Chapter One - Nytkos, the Goddess of Death
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Death and Darkness.
That’s all there was to my life.
The weight of eternity presses down on my shoulders as I stand at the edge of the Obsidian Gate, the boundary between life and the infinite expanse of death. I am Nyktos, the Goddess of Death, shaped in the image of the ancient precursor himself. I command the shadows and guide the departed souls to their rightful resting places in the underworld. I perform this role with a precision that brooks no argument or emotion. Death is order. Death is inevitable.
Beside me stands Zalan, my second-in-command, his keen crimson eyes surveying the scene. Clutched in my hand is Arozos, my scythe, its blade etched with runes of ancient power. The demon eye embedded in the shaft glimmers with an evil light, watching, always watching. Arozos is possessed, a remnant of a bygone era when chaos sought to overthrow order. Now, it serves only me, bound to my will, an extension of my command over death.
"Another soul approaches my lady," Zalan murmurs, his voice a soft echo in the cavernous space.
I nod, my grip tightening on Arozos. The air here is thick with the scent of brimstone and ash, and the skies are a perpetual twilight adorned with stars that have witnessed the rise and fall of countless civilizations. The souls, mere wisps of what they once were, line up, their silvery forms flickering like candle flames in a drafty hall. They wait for me to usher them forward.
"Next," I command, my voice echoing off the walls lined with glowing crystals.
A soul steps forward, or rather, drifts—its essence barely contained. I extend Arozos, the demon eye glaring at the soul, which hesitates under its gaze. This is unusual. They never hesitate.
"What is wrong?" I ask, my tone more curious than concerned. I cannot afford concern. It clouds judgment.
"I... I am not ready," the soul stammers, its form quivering in the air.
Zalan's brow furrows in concern, and he steps closer. "This is most irregular, Nyktos. Shall I investigate?"
I consider his offer but shake my head. "No, Zalan. Stay. This matter requires my attention."
"Not ready?" I repeat, addressing the soul. "Once you reach this realm, readiness ceases to matter. You cannot return."
"Yes, I... I fear I have left too much undone," it whispers.
Annoyance flares within me as I reach out with Arozos to guide the soul through the gate, but a warm force stops me—a sensation alien to my realm. The demon eye on Arozos blinks rapidly, its glow intensifying as if sensing the anomaly.
"Something is wrong," I mutter, feeling the ground tremble beneath us. Whispers echo in the shadows, speaking of a disturbed balance.
Zalan steps forward, his face etched with worry. "My lady, perhaps it is time to consult—"
"Silence!" I cut him off as I command calm among the murmuring souls. They obey, but the warmth lingers in my palm, unsettling me.
I turned to Zalan, my resolve hardening, and began to pace. “I’m not sure what is happening in our Hells, but it doesn’t feel right.”
“Are you the Lady of Death?”
“I am,” I replied to the soul floating merely a few feet away, watching its blue essence change to another color. “Interesting,” I murmured, observing the soul change from blue to a gentle red.
“Nytkos, something isn’t right,” Zalan’s voice muttered beside me.
“Zalan,” I groaned to him, nearly face-palming. “I can see that.”
“Don’t forget who you’re speaking to,” Zalan’s low voice growled to me as his red gaze narrowed.
I took a deep breath—there was so much more to Zalan than just his second-in-command. Shaking my head, I ignored him momentarily before returning to the soul floating a few feet from me. “Tell me, soul, from where do you hail?” I questioned him, crossing my arms.
The soul fluttered in a circle, nearly forming something. “Somewhere special,”
“Nytkos! What is the meaning of this?!” A voice boomed from behind us.
My body tensed as I gripped Azoros even tighter. Then, I turned around to face the loud voice echoing behind me. “Shit, not now,” I muttered quietly to myself as my gaze drifted upward.
“Why has the line of passing come to a halt?” His voice demanded.
“F-Father, I’m working on it!” I called back up to him.
“Do not keep my soul waiting, Nytkos! Get a move on!”
“You need to go now,” I stated back to the soul as I turned to the line of souls coming along today. However, as I faced the line of souls, there was no red soul. What happened to it?
“Where did it go?” I whispered to Zalan.
“It just… Disappeared,” He replied quietly. “Let me help you with the soul judgment, Nytkos. I’m a lot more experienced with it than you are - that way, you can keep Lord Inei happy.”
“How dare you!” I snarled at him, giving him a cold glare.
He didn’t react to my glare; he just stepped forward and began to direct souls as I did. It was true that Zalan had been around a lot longer than I had, but I needed to know where that soul went.
“Get the last souls and close the gates,” I called up to the guardians who stood atop the gate.
“Your majesty, the line is forever!” One of the guards argued.
“Just do it, you shrimp!” Zalan snapped at the guard atop.
“YESSIR!”
I rolled my eyes at how simply they obeyed Zalan. Perhaps it was because where we were in the underworld, the majority of the undead here were other vampires. Sure, I may be the goddess of Death, but Zalan had the power here in Darkmere. They didn’t respect me as much as they did Zalan. It bothered me, but I had so much more duty than to ‘watch over a city in hell.’
