“Actively waiting for Death” was a sentence Dyra never knew she would think of. Midday soon passed into evening. Luckily for them, there was already plenty of food waiting on the table. Afterward, they all left for their rooms. Just like before, there was a coin purse waiting for them. Five platinum. Not as much as before, but Dyra wasn’t complaining. She already had more money than what she had ever seen in her life.

She had spent her time in her room, either sleeping or cleaning off her glaive. She had luckily managed to get a few strikes on the griffin. There were some small mixes of griffin blood and mud from accidentally dragginer her glaive on the ground. Apparently, whatever that thing at the door was cleaned everything but their weapons. Dyra didn’t mind though. There was something calming about it.

After a few minutes holding her weapon at an uncomfortable angle just to clean it, she let it lean against the bed. Dyra stood up, walking to the window which overlooked the front gates. The rain had just about fully let up, yet it was getting darker. Only a matter of time now.

She heard three loud knocks at the door.

“Yes?” she called out to no answer.

A million thoughts ran through her mind at once. Was it Her? Here? Now? What did She want with Dyra in the first place? Where were they gonna go?

She strolled to the other side of the room. Dyra turned the knob, opening the door. Instead of what she expected, Dyra came face to face with Nalia.

“Hey, Reiha told us there’s food downstairs. Must be-” her attention snapped to Talion, who was making fart noises with his armpit. “Would you please shut up!” she turned back to Dyra. “Must be dinnertime.”

“Yeah. Yeah, okay. I’ll be right down.”

“Everything alright?” she asked.

“Yep. All fine. I was just getting some sleep in.”

“Alright… See you down, then.”

Dyra was left alone. Might as well head down, she thought to herself. Dyra stepped out, closing the door behind her. Her footsteps echoed through the hallway as she walked towards the stairwell. Dyra couldn’t shake off the eerie feeling of being alone in a massive fortress like this, the only thing keeping her company being her loud, echoing footsteps. The feeling died down though as she rounded the corner and was met by the sounds of everyone else talking.

She was about to walk past the front doors without much mind to it. However, she stopped in her tracks as she realized it was slightly open.

Must’ve forgotten to close it, she thought to herself.

As Dyra went to close it, she heard the faint sounds of something croaking outside. Curious, she slightly poked her head outside. It was pretty dark, but thanks to her darkvision, she was able to see fairly clearly.

It was a raven. Just a singular raven jumping around on the ground.

“Mm…” she muttered, closing the door.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Wait… So running into kobolds was actually a common experience?”

“It was more or less one pack of kobolds, but yes. They were fine. Mostly. There were a few rare occasions of some small bits of food conveniently going ‘missing’, but otherwise we got along well.”

“Did you ever run into any of their traps? I heard they’re famous for making those.”

“Did find a few here and there. Never actually set them off, though. They were clearly made for animals or those trying to invade their nests, so not a real big issue there either.”

Dyra had spent the last few minutes answering Nalia’s questions about a pack of kobolds that lived near her tribe. She somehow always found another question to ask, and - despite coming into contact with a bunch of kruthiks, a griffin, and a god- she seemed more than interested in learning about the little guys.

Dyra leaned back, yawning. Just by looking at everyone else, she assumed they felt tired as well.

“I think I’m going to head back to my room,” Talion stated.

“Me too,” Reiha added.

With that, everyone got up from their seats. Talion was the first to walk out. But suddenly, as he left the room, he stopped. He seemed to look down slightly, gazing at something in front of him.

“Is that a bird…?” he asked.

Dyra looked behind him. It was the same exact raven from before, still jumping on the ground.

“What in the…” she murmured to herself.

“Did someone leave the door open?” Reiha asked.

“I’ll take it back outside,” Dyra said.

She went down on one knee, going to scoop it up. Instead, the raven seemed to have its own plans. It flapped its wings and flew up into the air. It let out a quiet croaking sound as it landed on her right shoulder.

“Hey, I think it likes you,” Talion said.

Its talons, which were sunk into her shoulders, stung slightly.

“Well I’m gonna bring it outside before it decides it needs to drop a load,” Dyra stated.

The cold night air hit her directly in the face as she opened the door. She took three slow steps outside, one foot after another.

“Okay, time to get off,” she said to the raven. Only, it wouldn’t let go. She walked further outside.

“Wanna get off now?” she asked.

Suddenly, the bird flapped its wings, slapping Dyra in the face.

“Hey!” she shouted, moving her head out of the way.

The raven flew upwards towards the front gates, disappearing into the night air.

“Hello, Dyra,” came a voice from beside her.

Dyra froze.

“I apologize for the lateness,” said Death. “Had to make sure no one would be around.”

Dyra couldn’t reply. No words came out of her mouth. A thousand things rushed through her mind. She tried desperately to find the right words. But none seemed to fit.

