Regesanka: a visit to the city of the dead

I went from standing in a snowy forest to standing in what looked like a cave. I breathed, my breath no longer fogging the air. I reached out a hand, just barely able to see in front of me. There was light behind me, I could make it out on my fingertips.

Turning around I saw an entrance, or maybe an exit, to wherever I was standing. I didn't have to walk far to see that I was standing over a city. I stepped forward, passing a hand over my wet hair, the locks damp from the snow that had decorated my shoulders just seconds ago.

Below me was indeed a city. It had a green tinge to it, like all the lights were a neon color. I was sure it was a trick of my eyes, and I looked closer. An inexperience plane-of-existence traveler might have thought he was in Hell. I had been to Hell, and this was not it. This was similar, but not it.

Standing in the mouth of the cave, the city below me stretched out quite a ways. I saw rows of houses, or maybe buildings. It looked like it could have been France in 1789, it had a "French Revolution city" sort of look to it.

Looking down I saw what looked like a fairly natural path leading down to the city. It wasn't steep, and I started down. I had no idea what awaited me below, but I knew what I had come here for. One thing and one thing only.

Further down the path, the city got closer. I heard the chatter of voices, some shouting, like you would hear if people were selling shit on the street. The green tinge was still prevalent as I got nearer, and most of the buildings looked like there were made out of cobblestone and wood. Probably not good wood either, I noticed as I kept walking. The curve of the rock was starting to even out, and as I glanced down it looked like a path was worn into the rock, made by years of other people traveling the same way I was now.

I saw then a person, walking ahead of me on the slope. There was more light now, and the noise of the city was getting louder. Whoever walked ahead of me wore worn out clothes, and one of the feet was bare. It was also black, and looked rotted. This was the city of the dead after all, and I assumed them to be a soul. You might be thinking of a soul as a ghost, but you would be wrong. A soul keeps its solid body until it finds out why it died, and then it turns into that whispy shape that everyone associates it with.

Keeping my quick-seeming pace, I cleared my throat. The soul only kept walking, the tattered black coat it wore hanging past it's knees. It almost hobbled, walking with an uneven step if nothing else.

I cleared my throat, again, but to no avail. With a light sigh I said aloud,

"Hey!"

The soul, still walking, only turned it's head some. I saw the side of it's face, it was a woman, was thin and looked malnourished. She had stringy black hair that was blading in the back, and I wondered where she had come from; how long she'd been dead for.

I shook the thought away, leaving it to the Reapers. They collected the souls that Death himself couldn't go after because he couldn't be everywhere at once. Yes, he was Death, but claiming a soul to send to Regesanka took a physical appearance; like showing up to an autograph signing. Therefore Death had his Reapers: a group of individuals who went around the world, claiming souls that would go to the land of the dead to find their true calling. In the end, it's the same for everyone.

Still walking, I decided to ignore the soul as she kept walking. My question would only be asked to Death, and I needed to know where to find him. It wouldn't be at an entrance tot he city, that was for sure.

There was another soul up ahead now. I was walking faster than normal, but I wanted something. I had drive, a purpose at that, and I wasn't leaving until I had just that. A soul of my own, to take back to the world of the living and bring back from the dead. There was a process for this, and it started with taking the actual soul of the person you wanted to bring back. This was that start.

The city was almost upon me now, I walked in the vicinity of the two other souls that were approaching an open pair of gates. They were set up like castle gates, something you see out of a children's book with a dragon and all that nonsense. I had seen a dragon before, but had yet to hunt one. That was one of the biggest honors as a monster hunter to hunt a dragon. Even a wyvern would have done, the latter being less dangerous than an actual dragon.

The city gates drew nearer, and I reached up to pass a hand through my hair. I was apprehensive, that could have been read on my face. I wanted to get in and out of here, but I was sure that wouldn't happen. My life revolved around getting one thing done, and having to do another thing to accomplish the first thing. A never ending side quest, some had called it.

I was at the gates then, and I watched the souls in front of me. I was a human, but had gained clearance "legally" to pick a word. Dying would have brought me here as well, but a living soul in the world of the dead was a different kind of journey. I was here for a purpose, as were the souls that would soon be all around me.

Armed with a silver blade that could cut through thin trees like butter, I wasn't to worried about any kind of threats. It was a possibility, but having never visited the land of the dead I wasn't worried about hostility.

I started to slow down at the gate. There were skeletons at the gates top, wearing what looked like metal armor from a Crusade or two. They gazed down at me, there eyes bright blue and seeming to look through me.

Adjusting my gaze I looked back at the gate, and stepped forward. I walked along the path, and passed under the gate. I felt a weight on my chest, like someone had dropped a dumbbell down my stomach. I licked my lips, tasting the cool air around me. I wondered for a second what the dead tasted. Paper? The last thing they ate? I wasn't sure, but one day I would find out the proper way.

