This existence was strange. To still experience after death to exist and feel. Body, burning, agony, exhilaration. Heart swelling, pride born of vengeance. The land was half black with a cold sulphurous rotting dung, half white with white sun bleached bones of the dead. This place was nothing and he knew not what it's purpose was.

Here in this empty world two other beings flickered along with him. They did not know of their demise, perhaps they fell slept in the ice, perhaps they slept in a cave full of bad spirits, still naively they spoke of some mission, a journey they must fulfill. They were shadows of their lives, but he was not. Murkie knew what had happened and where he was.

There his teeth were clenched around the whelps neck. Yagbur and his cowardice had crept behind him and tried to kill him. He reveled in the memory "Weak, Weak Weak!!" He screamed.

The other shades looked at him and muttered their babel. "Time has perished. The land festers and rots. Black and death is all that surrounds us." Murkie spoke the truth. They didn't hear him. This wandering was frivolous. All that mattered was that he had revenged Ving, had taken Havlek's honor back.

He listened and walked and boasted of his deeds, but there, there it was. It was that singing again. It was thee same that told him of his demise. He was here, the watcher, the spirit, the one who ruled this plain of existence. Shadows covered him, they were him. Always watching.

"Great specter! Show me what I must do here." As per usual the specter ignored him. Murkie would not be bothered by this. Instead he groveled, fingers digging into the earth. It was cold and stung his skin. He took huge handfuls and rubbed them on himself. The specter looked down at him shaking his head.

"What have I done to displease you." There it was that song again. Its dug its talons into his scalp scraping his skull. Again he saw the from the bird's eyes. Murkie saw from the eyes of death as they looked at him. He hungered in the black miasma and waited to swallow the world. Worst of all was when he became that twisting body, blinding him with endless knowledge, it was as he was, a great blood vengeance.

This wretched man broke from the agony of the punishment. Snot dripped down his lips, tears turned with the shaking of his head. "What have I done?"

The other two shades went on ahead once the fit had subsided. Murkie lifted himself up and followed after.

Murkie knew their death was before them, always behind them, and became them.

* * *

"He's at it again." Sanshall complained. "You're making him worse."

Yagbur was concerned and shook his head. "I've told you I'm not the one doing this. He must have caught fever or injured his head."

Ilsebek continued bandaging the new scrapes on the deranged man and spoke, "If it was that, he'd have his fever and burn out and die. Instead you curse him constantly."

Yagbur was still conflicted about this. The First one had told him the songs and rites he must perform on their return journey, and each performance seemed to wear at the man who had hated him. The singer had been sure he didn't harbor any ill will against him but each episode wore at that confidence. Maybe he did wish him dead, they'd wanted the same for him.

Frustration came out in his response, "I don't have a choice but to keep singing. Every moment I stop is a moment when our journey ends with each of us dying an agonizing death."

The others had not heard about this, and looked at him. "I don't need to explain.", he said defensively twirling a loose feather. "The order was sing anytime I felt the bag shift on its own." They looked confused and he continued "Every other moment I feel this thing, this weight jerk."

Ilsebek responded cautiously as he stood while carefully taking a step back from the singer. "So you're saying First told you we die terrible deaths if you don't sing."

"Yes", he responded embarrassed by the absurdity

"The object in your bag will going to kill the Dauver?"

"That is the Dreamer's truth"

"And that object is moving?"

"Would you carry it to know?" Yagbur growled back lightly. He hadn't meant it to come out that way, but the stress between the insane rambling and the intentional avoidance of thinking about what it was he was even carrying.

He felt the mocking and derision that they held for him. It didn't matter that they were supposedly afraid of his non-existent powers. They stared at him as he felt the tugging at his back. They were hard pulls that threatened to take him to the ground. The other two looked terrified.

"Death becomes us." Rasped Murkie who stood next to Yagbur. Face near touching. Eyes deranged. Mouth drawn open in a rictus grin full of fangs. "Lead us in these lands of death great specter.

Bubbling noises came from the bag.

* * *

The Great Specter would carry his burden, the thing within would sleep for some time, but at times it didn't. Murkie watched as he saw it flexing. It was the seed of balance he knew. It would right the world when the great one determined it was time.

Murkie awaited that determination. Every time though it twitched, he hoped it was the moment. Each time it was not and the specter tormented him with that vile song. Chord by chord Murkie's mind would be ripped from one being to the next, it would twist him and change him. The tormented one did not understand. It was not for him to question his alpha but he longed for that seed to bring forth its bounty.

Again the seed of balance, his hope stretched and flexed.

"This time" He muttered to where the other spirits could not here him.

"This time" As he drew himself closer to watch the Great Specter’s concentration.

"Death Becomes us!" Murkie said grinning with elation.

It was time!

It was time!

Now!

Now!

Now!

He thought over and over as he hopped from foot to foot waving his arms wildly with joy, spittle flying. He could see the first roots of the seed springing forth.

Light pored out from the Great Specter’s mouth. It blinded him and burned him. The light was song, it was hate, it was fear, it became the core of everything Murkie was.

He watched floating in the void. It was utter blackness, blood surrounded him. It would awake and devour everything. He would swallow the light.

Tendrils of light came whipping out from the great ones mouth. They lashed and wrapped around him.

"Noooo!" Murkie cried. He did not want to sleep. It had been so long since he had consumed, he was so reduced and small. Murkie struggled wiggling and pulling at the light, but it was too strong.

Time slowed until it stopped once more entropy reversed, and Murkie felt his shell sealing him back.

Murkie smelled his burning flesh. It was his body again, or what passed for one in this unlife. Mind was wracked beyond what he could handle and he began to fade. The sky continued to flash for its blood vengeance.

"Life was a short fog.

It obscures.

It lies.

In nothing there is truth."

-High Priest of the Dead