“Are you ready?” Death asked.

“For wha-”

Before Dyra could finish her sentence, darkness washed over her. And then, the feeling. The same feeling that she felt once before when Chaos teleported her and the group hundreds of feet into the air. Dyra wasn’t sure if she was ever going to get used to it, and she hoped she never would.

In an instant, they appeared in Direwood, though this time it was in a location Dyra hadn’t seen before. From the looks of it, it was a cemetery.

“Entrance is just this way,” Death said, moving towards a tall steel gate.

Dyra followed behind.

“Do you know where we’re at?”

“A cemetery…?” Dyra responded.

Death opened the front gate to the cemetery, gesturing for Dyra to step in first.

“It’s older than the town itself. And one of the biggest places you’re going to find here. But that’s not important. There’s someone here I wish for you to meet.”

“The priest that lives here, I’m guessing?”

“No. This person isn’t alive.”

Death closed the gate behind Her. The moment She stepped inside, a bright ball of white light appeared right in front of them. The moment the small bit of light engulfed Dyra, the cold she felt seemed to instantly disappear.

“You have questions.”

“Where do I start...” Dyra chuckled. They walked through the countless gravestones that stood in the dirt. Dyra wondered briefly how many people lay buried underneath these mounds. She knew it was impossible to count all of them.

“We were chosen for a reason, weren’t we?”

“Yes.”

“He - Chaos - told us we won’t be able to understand His true goals. What did He mean by that?”

“He meant exactly what He said. I could tell you exactly why you out of millions of others were chosen. Why and how Me and the Others are involved. I can tell you Our true goals. But no one would understand. Not now, at least, and not for a while.”

Dyra remained silent for a moment.

“Well what can you tell me?”

“I can tell you anything you want as long as you ask the right questions.”

“What?”

“Us gods are like open books. We are almost always together, which tends to get boring once you start spending every single second with a being who knows just as much as you. When a mortal asks a question, We don’t hesitate to answer.”

“Could it be a question about anything?”

“Anything.”

“Oh yeah? Hmm… Do gods need rest?”

“Not really necessary, but we like relaxing every once in a while.

“Okay…” Dyra couldn’t tell if Death’s version of “once in a while’ meant every five years or once every million years. “Okay, why do dwarves exist? They seem like shorter humans who like beards and living inside mountains.”

“Well, We had originally planned to make humans before dwarves. But then Morpheus thought it would be funny if we made humans but shorter… And with darkvision. With an affinity for mines and blacksmiths. He has a strange sense of humor.”

“Yet another reason to make fun of Aigor. Oh, do gods have their own separate language, like common or elvish?”

“Of course We do.”

“Has it ever been spoken around mortals? What does it sound like?”

“It has. Occasionally. But it’s mainly spoken when We’re alone. To us, it sounds like any other language, but to a mortal… Well, it could have the chance to cause problems.”

“Problems?”

“Our language isn’t like anything mortals have heard before. You have to understand, it isn’t like Elvish or Dwarvish or anything of that matter. When a mortal thinks of a language, they think of something that can be easily spoken or written down. To someone who isn’t a god, the language We speak sounds - for a lack of a better word - incomprehensible. It has an effect on people. Just even hearing it would make someone feel uneasy, nervous, scared even.”

“Huh… Okay…”

They rounded another corner. Dyra noticed that just like Chaos, Death had an unusually fast walking pace.

Just off in the distance, she could see a building. From where Dyra was standing, it looked small. Must be the temple, she assumed. But she couldn’t make out too many details from where she was. But what she could see, however, was the gravestones. There seemed to be a ton of them. For a town as small as this, Dyra was surprised that she didn’t spot this place sooner.

“Are there any more planets out in the universe just like this one?”

“Yes. Countless of other habitable planets. Just like this one.”

“Wow… Crazy to think we’re the only life out in the universe.”

“Who said there wasn’t other life out in the universe?”

“What?”

“Our destination is just over here,” Death said, looking to Her left.

Some of the gravestones looked old. So old that Dyra couldn't even read the names or dates carved into them. Some of the gravestones had dust and moss covering them, while others looked as if they were cared for every day - with fresh roses either leaning against the gravestone or growing out of the ground in front of it.

“Tell me, Dyra,” Death said, “when can a grave-seer communicate with the dead?”

“Before they’re claimed,” Dyra answered.

“You’re right. To an extent.”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s much easier to see a spirit before they’re claimed. But there are some cases in which you can talk to someone who has been dead for years.”

“But…” Dyra paused mid-sentence for a few seconds. “I’ve only heard stories about that. Grave-seers who were able to speak to those long since gone. But I always thought they were just that. Stories.”

