Ghouls did not have greetings, per se. Or they did, but like all things ghoulish, they were practical and to the point. Instead of saying hello, if they said anything, it would be ‘found meat?’ The standard ghoulish farewell was a simple ‘don’t die.’

Krrsh woke in the Bone Taker’s burrow. He had chosen to sleep there, throwing all his instinctual caution to the wind, but he was still startled when he opened his eyes, in the moment before he remembered.

That first startlement was nothing compared to the second, when Bone Taker talked in his head. Krrsh nearly wet himself at that.

“You are awake. Good sleep?”

Krrsh looked around wildly, but the voice hadn’t come from anywhere. It was just there. In his head. Krrsh raised his hands to beat his skull at this frightening new development, but stopped. What if Bone Taker thought he was trying to beat at it? That seemed like a… a not clever thing to do. No. Slowly Krrsh let his arms fall to his sides once more. He mustered up the courage to respond.

“You. In my head. How.”

“No,” the watcher replied. “Just my voice. Not me.”

Krrsh considered this. Just as ghouls rarely lied, so they did not often consider that others might be lying to them. If the Bone Taker said it was so, then however cannot the statement was, he was prepared to accept it. Krrsh had by now seen so many examples of cannot that obviously were, that the word and concept behind it had begun to lose meaning for him.

“Not in Krrsh’s head. Then where?”

“Your name is Krrsh?” The voice asked.

“Yes. Where is Bone Taker?”

“Who is Bone Taker?” the voice asked, obviously confused. Krrsh felt that maybe it was not so clever.

“You are Bone Taker. Where are you?”

“Ah,” the voice said, with obvious and sudden understanding. “My name is Anomus, not Bone Taker. And I am… everywhere, in this place. I am this place.”

Krrsh let that sink in. He realized his hands were creeping up towards his head again for a little light beating, to make his thinking go better. Habit, yes. He made them go back down to his sides. Bone Taker was a place, this place. He had never thought a person could also be a place. Old Wrna had never told any story about that. But it wasn’t cannot, to him. Not like a suddenly appearing Man tool. The world was big, very big, and there was much ghouls did not know, yes.

“Not Bone Taker,” Krrsh finally responded.

“No. Anomus.”

“An-Ano- too hard to make those sounds.”

“I see. Architect would hardly be better, then. You may call me Builder, if you like.”

“Builder. Good. Easy. Not Bone Taker.”

“No.”

“Where are the bones, Builder?” Krrsh pointed towards the place with no bones, only meat.

“Ah. Gone. I put in a place to, to rest. To sleep.”

“You took bones.”

“Yes.”

“But you are not Bone Taker.”

“No.”

Ghouls were fully capable of rolling their eyes, and when they did, it was for the exact same reasons humans did. Krrsh found, to his surprise, that he was rapidly losing his fear of Bone Taker. Maybe it was powerful, but clever? Krrsh was starting to have serious doubts.

“What Bone T- what Builder want?” Krrsh asked. Ghouls did not have chats. “Want mate? Because no. No mate. No no no. Cannot, no.” Krrsh shuddered at the thought.

“What? No. Why would you- no, Krrsh. No mating.” The voice seemed disturbed at the thought as well, and that was good. Very good.

“So what want?” Krrsh asked again.

“Must I want something?” the voice replied, and Krrsh gave it consideration.

“Bone- Builder let Krrsh eat meat. Builder give Man tool and den. Builder no want mate. Yes, Builder want something. What?”

The voice was silent for a moment. When it spoke again, its tone seemed more serious.

“Yes, you’re correct. I do want something. I want you and other ghouls to stay here. To live here.”

“What for?”

“Enemies are coming. I want to kill them. You and your kind can help.”

“What enemies?”

“Men.”

Krrsh was already shaking his head. “Ghouls eat. Ghouls fight to not die. Ghouls do not hunt, do not kill to eat. Eat already dead. It is the Law.”

“The law? What law?”

Krrsh shook his head some more. The Bone Taker really was not clever. “Ghouls have Law, Builder. We cannot eat what we kill.”

