1 – The Ferryman
Divine light assailed Diamond Tooth from all directions, its brilliance emanating from nowhere and everywhere, washing all it touched on its side of the A’raf with pervasive and offensive love. With the lumenite no longer protecting her ruach, the warmth of the light bruised her astral surface and smothered her breathing.
She screened her eyes with a quivering hand as she trudged through the roads and trails, squinting against the shimmering grasses and trees. Her eyes dried out, the lids threatening to tear with each blink.
She dropped to her knees by a nearby pond and submerged her face in fresh water. But the water did not relieve her suffering. It steamed and sizzled around her eyes while an infernal itch set in. The harder she scratched, the more her vision became distorted.
Fueled by a yearning for freedom, she pushed onward with feverish intensity. Soon enough, the thick aroma of salt told her she had reached the world’s edge.
The white void stretched before her, dotted with a distant cluster of islands. Her destination, the isle of Mag Mell, floated in the formidable expanse of nothingness in a dreamlike state while Jannah sparkled in serene waters. Between them, the islands of Aaru sat in two parts—half in water and half in the white void, cleaved down the middle by Anima Falls, where the entirety of Oceanus roared into the everlasting blankness.
Radiant light cascaded out from the abyss, its intensity too mighty for Diamond Tooth to look upon. Her eyelids burned and quivered in agony. It was never meant for demons such as her. The light branded itself into her vision, never to be forgotten.
The inky fabric of an ankou’s robe billowed in the breeze, a shadow standing against the brilliant light. It appeared before her as if it had been rooted to the spot since the dawn of time until it willingly revealed itself, much like an apparition materializing from a dream.
A ferry emerged above Diamond Tooth, just as ominous and mysterious; the two seemed connected by some invisible force. And its four pallid horses snorted and stamped at their tethers, churning up a ghostly mist of shimmering sand as if eager to cross over and transport their spectral master to the islands beyond.
Diamond Tooth approached the menacing ankou, dreading the thought of what her fate might be.
The top of its pointed hood rose way over her head, its robes concealing whatever spirit dwelt within from sight or touch, the hood casting a dark shadow over its hidden visage.
Diamond Tooth yearned for the solace that the ghoulish cloak would bring if she enveloped herself in it as a safeguard against the piercing light.
But the cloak pulsed with a life of its own, entwined with the ankou in a seamless unity. Nothing could have sundered them.
She could never tear it away from its bearer. The cloak would only reject her and return to its master. If she dared to even reach out for it, the bagh nakhs she wielded could not harm an ankou—each one was armed with a scythe capable of annihilating any spirit with just one dreadful stroke. Any attempt to seize the cloak would be fruitless. Despite all her craftiness and courage, Diamond Tooth could not prevail in a fight against such power—she was no fool.
Besides, only the ankou could ferry her to the distant islands across the great white abyss. A select few spirits were ever granted the privilege to traverse between the Underworld and Paradise with impunity, such as the mysterious ankou. Tales became rife that these ferrymen had even greater autonomy, being able to venture beyond those realms, tasked to escort the recently deceased to their ultimate resting place.
And payment for this ride aboard the ankou’s boat was lumenite, yet all that remained of Diamond Tooth’s lumenite was a pouch full of dust.
Undeterred, she poured the powdery remnants into her hand with a determined trembling, knowing she had little choice but to present them and hope for passage.
“It’s slightly worse for wear,” Diamond Tooth said. “But it’s all there. Every grain.”
The bony fingers of the ankou stretched from its dark, billowing robe and hovered over Diamond Tooth’s trembling palm.
The lumenite powder twirled and churned like a tiny, sparkling tempest in her hand. Against all expectations, the particles coalesced into a single glowing stone that filled the air with an angelic hum.
In awe, Diamond Tooth watched as the ankou restored the lumenite’s life; it solidified and glowed with heavenly radiance.
But before she could revel in its return to her grasp, the luminous stone shot into the ankou’s skeletal hand with an unnerving swiftness. As the bones receded into its shadowy vestments, the lumenite’s ethereal hum ceased, and its light disappeared into the gloomy abyss of the ankou’s sleeve.
“I need that!” Diamond Tooth clenched her fists.
The ankou, emanating a calm air of serenity, extended an arm towards the ferry.