I was through the gate, and into the city proper. I slowed my step some, wondering where I was going next. There was souls all around, some carrying baskets or boxes in their hands. I saw other guards, skeletons that was distinguishable from the rotting, dead corpses that walked around. I had heard rumors that Death's Reapers would patrol the city occasionally, but I was unsure of what they looked like; I had heard different things.

Picking up my booted feet again I walked into the city entrance, I was sure it had more than one, and I looked for some kind of sign. I wood sign, not a magic one. There was a well in the city center, and two boney, skeleton guard stood near it. They looked around, but one of them looked my way as I came closer.

The other one had his head almost all the way turned around, but snapped it around to face me as I came up to them, about eight feet away. I gazed at them, taking in their worn out clothes and metal armor pieces. Did Death only take fallen warriors from centuries past as his city guards? I wasn't sure, but approached them without any inkling of fear. I had taken apart a skeleton before with a single kick, though I was thinking that Death's guards were a bit more than just "normal."

I cleared my throat and took a step closer, then dared to ask,

"Where can I find Death?"

They both kept their gaze on me, but one of them cocked his head to the side, as if my own head was on crooked.

The other one turned his head some, looking past his buddy. He held out a grey, dirty arm and stretched it out, pointing through the rest of the city. He looked back at me, then opened his mouth to a screeching sound. I winced at it, the noise was like nails on chalkboard, but the chalkboard was on fire.

I stayed where I was as the skeleton lowered his arm, resting its hand back on the hilt of the sword on it's hip.

A second passed and I took a step to left, making to start walking past them. The pair of skeletons looked at me until I was walking past them, picking up my feet to get moving. As I was walking past they looked at each other.

I didn't see them laugh, but the chortling the pair made echoed around the square, sending a chill down my spine. I had no scope of how big the city was, and all I could do was start walking.

So that's what I did. The cities green hue never faded during my visit, and all around me it looked like it had come out of a place in Norway, or France, or maybe the 1779 American Colonies.

Most of the homes were made of wood, and some of them had cobblestone foundations. The doors were made with long lengths of wood hammered together with other slats of wood going horizontally. Some of the windows had bars in them, as if they were part of a bad neighborhood.

Chimney's on some homes exhausted smoke into the air, and I looked up at one, wondering where it went. Was there some kind of day and night cycle to the Land of the Dead? Did the dead sleep? Did they work? Did they preform daily chores, like gardening or running errands. If this was where I was going when it was my time, I would have the rest of my life to ask all these questions. For now I was only a demon in the body of a Human. So much more than I had been a year ago, but still not fully understanding what my Mistress had in store for me.

That wasn't what I was here for, either. As I kept walking through the streets I passed many homes, most of the dotted with the dead outside. They stood at stalls set up in front of doors, and some of them called out about something they were selling. There was a system of exchange here, that much was evident. They all wore shabby clothes and worn out boots or shoes. I even saw children, groups of them running past me, or standing by themselves or walking around. No sane person would have lasted more than five minutes here.

Again, I was now a demon within a Human body. Killed while fighting a heretic of an evil witch, who had pity on me. She was potential in me, and brought me back with a drop of her blood. Now I had power beyond my normal limits, and had plenty more to learn. An Egyptian goddess of death, Izilath, was now who I answered to. I had never had someone that I pledged loyalty to before, but the concept was easy to understand. I did what she asked, and she left her power within me and kept me alive. It could have been taken away in an instant, and the concept of instantaneous death was enough to keep me in line. I would be a fool to give up this power as it was, casting it away for a normal Human life; I was stronger than I'd ever been.

I was deeper into the city now, and the houses and shops started to get more clustered together. Some homes were two stories high, and faces peered out of the windows at me on the street. I felt their eyes on me, set into dark and rotted skin as they did whatever they did here. Lived, for lack of a better word. If you went to the Underworld, you were either dead, or on your way out the door.

The streets were uneven, like the path leading down to it had been. There were horse drawn carts that went this way and that way, pulled by healthy sized black horses that had very skeletal bodies. As if the skin was simply stretched over the bones, and they were attached to the carts and cracked with the whips that some drivers held. I again wondered about the hierarchy of power here, but knew, in my soul, that Death was the final word for any sort of... anything.

* * *

There was a lot of walking for me in store in Regesanka. The city was quite large, and I wondered how far I had walked before I saw the gates of the fortress.

That was the best word to describe what I saw, just ahead of me now. The homes were spread out again, and not as worn down as those that I had initially seen when arriving. Some of them had planters in the windows, and a few of the second stories had balconies on them. There was even a bar on my left, lit up with a white sign above the wooden double doors on its front.