“Why?”

“Curse.”

The voice was silent for a moment. Then, “Tell me. Explain.”

Krrsh sighed, scratched at his ear, and sighed again. It was not a good story to tell, no. But he squatted down in his den and decided to tell the Builder, just as old Wrna had told him and all the other pups at some point. He remembered exactly the time Wrna had told him. It was the most words he had heard come out of any ghoul at one time, before or since. Many claws of words.

“Listen,” Krrsh began, just as Wrna had, “and no howling until finished. This is story of the Law all ghouls must follow, and why…”

~ ~ ~

Long ago, many claws of generations ago, ghouls were not ghouls.

They looked the same, yes, but taller and stronger, fiercer and more clever and far more brave. And they did not live in packs, no. They lived in one big pack, and their leader was a female, the cleverest of all.

In those long-ago days, ghouls could walk in the sun, yes, but they lived mostly in the dark, because they were the ‘servants’ of the god of the dead. When any thinking animal died, ghouls came to take the body, yes, and to take the soul. No, I don’t know what ‘servants’ is. No, they did not eat the meat. Stop throwing bone and listen.

They took the body and did things to it. No, I said already not eat. They wrapped it and put things on it and in it and all sorts of things ghouls know nothing about now. Because the god of the dead told them to, that’s what for. Stop talking.

And the long-ago ghouls took the spirits of the dead to the Underplace, where the god of the dead would decide what happened next. Very important, yes. The god was happy with ghouls, and ghouls were happy. Until one day the leader of ghouls did a bad thing.

Listen and not ask what for and I will say. The leader of ghouls thought ghouls did much work, yes, but still ‘servants’. She did not want to be ‘servants’. She did not want ghouls to be ‘servants’. So she did a bad thing. She killed the god of the dead.

Not know how. But she did it, and became god of the dead, yes. Powerful, yes. Ghouls not ‘servants’ then. But the other gods, very angry. They tell her “You are god now. But other ghouls will suffer. They no more eat plants, they no more hunt in ‘green fields’ and ‘forests’. They no more walk in the sun. You are god of the dead, now your people only eat the dead they find, carrion, yes. And to stay thinking animal, they must eat thinking animal. They no eat what they kill, or will die.” This is curse of gods.

Only two gods not curse. First is Mother Moon. Sad, she was, for ghouls. Leader bad, yes, but all ghouls not leader. No. Only one. And children not do bad thing, and children of children…

You bad, yes. Beat old Wrna with bone, talk no listen. But not that bad. Nobody that bad except leader long ago.

So Mother Moon calls to us, to tell us she has not forgotten us. But she can do nothing else. Second is her first son, No-Face god. He does not care much, is not sad for ghoul. But he follow his mother, yes. No curse.

And that is why ghouls no eat kill. Why ghouls no walk day. Why ghouls eat Man carrion if can, and lesser carrion if cannot. This is what means to be ghoul. Now get bone out Wrna’s face.

~ ~ ~

Krrsh finished his story, and silence descended on the Tomb. Only the buzz of flies relieved it. Krrsh scratched unhappily at his thigh.

“Krrsh,” the voice said, “Your story is sad.”

“Yes.”

“What if I could lift your curse?”

Krrsh let out a series of yips that was the laughter of his kind. “Curse from gods. Builder is god?”

“No,” the voice admitted. “But I can do things. I can change living things. Perhaps I can change you.”

“Change how?”

“It seems you must eat the flesh of thinking creatures in order to maintain your own intellect,” the voice said. “It is possible that I could change that. If you truly die if you kill what you eat, perhaps I could change that as well. I can try.”

Krrsh did not understand half of what the Builder had just said. “What mean?”

“I mean, maybe I can change you so that you can eat anything, not just man flesh, and stay clever. Maybe.”

“Cannot,” Krrsh said, shaking his head. Meaning, of course, impossible.

“Can try,” the builder replied. “If you want.”