The expansive vessel that had soared above them only moments before shifted its form. It shrank into a single-occupant craft operated by a single figure in the blink of an eye. Its four pale horses transformed into a single spectral steed, whose shadowy outline stirred the sands with underworldly grace.
Diamond Tooth’s muscles unclenched, the tightness slipping from them like a sigh released into the dark. Her fingers uncoiled with an almost geologic reluctance as if passaging time had set each one in place. The frustration and rage rising within her burned like a forge’s fire, yet it was wisdom to gather her composure and follow the ankou.
“You never impounded the lumenite before,” Diamond Tooth said. “Will you return it?”
“In or out.” The ankou’s voice reverberated into the void like a blade. Its timbre shook her to her core with a finality that seemed to have been carved into the very fabric of time itself. Its words radiated an eternal coldness and a monumental weight of unmistakable consequence that anchored her in place, depriving her of other options. It was far beyond a mere choice between Paradise and the Underworld; this was whether she would take the ultimate risk and venture into the realm of the living for survival. To feed off the living rather than being confined in the Underworld, where she could barely subsist on the damned. There was only one chance for her to break free.
Unlike demons such as Diamond Tooth, ankou answered to no one. They served as arbiters of fate and defenders of the hapless and downtrodden against lofty deities like the Master, Selladore, Anu, or Magna Mater, who viewed the damned as unfeeling instruments for their entertainment. Such was why the Underworld remained in an everlasting state of chaos until a schism occurred among those condemned to it.
Diamond Tooth’s resolve intensified, and she walked towards the boat, knowing this was her only hope for preservation.
The vessel floated inches above the sand. And it seemed to sense that Diamond Tooth, an entity of darkness, could not bear the illumination of Paradise. Thus, it created a canopy to shield her from the scathing radiance of the glaring chasm.
She cowered beneath its shade, encasing herself in her arms and burying her head into her lap to conceal her eyes from the devilish rays as they journeyed to the levitating utopias that awaited them.
2 – Mag Mell
The ankou ferry touched down at the majestic isle of Mag Mell.
Diamond Tooth spilled out of the boat, heedless of her surroundings, trampling over the magenta flora and verdant glades that populated the soil.
From across the chasm, the island’s silhouette appeared mundane in size, but everything changed upon setting foot on its soil. The island grew in both size and grandeur before her eyes. An enchanting spell had perhaps been cast; for now, it loomed over the abyss like an entirely new realm, swallowing the horizon on all sides as if it would expand to placate the prodigious egos and vacuous eminence of the judgmental, sanctimonious, and frankly… just obnoxious spirits who dwelled there.
The air carried the fragrant scent of flowers with a hint of hedonism, and its balmy touches were a cruel reminder of a different world that was vibrant and aglow with life. It wafted into Diamond Tooth’s nose, carrying traces of nauseating freshness, absent of the rot and death she enjoyed in the Underworld.
The acrid miasma of the Underworld was a crisp and melodious lullaby of chimes that swept away benevolence to fill Diamond Tooth with the rancor and fortitude to persevere despite the odds, while the invigorating atmosphere of Paradise was instead a searing inferno as if each gasp was accompanied by blazing coals piercing her ruach. It scorched her lungs. And the blessed water was toxic for all demonic consumption—holy water burned demons to second death. Paradise was the true Hell, Diamond Tooth’s waking nightmare.
Diamond Tooth raced through meadows of wildflowers, flourishing gardens, and untouched woodlands.
Pure spirits frolicked about unclothed with an attitude as though concealing their flesh were a sin.
It was agonizing to behold. Not that the people were naked. She was no prude. Outside the boundaries of Paradise, she was young and fairest among haggard beasts, wretched souls, and malformed monstrosities. But each soul in Paradise appeared more youthful than her, more comely than her, and more vivacious than her. Not one gray hair or wrinkle befell any of them; no fat marred their limber frames. Men boasted brawny chests and sculpted torsos, while women flaunted luscious breasts and voluptuous curves. Compared to them, Diamond Tooth felt like a withered old crone.
Harmonious music and revelry clawed at Diamond Tooth’s senses. It pounded at her temples, and her forehead ached.
Even the white rabbits danced in sync with the thumping drums, wailing flutes, and, the most unbearable among them, the plucked strings of a harp.
