left sharply, Nova barely made the turn. Wet moss carpeted the floor, softening the sound of her footsteps but causing her to slip every few strides. As she grappled along the walls to keep herself upright, she struck the lantern against a stone. The glass shattered, and the flame went out, leaving her in complete darkness.

Nova continued to move, though at a snail’s pace, bracing herself on the walls and shuffling her feet over the uneven floor. A sharp cry, like that of a hawk, rang out behind her, echoing in the burial chamber. Fear flooded her veins, and she increased her pace, no longer concerned with catching her toes on lumps of sodden moss or raised stones. A moment later, the passageway widened enough that she could stretch her arms fully from one side to the other; it seemed she’d stumbled upon an alcove. Backing into the recess, she pressed herself against the cold stone and fought to catch her breath.

Trying to remain silent while desperate for air was an unbearable task. Nova went rigid, her breath halting all together, when the same cry assaulted her ears again, louder. Closer. The creature had entered the passageway behind her.

Without the lantern, she was sightless, her vision unable to adjust to the utter darkness. Nova closed her eyes, one hand reaching into the pouch at her hip and fumbling for her moonstone. Once she closed her fingers around the charm, she yanked it out, wary of touching the Kinslayer shard. In her haste, the stone flew from her trembling fingers and landed on a bed of moss, bathing the corridor in pale light.

Fear cut through her like ice water in her veins, and she dropped to her knees, quickly snuffing out the moonstone’s light beneath her cupped hand. In the instant before the corridor went dark, she saw it: a horrid creature that had once been an elf haunting the tunnel like a wraith. The flash of the moonstone should have been her death sentence. She braced herself, expecting the creature to descend upon her any second. But a moment passed with no attack, and the creature continued to move along the passageway with slow, shuffling steps, emitting an eerie chirping sound every so often.

Perhaps it didn’t see me, she thought. Didn’t see the light.

Fighting every instinct warning against it, Nova lifted her hand, allowing a sliver of silvery light into the space. She bit her lips against a gasp. The once-elf stood mere strides away. She pressed her cupped hand to the ground once more, releasing a shuddering breath. When, again, the creature didn’t immediately come for her, Nova tested the theory, lifting her hand a second time.

The creature took two halting steps toward her, then paused, head cocked unnaturally to one side.

Listening.

Long, stringy hair clung to what was little more than a skull. While some grayed, decaying tissue remained intact across the forehead and cheekbones, the nose was completely gone. Its eyes, sunken in their sockets, looked much like a moonstone. Cloudy and unseeing. A tarnished headdress crowned with dull gemstones sat upon its head. Nova flinched as the creature resumed its creeping pace, one arm stretched out in front of it, bony fingers reaching into the darkness.

It can’t see me.

Slowly, Nova rose to her feet, retreating into the alcove and pressing her back flush against the damp wall. She looped the silver chain around her neck and clutched the moonstone in her fist, allowing only a bit of its glow to escape her grasp through a crack between her fingers. Silently, she waited, counting each frantic beat of her heart, the uncanny chirping growing ever closer. At last, the creature entered her field of vision as it passed her hiding spot. Nova closed her eyes and prayed that the wraith wouldn’t hear the thundering of her heart.

The thing took no notice of her as it slowly shuffled along the stone corridor. Nova turned her face away from it and held her breath, nose wrinkling in disgust. The stench of decaying flesh and musty robes was enough to summon bile at the back of her throat.

When the once-elf had cleared the alcove by several strides, Nova slipped soundlessly into the passageway, hurrying back toward the main chamber. As she reached the sharp bend once again, another piercing cry echoed in the yawning darkness behind her. Instinct took hold, and she broke out into a run, the moonstone’s pale glow glancing off the walls as the pendant swayed across her chest.

The archway leading to the burial chamber came into view, a black void standing on the other side of the opening. Pumping her arms, Nova sprinted for the doorway, an icy sensation creeping up the back of her neck: fear that the creature was right behind her, bony fingers a hairsbreadth from grabbing her. As she passed through the opening into the main chamber, her toe caught on the edge of a raised stone, and she crashed to the floor, striking her forehead on the base of one of the stone slabs.

Shaking off the pain rattling her skull, Nova rolled onto her backside in time to see two more once-elves rushing toward her. They moved much faster than the other one had. She supposed she’d made enough noise to lead them straight to her. Scrambling backward over the wet ground, she got her feet underneath her. Nova drew her sword and slashed in a wide arc, forcing the creatures to halt their advance. One let out a piercing shriek, and Nova fought the urge to cower and clap her hands over her ears.

They resumed their pursuit, edging her back, her boots splashing in the water pooled on the chamber floor, the sound giving away her position. Nova shot a quick glance over her shoulder, searching for her best means of escape. One of the wraiths charged her, a bony arm draped in putrid flesh reaching out, eerie clicks and chirps rattling in its throat. Skeletal fingers nearly grasped her arm, but she twisted out of reach, thrusting her sword through the thing’s tattered robes and into its chest. Without muscle or sinew to slow it, her blade sailed through with no resistance, and Nova found herself much closer to the creature than she’d intended.

Drawing her sword from the empty rib cage, Nova spun on her heel, running for another darkened archway along the far wall. As she neared it, the crowned wraith emerged from the blackness, looming over her. Nova stopped short before stumbling backward. The two other creatures grabbed her from behind, tightening what remained of their fingers around her arms and dragging her to the ground. Cold water drenched her cloak as the once-elves pinned her down, one on either side of her while the third made a slow approach.

Her thoughts raced. Only, it was not the life she had lived passing before her eyes in an instant, but the future she would never have. Her mind taunted her with a lifetime of moments she and Callan would never experience. Incredible sights they would never see. Younglings they would never share.

There would be no fire. No smoke to carry her soul to the After Realm. Just an eternity of slow decay in a puddle in an underground tomb. As she struggled against the creatures’ surprising strength, she recalled the sprite’s final warning, and a delirious laugh nearly spilled from her lips.

I suppose this is what I get for disturbing their rest.

Nova stared into the opaque, unseeing eyes of the crowned wraith who had lowered itself to kneel before her. Slowly, the creature crawled along her body, its head cocking jerkily from side to side, those odd chirping noises resonating in its throat. For an instant, Nova ceased to struggle.

Cursed souls.