Krrsh thought. He thought as hard as he had ever thought. He thought about ‘green fields’ and ‘forests,’ whatever they were, and hunting in them. He thought about… about… turning a living animal into meat, and eating it, instead of having to search for what was already dead. He thought about no more difference between man carrion and lesser carrion.

He thought about defeating the worst enemy of ghouls. Hunger.

The thoughts were too big. He had to get up, to run across the sands until his head was big enough to hold them. Krrsh stood and padded out of the den and towards the tunnel’s exit.

“Where are you going, Krrsh?” the voice asked.

“Must talk to Mother Moon,” he replied. And then he was gone, loping across the sands in the strong moonlight.

~ ~ ~

He was the darkness between the stars; He was the shadow beneath the belly of a worm. He was the Faceless One, the Reaper, god of death and darkness and blood and retribution. And He had waited a very long time for this moment.

He was bound by ancient accords between the Old Gods and the new, the agreements that had ended direct strife between the deities and secured a lasting peace – a peace that had proved to be to the benefit of the new gods, and the great detriment of the old. Who now among mortals made sacrifice to Him? Very few, and among the Subori, only the Architect had, for closer to a millennium than not. Meanwhile, He had stood silent witness as the young pantheon of Shining Ones had ignited first the Subori, and then begun to spread outward from the empire, like wildfire, across the circle sea.

He was the god of death, and retribution. But he was shackled, able only to act in the interests of His followers, bound to noninterference in the wider world. When the Architect had discovered His chamber and made offerings, he had become the Faceless One’s follower, whatever his reason for obeisance might have been. And when the Subori emperor had slit the Architect’s throat, the Reaper had been within His rights to offer the dying man a chance at retribution. Death had hovered and blood flowed down in the dark, after all - and on the new moon, no less. None could gainsay His decision to act. He had not violated the compact, and none could claim He had, whatever followed from his action.

And what would follow, the Faceless One was certain, would be chaos and woe for his enemies.

The Old God watched the ghoul loping across the moonlit desert, struggling with concepts larger and more momentous than it was capable of understanding. He had listened to its retelling of the history if its race. As fragmented and simplified as it had been, it was largely correct. The jackal folk had fallen far from their original state. Or rather, had been pushed. A once-noble race, but not one that had worshipped him and so, even then, not a race that he could offer the grace of retribution to. Driven towards the state of crouching, skulking beasts, one would never imagine that they had once been proud, wise, straight-limbed race. It was a testament to their will that they still survived at all. He understood why his Mother still offered them what comfort She could, after an age. But comfort was not in His nature.

Retribution, yes.

The Faceless One had not planned the meeting between the Architect and the ghoul. He did not control fate, or destiny. He did not move mortals across a playing board. He did not interfere, not in such a direct fashion. But to be able to offer retribution meant that retribution must, in some fashion, be a possibility. Such were the fundamental, natural laws that gods labored under. Among them all only Fate could say what would happen, and Fate never spoke.

Could the Architect undo what had been done to the ghoul? The Reaper believed he could. He had the ability, and the intellect.

Would the other gods howl to see their work undone, their decree ignored? Oh, yes. Many of them would. If they ever noticed. Or rather, when they finally noticed – for the Faceless One thought that the Architect would not be content to restore the jackal-folk to their former state and then do nothing with them. They would make their mark, in one way or another. And when they did, the other gods would turn to Him, with accusations and anger and ire. And he would say “Where have I violated the compact?”

And they would have no reply.

And if the Architect turned his frightening intellect and drive towards the empire as a whole, rather than its ruler alone? The Faceless One had no mouth with which to smile, but smile He did. It might be the only way the Architect could secure his retribution, for it was doubtful the bloodstained emperor would be so foolish as to enter the Tomb once its corruption had been discovered.

If the Architect managed so great a feat, then the other gods would come to him in thunder and fire, spouting accusations and dire threats. And again, the Reaper would say “Where have I done harm to the terms of the accord?” But then He would also say, “Take care that You do not violate the compact either, for the punishments are terrible, as You Yourselves have just reminded Me.”

The Architect would have his retribution, if his will and cunning were equal to the task. And in the course of it, the Reaper believed, He would get His as well.