Diamond Tooth envisioned herself snatching those cords and choking the hapless musician. No one would’ve noticed.
In fact, the people were all so preoccupied with frolicking and devoting their bodies to one another that they were blissfully unaware that Diamond Tooth—a demon—walked among them.
And this caused Diamond Tooth more distress than the constant pain caused by the hazardous environmental conditions. She could handle pain and suffering, but no one ever disregarded her.
But their obliviousness went deeper than just overlooking her. In the same way the brilliance of Paradise shrouded her vision, the sheer bliss of the inhabitants of Paradise prevented them from viewing the wickedness creeping right past them. The righteous ostracized demons with such intensity that they could not see her; their glances slid past her, around her, and through her as if she were invisible.
It irritated Diamond Tooth, for no one ever ignored her. For an instant, she even wished one of them would recognize her mere existence before she withered away to nothing.
But Diamond Tooth’s unrest over her isolation dissipated when she reached her employer’s treehouse among the sprawling forest.
The titanic tree dominated the landscape with its imposing might, stretching up like a relentless monolith into the white void. Its trunk was vast, and its boughs extended out, forming an immaculate canopy that ascended towards the abyss and crowned its share of the island with an emerald diadem and a despicable halo.
Rowings’s palace nestled amid the tree branches, constructed with solid flamboyance and pretentiousness.
The expansive structure was a repulsive vision of vibrant colors, golden walls embellished with intricate carvings, and dazzling emerald gems encrusted in their silky façade. Grand balconies and terraces jutted out to kiss the horizon, while intricately carved marble columns and stairs of opulent statues led to the upper levels of the lofty abode. The tall and arched windows sparkled like stars under illumination, reflecting the cordial beaming of the divine light. The mansion melted into the tree, its branches curling around it like fingers strangling a throat. And each self-important member of the righteous owned an indulgent mansion of a similar overcompensating proportion.
The doors to the dwelling were ajar, beckoning all who passed by them with warmth and welcome.
Yet Diamond Tooth was perhaps the only being to frequent the doorstep of Rowings’s lonesome abode, doing so out of necessity rather than compassion. But even her presence couldn’t stave off his abandonment issues, only adding fuel to his estrangement. This very sorrow drew her in and ignited a spark within.
Rowings lay stretched out on the bed, enveloped in an uneasy slumber. Balding hair reached from his temples to meet his scraggly beard. His Tribulation uniform lay tossed over the chair at his bedside, the hat resting atop it.
Diamond Tooth stood at his bedside for a few moments, watching the rhythm of his breathing and witnessing each violent cough that broke the serenity of his sleep.
Rowings had become yet another victim of spiritual warfare, his ruach scarred and burning to an agonizingly slow second death that could stretch into eternity if he was so unlucky.
And Diamond Tooth derived a perverse delight in his suffering and powerlessness. The irony was not lost on her: Rowings lived in a land without illness or affliction, yet he remained a prisoner in his own bed, withdrawn from company and struck with malaise, preventing him from venturing into his beloved utopia.
Diamond Tooth’s vision slowly sharpened. Moisture lubricated her withered throat, and she could breathe without the air burning her lungs.
Rowing stirred to consciousness and set his gaze upon Diamond Tooth. He gasped and hurled himself backward within the confines of his bed, shielding himself against her presence. Then he sighed with deep contentment, reclining against his thick velvet pillow. “Ah! Diamond Tooth … How delightful to see you, although you don’t look very well.”
“You should look in the mirror,” Diamond Tooth said.
“Did you shut the door?” Rowings’s voice trembled as he sought solace beneath the layers of blankets. “They cannot see me like this. Not yet.”
“You left it open.”
“Can you shut it, please?”
“I did,” she lied.
“Excellent,” he said, beaming, loosening his grasp of the quilts. “I take it your appearance here means you have the information?”
Diamond Tooth yanked at her constricting collar. Her fingers trembled as she undid the clasp, gasping for a trace of the Underworld’s noxious fumes. She tried to moisten her cracked lips with a swipe of her tongue but only drew her stony tongue around and around the dry terrain of her palate.
She had to finish the task hastily and depart from Paradise with alacrity.
“Tivoli is using the name Clem Balfour,” Diamond Tooth said.