I gazed at the fortress ahead of me now. There was a wide fountain just before a bridge that lead to the place. The fortress was almost as black as the top of the place I was in, and it had the same green, glowing hue the rest of the city did. It was almost identical in it's design, but there was a tower closer to the back on the right of the place.

Taking my gaze back to where I was walking I passed the fountain, the water gently trickling out of the mouths of designed skeletons. They circled the middle of the fountain design, all of them resting a large platter on their collective heads. On the platter was the hooded head of what I assumed was a depiction of Death. Having never seen the figure, I wondered if he really wore a hooded cloak, and carried a wheat-harvesting scythe.

There were four guards who stood evenly spaced at the start of the bridge. They weren't skeleton's but shadowy figures who wore black armor. They had no facial features, as I got closer two of them they moved two halberd, the long handled weapons blocking my path.

I stayed where I was, the black hilt of my sword equally matching the color of the guards "faces." They all seemed to look at me, and look past me at the same time. I made to open my mouth, but one of them held up a hand, the gauntlets they wore adorned with spikes.

One of the guards made a distant, groaning noise.

Another guard held out his other hand, pointing at me with a sharp finger.

"Where do you seek to go?" he asked in a distant voice.

"I seek Death," I said without any waver in my voice.

Another chill went down my spine, and the guards all made a gasping, laughing sound. I narrowed my eyes at them, reaching up a hand to pull down my hood and run a hand over my short red hair.

One of the guards looked at the other ones, making a growling noise. The guard looked back at the first one, and made the some noise again.

They did the noise again, one of them gesturing slowly to me. They were not a fast group, and I wondered what it was like to watch them fight. I didn't intend to find out unless I had to.

The guards looked back at me, then pulled their weapons apart, tapping them on the ground. The first guard gestured behind him, towards the fortress.

"Inside, Patrick McCulligan of Ireland. Acolyte of Izilath."

I squinted at the guard as he recited what I knew I already was, and then I stepped forward. I walked past the guards, and started to head across the bridge. It was about ten feet from left to right, and I looked over the edge I saw a river. It was green, like everything else here, and looked like it was a long way down.

Still looking over the bridge I heard a distant scream. I watched a brighter swirl dance in the river, then a flash of green light. I watched it start to rise, and I stepped back as it flew past the railing of the bridge, moving incredibly fast. It still screamed as it flew past me, and arched away and into the fortress. It flew straight for the large front doors, and passed through them without the doors opening an inch. I stayed where I was, a trail of a haze in the air, like the trail of a jet plane.

I started walking again, my boots almost crunching as I walked over the bridge. The stone was old and worn down, but the bridge looked like it had been here for years. I saw a hole nearby that was big enough for me to drop into, and I wondered what had made it.

I was nearing the large, black doors that were the front of the fortress now. There were squares set into the doors like old style castle doors had, and I didn't see any kind of handles to open them.

Further down the bridge the large doors got closer, and I looked at the rest of the place. There were battlements at the top, cannons that looked like they'd come off of pirate ships. I couldn't make out any figures at the top of the wall, but I assumed they were there. There were torches burning on the fortress' outer walls, and it looked much more ominous than when I had been further away. I wondered what was inside, but knew I would find out soon enough.

I was close enough to the doors now that they seemed as tall as the walls. I wondered for a second about how I was supposed to open them to get inside. I didn't have to wonder long, however. The doors shook gently as they started to open inward, creaking with the sounds of very old metal. They almost screeched, singing their song of an entrance that might not guarantee an exit.

Keeping my same pace I approached the doors as they continued to open, coming all the way open to show me the entrance to the fort. It had a high ceiling inside, lit by iron chandeliers that hung by chains from the ceiling. I was at the gates now, and I passed through the open doors to step onto a smooth stone floor. It was well lit inside, well enough I could make out wooden doors set into the walls, and a stairs case that led upstairs, going left and right to a second level of the place.

A little further inside of the main area, the doors creaked again, starting to shut behind me. I turned, reaching up a hand to draw my sword. The doors moved faster, and shut with a dull boom of a sound.

Turning back around I kept my sword in hand, angling it to line up with my right forearm like I had taught myself. It was an odd stance, but it worked for me. I had perfected the technique of a forward slash over the years, following up with a flurry of small swings and slashes after the first initial hard swing. I had been fighting for a long time, and always had time to practice.

Looking the room over I felt like I was the only one inside. To rectify this I held up my left hand, waving it with a flex of my fingers.

A blue wave flew over the ground for a second, then stopped and vanished as soon as it had started. I blinked, then did the motion again. Again, the blue wave was stopped just as it started and I scowled at the floor. There were magic barriers in place, and that made sense. Death was the ultimate power, and I was in his front yard.

I stepped forward, then felt a chill go down my spine again. It was cold in here, despite my being clothed in a long coat and thick pants. I flexed my toes in my boots, then heard a howl from the fortress. Somewhere, but not somewhere that was far away. It sounded like it had come from behind me, but as I spun around I saw I was still alone.