Then again, Father made me do so. Father used to look over this city before he abandoned me here and decided he wanted more power - and that’s precisely what he set out to do. He went to take over an entire sector of hell - or so he told me - yet lingered here in Darkmere.
Nytkos, why do you hesitate?
“Huh?” I looked around and realized that Azoros was staring at me with a concerned look in its single demon eye.
Can you please finish this? I’m ready to leave.
“Excuse me?” I gasped, shocked. Azoros always had an attitude problem, always wanting to rush through things. He was bound to me, yet he always had something to do. Demon problems, I guess.
It rolled its eye at me before returning its attention to the souls. The scythe slowly floated out of my hands and hovered above Zalan and me.
“Oh, here we go again, Drama King in the house,” I muttered, huffing as I blew a piece of my long midnight black hair off my shoulder.
“What do you expect? We have things to discuss, Nytkos,” Zalan sighed sarcastically as he held his hand to the souls.
With a flash from Azoros, the souls disappeared, and he forced the gates to close.
“I hate when you do that, Azoros. Everyone deserves a fair chance at the afterlife,” I glared at the scythe.
Oh boo-hoo. It’s not like they didn’t get an afterlife. I’m a Grim Reaper Sytche, Nytkos. I can see their futures whenever I look at a soul.
“Tch,” I muttered, crossing my arms and turning away from him.
The chamber of passage fell silent, the eerie quiet magnified by the sudden, inexplicable judgment Arozos had passed on the lingering soul. The demon eye within the scythe ceased its rapid blinking, settling back into a steady, ominous glow. The soul, now banished to its fate, left a tangible void in its wake. He disappeared into thin air after that - leaving Zalan and me alone.
“I’m not sure Lord Inei will approve of that -”
“I don’t give a damn,” I replied, cutting him off before he could finish his sentence.
“Nytkos, do not speak to me that way,” He warned.
“Zalan,” I groaned and began to turn away from him. “You’re upsetting me.”
“I’m upsetting you, the EMBODIMENT OF DEATH?”
“Damned Vampire,” I muttered.
With that, I felt a cold grip on my shoulder, sending shivers down my spine as I was abruptly pressed against the cold, unyielding wall. Zalan towered over me, his icy fingers maintaining a firm hold on my shoulder as he leaned in close. His voice, a menacing whisper, brushed against my ear, "Keep it up, and I’ll drink that pretty little black blood of yours."
Meeting his gaze, I stared defiantly into those deep crimson-red eyes that seemed to burn with a relentless fire. I taunted him with a mock shudder of fear, "Oh my, whatever shall I do? The little wittle vampire is going to drink me dry."
I noticed a slight blush tint on his pale, almost luminescent skin. This soft pink contrasted starkly against his usual pallor. His arm withdrew from around my neck as he composed himself, his royal demeanor momentarily shaken.
Zalan, the epitome of vampire royalty, stood regally before me. His attire was as striking as his supernatural presence: a tailored coat of black and red that billowed slightly with his every movement, a black vest fitted perfectly over a rich red undershirt that matched the intensity of his eyes. His shaggy blonde hair, tousled yet impeccably styled, framed his chiseled features, enhancing the aristocratic air he carried with absolute authority. Each element of his outfit, from the sharp lines to the vibrant colors, proclaimed his status as a vampire and a prince among the night's creatures.
"We need to talk about what happened," Zalan coughed, dusting the dirt off his coat. With a deft snap of his fingers, he transformed our surroundings into a room that seemed custom-made for nocturnal beings like ourselves. Candles flickered along the walls, casting playful shadows across the room, while a robust fire roared in a grand fireplace on one side. An opulent couch on the opposite side beckoned for deep, secretive conversations.
Yet, the gravity of our discussion called for a far more sacred space. With a knowing nod from Zalan, I followed him deeper into the Citadel, to a place revered and seldom visited—the Halls of Echo.
As we entered, the vast chamber of the Halls of Echo unfolded before us, where the essence of eternity permeated every corner. The walls were draped with shimmering veils that seemed alive, subtly moving as if breathing with the whispers of countless lives they had once touched. These whispers—soft murmurs of sorrow, joy, and redemption—filled the air with an almost tangible presence of the past.
At the chamber's heart lay a large reflecting pool, its waters still and deep. This pool was more than a mere body of water; it was a window to the past, reflecting visions of the world those who gazed into it left behind. It offered a moment of solace to lingering souls, a glimpse into the life they had known.
I paused at the pool's edge, lost momentarily in the reflections. "This place... it always brings perspective," I found myself saying, my voice a whisper barely distinguishable from the veils'.
Zalan joined me, his gaze fixed on the mysterious depths of the pool. "Indeed, it does. And today, more than any other, we need that perspective to unravel the peculiar events unfolding around us."
Standing there, surrounded by the echoes of a thousand souls in the heart of our timeless Citadel, we braced ourselves to delve into the mysteries that had compelled our urgent meeting.
What could have happened today, and why haven’t I seen it all my years as a Harbinger?
Nyktos, The Goddess of Death