Rowings reached beneath the mattress, the sheets rustling as he yanked forth a rough burlap sack with deep satisfaction. “You have done a great deed,” Rowings said, his voice laden with admiration and his eyes shimmering in magical light. “Good for three divine chattel.”
Diamond Tooth lunged for the burlap sack, her eyes settling on a gleaming band adorning Rowing’s withering digit.
In an instant, Rowings clamped down on his hand and swept away the bundle of items beyond Diamond Tooth’s reach. A shard of Rowings’s grin remained, though a frenzied expression pushed it from its mirthful glory. His voice velvety yet taut, he said, “Anything else from Carson?”
Diamond massaged the back of her stiff neck. Tension radiated from every part of her ruach.
“He alluded to a gate,” she whispered, her voice hoarse and raspy.
“Yes, yes. The Torana. Did he indicate its whereabouts?”
Diamond Tooth shook her head and grimaced, her pounding temples threatening to send her into an abyss of unbearable pain.
Rowings slammed his soft mattress; his rage was evident in the booming sound. He sighed and fell back onto his luxurious bed. “I warned you he would deceive us. He only wants it for himself. I expected this. That’s why I sent you—you demons are adept at administering such undertakings.”
“No worries,” Diamond Tooth said. “He’ll never speak to anyone from now on.”
Rowings’s lips pursed, and he heaved himself off the pillow. “What have you done?” His voice was heavy and revealed the anger beneath his tightly controlled exterior.
Diamond Tooth faked a trembling timbre in her voice. “My sincerest apologies, sir. I had understood your desire for revenge for the injustice he did to you. And like any true professional, I ensured those lusts would be fulfilled. I realize now that I may have been overzealous in my retribution against your adversary. But your message has been delivered. As always, you get what you pay for.”
Rowings’s hands clenched around the linen comforter, his piercing gaze fixed on the distant foot of the bed.
“If it’s any consolation,” Diamond Tooth said. “Carson was telling the truth. I know when someone’s lying to me. Liars secrete a specific odor. They don’t smell good or bad. They just don’t smell right. And Carson sort of implied that Tivoli knows where to look for your Torana. He even gave me a key.”
“Give it to me!” A searing heat of fixation and frantic dedication blazed in Rowings’s voice.
For a man as joyful as Rowings had portrayed himself, it was inconceivable why he had been so desperate to depart Paradise. Perhaps his former misdeeds had converged with the grim prospects ahead of him. Or maybe he had become cognizant of what Diamond Tooth knew all too well: that Paradise was an illusion.
Diamond Tooth hoisted the astrolabe from within her blouse, unclasping its golden chain from around her throat.
The heavy object felt like an old lover from bygone days, long deceased but suddenly alive again, as she presented it to Rowings’s awaiting palms with solemn reverence.
“Ah, the astrolabe!” Rowings’s eyes widened in disbelief. His hands trembled as he reached out to cradle the relic in his palms, eager to embrace it like a long-lost love.
The golden ring on his finger glinted in the divine light, daring Diamond Tooth to discover how it had come into his possession.
“What manner of fool would have offered you something so rare and precious?” Rowings said.
“Maybe Carson thought I’d burn you, find Tivoli, and then depart the Underworld forever.”
Rowings roared with mirth, his booming voice echoing against the walls of the cavernous mansion.
Diamond Tooth joined in the jubilance; each lost in their joyous serenade. But while Rowings was reveling in amusement, her laughter had a more sinister undertone. Rowings should’ve asked why she had willingly relinquished possession of such a powerful and valuable trinket—the astrolabe—to him instead of keeping it for herself.
Before long, they trailed off simultaneously, the truth behind their laughter becoming clear.
“Carson was right,” Diamond Tooth said.
Rowings’ face was a mask of terror as he thrashed against the bedsheets, recoiling from Diamond Tooth. He resembled a cowering creature poised to flee from mortal peril. The air was thick with sweat, and alarm wafted around, electrified by the galvanic charge of adrenaline coursing through his trembling frame.
“I’m already burning,” Rowings said. “You’d just be putting me out of my misery.”
“You and me both.” Diamond Tooth pointed her bagh nakhs at Rowings.
Sish. Seven blades launched from her gauntlets and sliced into Rowings’s ruach.
Rowings gasped for air as a rasping second death rattle emerged from his lips.
“Don’t talk,” Diamond Tooth said. “You’ll burn faster. And I can’t have that. I have to make it out of here.”