“Some of them may be false, some may be true,” Death said. “But I can assure you that it has been done before. But, see, it’s tricker to do so once they’ve been claimed. First, they have to cross through Veroth and into Melaris. Until then, you may as well forget about speaking to them. But once they reach Melaris, any skilled grave-seer can speak to them. But under one condition: whoever makes it there must be willing to speak to the grave-seer.”

“Is that why we’re here?” Dyra asked.

Death stopped at a gravestone.

“It’s best if we sit down,” Death stated. “This may take a while.”

Dyra sat down on the cold grass. The ball floating above the gravestone. Like many of the others, this one looked ancient. She couldn’t make out any of the words, except for one “r” in the first name. Death, who was sitting down next to her, leaned forward, touching the gravestone. It took Dyra a few seconds to process what She just did.

The gravestone looked as new as ever. Any bit of moss or dirt or grime was now completely gone. Some miniature chunks of stone that fell off the gravestone were now back into its missing spot. The stone itself looked as if it had just been freshly cut and polished. Dyra could now clearly read the name, which looked like it was carved yesterday. Iryn. She then looked at the dates underneath.

“He lived 420 years ago,” Dyra gasped.

“Long since gone,” Death said. “Long since forgotten.” In Her hands appeared a singular flower, which She leaned against the gravestone. “Let’s speak to him, shall we?”

“You mean it…?”

“Now, speaking to someone who’s already been claimed is different from someone who hasn’t. First, you’re going to need something that they owned while still alive. It can be anything: a strand of hair, piece of wood from their house, piece of jewelry, anything. Luckily, you should have something in your pocket.”

“I do…?” Dyra reached into her right pocket.

“Other one.”

Dyra put her hand into her left pocket. Suddenly, she felt something small and cold in her hand. She pulled it out, revealing a diamond studded ring.

“I’m guessing this was his?”

“It was. Or still is, should I say. But what I want you to do is focus on the ring. Put every single detail of it to mind. It will be your only tether to Iryn.”

Dyra twirled the ring in her fingers. The light from the floating ball reflected against the diamonds. It looked beautiful, yet expensive. She began to wonder how much the ring even cost.

“Now, we don’t have all night, so I’m going to help you out with the next part.”

In Death’s hand appeared a small, smooth bit of stone with a few runes carved into it. Only, it didn’t look like anything she’s ever seen before. It looked oddly simple, but the moment Dyra grabbed it, a jolt of energy rushed through the palm of her hand and up her arm in the matter of a second, causing her to almost drop it. She’s always been told that touching a rune would cause it to light up with a dark red color. However, this one didn’t.

“What language is this?” Dyra asked.

“Remember when I told you Us gods have our own language?”

“This… This is-”

“It translates to, ‘the past shall speak’,” Death smiled. “It’s yours now, Dyra.”

A small, bright flame suddenly erupted in front of them, almost causing Dyra to recoil in shock. The ball of light that was flying overhead disappeared.

“Are you ready, Dyra?” Death asked.

“No time like the present,” Dyra answered.

“Throw the sigil into the fire.”

Dyra did as She asked. The moment the stone was consumed by the fire, sparks exploded upwards. The color of the flame shifted from its original red color to blue, yellow, and then finally green.

“And now, throw in the ring.”

Dyra clutched the ring, looking at the green fire. She exhaled, throwing in the ring.

She expected another explosion. Maybe some sparks at least. Instead, the flame was extinguished.

“What happened?” Dyra was about to ask. But before she could finish that question, The fire sprung back to life. It erupted into the air, bigger than what it was last time.

“Don’t be frightened,” reassured Death. “Just keep the image of the ring in mind.”

Just as quickly as the flame appeared, it disappeared back into smoke. This time, something was sitting in its place. Or, someone. It was a smokey-blue translucent figure. It barely had the form of a human.

The figure, who Dyra guessed was Iryn, spoke. Or, at least he tried to speak. His words came out too muffled to understand.

And then, he disappeared. Poof.

Thoughts rushed through her mind as she still tried to process what just happened.

“Did I…” she started to say. “I messed it up, didn’t I?”

Death smiled from beside her. “Don’t blame yourself. Happens all the time to learners.” She stood up from the ground, Dyra did the same. “But, not everyone is able to do what you just did, Dyra. Afterall, practice makes perfect.”

“Does that mean You’ll-”

“Of course I will,” Death answered before the question could even be asked. “I’m going to be busy for a little while, but I’ll be back before You know it.”

Dyra was at a loss for words. “Thank you,” was the first thing that came out.

“I’ll take care of the ring,” Death said, looking at the ground. “Don’t forget your sigil.”

To Dyra’s surprise, both the ring and stone were still there on the ground. She bent down, picking it up from the ground.

“Let’s get you back, shall we?”