A whirlpool of sensations pervaded Azrael, hurtling through a space he was unacquainted with. A swirl of obsidian and dainty silver, streaked the atmosphere, caressing his senses with apprehension and unease, as he ventured into an unknown, daunting path.

  A gust of wind evicted him out the murkiness, replacing it with a starlit skyline, drenched in waves of aural green and purple, smudged across the horizon. The new vista whisked his breath away, panning the new world with unadorned curiosity.

  In a surreal paradox, a part of him thought he had transcended to the heavens, soaring through the sky like a celestial being, defying the laws of nature. It was as if he had become an arrow, hurtling through the boundless expanse, experiencing an otherworldly freedom that clashed with the earthly constraints he once knew.

  Clasping a palm over his mouth, tears touched his cupped hand. Streams of unadulterated awe left him winded, basking in the glory of a world he had never imagined would exist. Not a dash of grey was present in the space he ascended through, marvelling at the miracle he had stumbled upon.

  The one question that remained in his wonder glazed voyeurism was: What’d happened?

  Despite the torment inflicted by Mol’okh in prison, he couldn’t help but test the limits of his own body. He wiggled his remaining fingers and toes, expecting to find only a fraction of what he once had.

  To his disbelief, he discovered he possessed more digits than he thought he was left with, as he studied his hands and legs. The maggots were gone, his hands and feet were whole once again. It was a miracle he never imagined likely. A horde of emotions poured down his face, mingling with the snot running down his philtrum that traced his trembling lips.

  A quiet one, aren’t you? An ancient and powerful voice thundered through the skies. Let’s hear your persuasive overture that’ll win me over. Otherwise take solace of the world around you and fall to eternal oblivion.

  On command, the redhead’s ascend came to an abrupt halt, stopping him mid-air.

  “Huh?” managed a puzzled Azrael, turning about in search of the voice. “What is all this?” His feet dangled off nothingness, and yet he wasn’t sinking.

  Do you not know? I suppose you weren’t made aware of where you are before you reach this place. Heaving a sigh, the voice forged on. You stand on the precipice of death. I am your reaper and also your salvation. Persuade me with your desires, goals, aspirations, regrets and so on and so forth, to continue living. Lest you earn my ire, you shalt fall.

  Stroking his chin, Azrael ceased his search for the voice, taking a breath to weigh the choices he had been given. “Death?” he said, in a contemplative note, gripping his throat. “After everything I had been through, I’d sought the solace of death and now I have a chance to grasp it.”

  A tempting notion, aye. Choose death and you’ll fall to rubble, cementing a path for your successor to tread upon, given the same offer as you, and one day reach my prize.

  “I had persisted for an eternity on the path of anguish,” said Azrael. Physical prowess alone served no purpose. Stella had a mountain of a frame and yet she couldn’t oppose those apparitions. There has got to be something more this world has to offer, a hidden layer of contrived secrets that will unveil true strength.

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

  Silence hung heavy in the air. Azrael blinked a couple of times, filling the disquiet with a twitter of opening and closing lids.

  Speak your words through your tongue, so I can hear your thoughts out loud, came a displeased rumble. Unlike the words I transmit to your mind, I cannot hear your thoughts, and I hate to be left in the dark.

  His feet dropped, plummeting down like he carried deadweight, in accordance with the voice’s demands.

  Flailing his arms, Azrael couldn’t help but scream. He had no understanding of the mechanics governing his current reality, as he came to a sudden halt. Heaving a relieved sigh, he loosened heavy breaths.

  “I was thinking,” he continued, past his pounding pulse. “What does it mean, to truly be strong? If I am to make my dreams a reality, I need strength but not the sort I had sought out initially. Armouring my body with muscles was nothing more than a farce, especially against an opponent like Mol’okh. It’s not just vengeance I seek. I…”

  He froze in place, his breath steadying. An epiphany lit up his consciousness, awakening a portion of his mind he hadn’t ever acknowledged.

  “What I want is the strength to forge my own path.” The redhead heaved a sigh, his words fuelling a furnace pounding a fiery blade steeped in conviction.

  Is that so? asked the voice. The stars and skies above him began to spin and swirl, as if the very crux of reality was being reshaped. Emerging from the celestial canvas, an otherworldly snout extended, encompassing the horizon. From its depths, twin orbs of moonlight emerged, piercing through the darkness, locking eyes with Azrael. The luminous orbs held a profound wisdom, peering into the very depths of his soul.

  Locked in an intimate gaze with the moonlit spheres, he felt a strange mixture of vulnerability and vigour. It was like his entire existence was laid bare before a cosmic presence. His every secret, every fear and every hope were drawn out.

  Despite the so called ‘suffering’ you’ve endured, you wish to continue living?

  “I have shouldered a lifetime of torment.” The redhead chuckled in spite of his situation, spreading his arms out. “Perhaps I’m destined to live several lifetimes in a single stretch.”

  Is that so?

  The elongated snout tapped against Azrael, threatening him with an ethereal force that left him quaking. He realised his end was at hand, spilling his mind to a creature beyond comprehension was no doubt, questionable. Despite craving an end for the longest while, in that moment he wasn’t ready to relinquish the chance fate had conceded him. He sought to earn the favour of the voice echoing in his mind, even if it meant he must endure torment that dwarfed the hell he had already suffered.

  The snout cracked in half, revealing puffs of smoke curling off the corners of starlit lips. An ancient, deep chortle resounded within the confines of Azrael’s mind, tearing through the heavens, brimming with mirth. I’ve bartered with insane mortals before, but never have I heard such profound insane sanity roll off the tongue of one so young. Very well hatchling, tell me your name and I shalt tell you mine, as our first order of business.

  “Azrael.”

  Interesting. The moonlit orbs blinked in amusement, viewing the redhead with newfound intrigue. Azrael, is it? You can call me Requiem. I’ll lend you my power and in turn, you’ll be my anchor. Once we agree on the pact, you’ll lose your humanity and become the living dead. Or the dead living. One of them should hit the mark.

  “I’m sorry, a what!?”

  Since you are here, you’re either dead or on the verge of it. Once I bequeath my strength to you, you’ll need a little something called death energy to replenish my power each time you use it. Of course, you could stock it up in bulk too!

  “What do you mean by death energy?”

  Energy from cadavers. Preferably human but a demon would suffice too. Just make sure whatever it is, it is dead. Try and keep track of the bodies you use, otherwise you’ll end up one yourself. And don’t forget to convert the death energy to miasma. Also, make sure the cadavers are still cadavers, and not crumble.

  “Will anything you say make sense? And you sound a lot less sophisticated than when I first got here.”

  Don’t mind the details. Requiem rolled his orbs for eyes. You’ll understand what it all means once I’ve bestowed my power unto you.

  “Okay and how do we do that?”

  Clearing his throat, Requiem loosened a maelstrom of smoke. Ready?

  “For-?”

  The redhead blinked in confusion. He had no idea what was happening, nor what to expect.

  Without warning, Requiem opened his maw wide, wolfing down Azrael in a single gulp.