Diamond Tooth basked in the delicious stench of Rowings’s agonies, the nectar of his distress. Her salivary glands activated, and her eyes ceased to itch as she drew languid, sultry breaths.
She pried the astrolabe from his grip, nestled it against her bosom, and tucked it within her garment. Next, she yanked off the ring from his finger, shoved it into her pocket, and slung the burlap sack with the three objects over her shoulder.
Now only she and Balfour were aware of the Torana’s existence. After Balfour told her where to find it, she’d burn him too; the Torana would then be hers alone.
Before departing, she lingered, reveling in Rowings’s emotional anguish one last time. She was uncertain whether his offering would keep her vitality aloft until she could break free from Paradise, but it was preferable to having nothing.
Rowings’s mouth spasmed as the final flutter of afterlife ebbed through him.
But Diamond Tooth would not be satisfied until every drop of his misery nourished her unspeakable hunger. She greedily drank in every wisp of his evaporating ruach until it burned, leaving only a scorched and sullied memory on the once-pristine bed sheets.
Then a mysterious flicker of afterlife, like kindling that had lit up in a murky abyss, beckoned her to take note.
Eerie web-like fibers unfurled from Rowings’s burned husk in an alarming and sickening display. Hundreds snaked across the bedsheets, weaving into the headboard. The phantasmal threads entwined around his ashes and tugged at his frail form towards the far side of the chamber as if they were a legion of spectral hands.
Diamond Tooth recoiled, pressing her back against the wall as she gaped at the inky tendrils engulfing the room. Her mind contested between curiosity and horror; an unknown force was manifesting before her like some bewitching specter from another realm.
The black fibers moved with purposeful grace, as if controlled by some unseen force. The sinister entity unfurled with indomitable ferocity, enveloping the entire chamber and devouring every corner of the mansion. They diverted around the edges of each beam of light, like ships skirting the jagged rocks of a barren shoreline. The midnight strands slithered through the crevices in the marble floors as though following a map that only they could decipher.
Burned spirits had never acted in such a display of power before. Ordinarily, second death claimed the damned without fanfare—with a mere puff of smoke and an absence of presence. What she had just witnessed was unprecedented and nothing short of spectacular. It brimmed with unfathomable power and left her feeling humbled and awestruck. But what made Rowings so deserving of such extraordinary power?
A tremor rumbled throughout the mansion.
The seismic quake hurled Diamond Tooth off the ground. She crashed onto the hard floor with a sickening thud. The place shook too violently for her to stand.
Diamond Tooth crawled to the main entrance, rolled out of the tottering mansion, and found solid footing. She clambered down the curved stairway carved into the massive trunk. Each beat of her boots against the ancient stone staircase thumped through the solid trunk like a thunderbolt. She raced with the wind as if it carried her in its grasp, leaving dust trails and fading crackle noises in her wake.
She never looked back until she arrived at the base of the towering tree.
The liquescent strands seeped from Rowings’s abode, nestled deep in the canopy. The once-mighty tree leaned precariously as if a single gust would topple it into the island, bringing down the entire forest and every other mansion.
Several ankou soared up to Carson’s treehouse mansion in their boats. The air filled with the beating of their billowing robes, fanning around them like black clouds.
The sickly black tendrils weaved through branches and down the ancient tree’s trunk.
Undaunted, the Ankous brandished their scythes and joined forces against the dark power, hacking and slashing at an agile speed that had little effect on the oppressive infection.
The fibers remained unaffected, clinging to the wood as if rooted there, smothering it in inky strands that stretched across other mansions and reached the forest floor.
Diamond Tooth lingered, transfixed by an internal tug-of-war. She desired to remain and watch the ankous fight off the ensorcelled tendrils, yet instinct warned against it; her astral surface now searing from the divine light’s radiation, and she worried that if she remained, they would soon uncover her as the source of the dark blight that now beset the mansion. She wouldn’t allow herself to linger, for deep down, Diamond Tooth knew whatever future awaited her beyond this veil was far better than any outcome here. Taking advantage of their momentary distraction, Diamond Tooth slinked away unnoticed.
The moment Diamond Tooth spun about to flee, an ankou materialized.
