“Absolutely. I think there’s a lot we don’t understand yet,” I said. “Not just about this World Crusher, but about Biriane and the ghouls and the people who used to live here. How’d they all die?”
“The anthropologist inside you is dying to know more, huh?” A faint smile danced upon her lips. She was trying to find a sliver of humor in this hot mess.
“Admittedly, I am curious. More worried actually, but focusing on satisfying the curiosity kind of takes the edge off where we are, if that makes sense.”
“It does. This place gives me the creeps. The ghost of the past hangs on, screaming through this silence.” She exhaled, trying to push it all away, if only for a moment. “We have a walk ahead of us. I’ll take us to the riverbank, but we can do the rest of the journey to the Temple of Roses on foot. You heard Anunit. It’s best if we ease the ghouls into it. Personally, I’m dying to know more about them. I’ve never heard of ghouls being able to use scythes. When the ghoulish hunger takes over and eats away at the Reaper, the connection to the scythe is lost. The weapon rejects its owner because the spirit is unclean and festered. Sure, the ghoul can still carry it as an object, but he can never access its power again.”
She was choosing to focus on something smaller, more manageable, before diving into the issue of the World Crusher; it showed her impressive strength of will, as she refused to succumb to the rage.
We appeared on the edge of the dry riverbed, the low white brick wall just ahead, partially blocking our view of the street. The buildings rose beyond, square and simple in their design, their elegance unmarred by the passage of time. The facades were no longer polished, and I could see the stone bricks with mortar still clinging to them. The windows were tall, their frames made of black iron. Most of the glass had been broken, but chips glinted in corners here and there. White dust flew off every horizontal surface whenever the wind blew, the particles sparkling in the sunlight.
But it was the silence that stood out the most. The silence of a doom long gone, its memory lingering in what it had left behind. Death had washed over this world, and only the buildings and the streets and the bridges remained. The stone and the metal. The dirt and the sand. I wondered what these particular ghouls had to feed on… Their kind wouldn’t die of starvation, but there was plenty of suffering and further degradation. I imagined it depended on how “ghoulish” they were as well. I knew of the stronger types that had founded Nevertide, and I knew of the slightly more beastly types like Rudolph and the others from Visio, or Herbert and his sanctuary. Would the ghouls of Biriane be even more different?
Unending took my hand in hers, gently pulling me closer. She kissed me, and for a moment I forgot all about Biriane and its strange ghouls. My wife’s lips were soft and sweet, her love for me undying.
She pulled away slightly. “You’ve been my rock this whole time,” she said. “Don’t let go of me now.”
“Never,” I replied. “I will never let go.”
She smiled, and I knew we’d be okay. One way or another, we’d get to every truth that had been hidden. There was nothing the universe could keep from us.
Unending
I was angry. Boiling, my consciousness bubbling like a pot on a blazing fire.
But my anger served no good. Not to myself, and certainly not to the incredible creature who’d chosen me to love and to be with for the rest of time. My anger brought nothing useful to the table, and I dared not let it take over. No, we had come a long way. Death’s secrets were coming apart at the seams, and I wanted to know everything.
I was tired, too. Tired of the lies and unspoken truths. Tired of the hypocrisy.
Biriane felt like the epitome of everything I had come to despise Death for. The World Crusher had been brought here. Hidden and locked away, and I wanted to know why. As much as the mere thought of my maker irked me at this point, I had to admit that she’d often had solid reasons for doing what she did. The World Crusher’s incarceration was no different; there must have been a reason. I wanted to understand what had driven her to make such radical decisions.
It didn’t minimize the gravity of her deeds. Oh no, I dared hope the universe would eventually repay Death in kind for all the times she’d disrupted its balance for her own personal benefit—Thezin and the soul fae’s survival were two solid examples, and I had a feeling the World Crusher would turn out to be a clear third. I couldn’t help but wonder what other things she’d been keeping from me and every other Reaper in the realm.
Dwelling on the big picture was too much to handle—it only made me angrier. So I focused on the Temple of Roses. I focused on the ghouls and the city itself. On the stories that needed to be told. On the man who’d chosen to walk this world with me, to build a life and a family with me. It was infinitely better than giving into the anger that nipped at my nerve endings.
“They cherished their city,” Tristan said after a few minutes of silent walking. He’d been looking around, studying the details and drawing conclusions regarding this place. “A lot of work went into the architecture. No house was left on its own. Not a single wall or roof was allowed to digress from the overall aspect. Notice the metal roof tiles. The same type of stone bricks and white sand mortar used for the walls.”
I offered a faint nod. “I suppose they functioned on