Its billowing black cloak twined around the ankou’s form, thrumming with vitality. The ankou loomed high above her head, and its hood shrouded the spectral presence in an endless shadow, hiding the ancient spirit within its depths.
“Things which hath been without motion for millions of years hath come into life through thee.” The ankou’s tone carried an ancient power that rumbled deep into her consciousness like a colossal wave of ice. Its declaration persisted as an ominous warning, heavy with finality and despair, attaining a ringing quality as it resounded with certainty.
The atmosphere constricted as if invisible forces were compressing it, bearing down upon Diamond Tooth’s shoulders as if to restrain her.
Fear and expectation laced together in an invisible, acrid scent that Diamond Tooth had smelled many times before when she had been the instigator of terror in others. But now, the foul aroma of fright emanated from her ruach.
Diamond Tooth felt rooted to the spot and sensed the energy of the ankou pervading her ruach like a palpable presence. Her muscles coiled and tensed, ready to act on impulse at any moment.
A scythe materialized beneath the Aankou’s voluminous shroud, its gradual arc culminating in a behemoth blade at one end of the lengthy staff.
“Hail, mine scythe,” the ankou said, “which advanceth and beateth down opposition. I am stronger thereby than the strong, and I have more power thereby than the mighty.”
Diamond Tooth balled her fists, readying to discharge her bagh nakhs, though she knew she could not vanquish the ankou. Still, she planned to go down fighting.
The ankou slowly hoisted the scythe aloft and aimed it straight towards the void that would have been home to Diamond Tooth’s nephesh had she been born a mortal soul instead of a demon.
Sish. Diamond Tooth unleashed her bagh nakhs, discharging a flurry of sharpened metal daggers toward the ankou. They sliced through the air and met their target with deadly precision.
But as they flew, the ankou’s cloak of darkest midnight opened up, swallowing each dagger into its depths like a voracious beast.
“No evil thing of any kind whatsoever shall be done unto me,” the ankou said. “I shalt not have the festivals of demons celebrated on me in evil fashion. Thereby, thy knives shall be swallowed up. I shalt not then be gored. Cruel gashes with knives shall not be inflicted upon me. Violence shall not be done unto me, and I shalt not be destroyed. I, the ankou, death incarnate, the assessor of the holy offerings of all the gods, whose word is truth, and the lord of fealty to none.”
Diamond Tooth stood before her adversary with no weapons to fight back. The realization hit her hard—powerlessness seeped into her ruach like molten lava. There was no escape from this dreadful fate. Heka, beyond her understanding, was at play here, and she could not fight against its forces alone.
But she refused to give up now; failure was not an option. With gritted teeth and determination in her spirit, Diamond Tooth took a step forward, ready to face whatever came next.
The ankou’s sentient shroud swirled around the spirit once more before a brilliant orb of light shot forth from the scythe.
It burst into Diamond Tooth’s chest with unerring accuracy, and she crumpled to the grass in agony.
Her fingers dug into her chest as if trying to rip open her flesh and pluck the burning ember away.
She assumed her last moment had come, yet remarkably, she found no evidence of damage or bleeding—the orb had seamlessly meshed with her ruach without leaving a single sign of entry.
“What did you do?” Diamond Tooth said.
“I hath returned thy lumenite,” the ankou said.
Although the ankou’s billowing robe cast a veil over its face, Diamond Tooth could sense the sinister glee emanating from it.
A wave of ice-cold terror cascaded down her trembling ruach as if the heavens had descended upon her, ominously foreshadowing some unnamed malevolence.
The lumenite never belonged to her. Rowings had gifted it to her after he had pillaged it from one of the just during a random conflict in the wars. The lumenite should not have adorned her ruach. She could not fathom the impact it would have on her.
She laid a hand on her breast and sensed the lumenite fill the hollowness within, pulsing like an independent organ and resonating with every beat against her ruach like a nephesh. It felt alien and wrong.
“What’s it going to do to me?” Diamond Tooth asked.
“Let thy be carried away in mine boat,” the ankou said, “or be seized violently. I shalt return thee to the West. Never thy shall again be taken to the East to have festivals of the just celebrated on thee.”
The ankou’s arm rose hauntingly, its bony finger extending with sinister intent toward the ferry, tethered serenely at the bay’s harbor. Its spectral form hovered above the white void like a portent of doom cast upon a lone vessel on a bleak night.