Facing back around the other way, I almost swung my sword. Another chill swept into the room and now I wasn't alone. There was a tall, black clothed and hooded figure standing in the room with me now. Death.

I stood where I was motionless. I blinked, then licked my lips. They felt dry, and I only stood there. I wasn't afraid, but I was also smart enough not to make any moves.

Death stood where he was, his hands in front of his body like a monk would hide their hands in their robe sleeves. I watched him stand there, then he made a motion like he was going to sit down. He stood about six feet taller than myself, but as he lowered himself into seemingly nothing, his figure began to shrink back some.

I heard him make a throaty sound, and a chair appeared from thin air. Not a chair, but a throne. The back grew into a bone shaped thing, with skulls for Death to rest his hands on.

He sat down then, leaning back in the throne as he settled back. I stood in the same stance, fighting ready, but didn't move an inch. Death was sitting back now, almost looking relaxed.

He shifted in his seat some, then held up on finger as it came out of sleeve. He waved it through the air, and the staircase behind him changed. It faded away, like it was being washed away by rain. His head moved some, then he said aloud,

"You have come for your lover."

His voice sounded like ice being poured down my shirt, and I swallowed.

"Yes," my voice cracked.

I stood there, at my strongest yet, and still felt very insignificant in that same moment. Death could have killed me with a crack of his knuckles.

The area behind Death turned into a green wall. It swirled into focus, with white figures swirling within it. I saw faces, and the depth of the wall was made apparent as it came further into focus. There were years of death within that wall, I saw it as they moved past. It was Purgatory, the place between life and death. A place the dead went when they weren't sure what had caused their demise.

Death stayed in his throne, but raised a hand to hold it up. He held up his hand like a cup was supposed to appear, and I watched him with a mild fascination.

From the wall a space was made, like something was supposed to walk out of it. The wall shifted, and I heard a scream. It made my ears curl inward, because I knew the scream. I had heard it only once, right before Shayine died by the hand of the witch Izilath.

A figure was moving gently through the wall, but at a good pace. I watched it become clearer before it reached the edge of the wall, and it stopped. I starred at her, Shayine. Her body was a whispy shape, her body see through and gaunt looking. Like she had seen a thousand spirits in the dark, and they had whispered the worst possible things to her.

"Give her back," I spoke before I realized it.

Death only gazed at me, and from the wall I heard Shayine call out to me. I didn't hear her words, but her hands pressed into the wall, like it was a glass cage, and she was the animal I wasn't supposed to to able to touch.

"Giver her back!" I raised my voice then.

Death only stayed where he was, sitting down with that easy posture. It made me angry, but I stayed where I was. He made a raspy sound then, and asked with a low voice,

"Why?"

"I need her," I said.

"Why?" Death asked again.

"She's part of me," there was a waver in my voice, "I have to have her."

Death moved his head maybe an inch, his hand still upheld. He moved his hand gently downwards, and Shayine moved forward, his legs not controlled by her own body.

She passed through the gate, and I took a step forward.

"Please," I whispered the word, holding out a hand to her.

She kept coming forward, away from the wall. Her whispy form started to fade, and she started to twist into a different shape.

"NO!" I shouted then, and threw my sword.

I didn't even think about the move, but my sword left my hand, flying through the air in a fast and vicious spin.

Death didn't even flinch as my blade reached his face, and it passed through him. It was like I had waved my hand through smoke. I kept my hand up, and the blue hue danced over my sword as it spun around, coming back to me.

The weapon slid through the air and I caught the hilt, angling it back into the same stance I had been in. Death sat in the same place, unfazed by my harmless attack.

I let out a breath, fogging the air in front of my face. Shayine's form was more a sphere now, a whispy shape that danced in the air just a few feet away from me. Her shape drifted closer to me, and I watched it come. I looked away at Death, and he tilted his head before he spoke.

"It was not her time," he said, "but she must be replaced. The balance must be maintained."

I starred at him. Shayine's shape was next to me now. It moved up to my face, touching me with a chill and cold that I hadn't expected. I reached up to touch the shape, and her essence moved in my hand, like a dog licking your fingers.

Still starring at Death, he tilted his head the other way, then repeated,

"The balance must be maintained. Bring me another, and you will shall have her again. Bring me the soul of your Mistress."

"Izalith?" I said her name like I'd never heard it.

Death moved then, leaving his throne to come sweeping in front of me. His height lowered to meet mine, and his hood came down.

His face was a skull. A bleached white skull, the eyes a black gaze that looked right through me. His teeth were all fangs, pointed and sharp. He looked in my gold eyes, cocking his head to the side.

"Do not speak her name," his mouth didn't move as he spoke, "you are here pet, her plaything."

He turned around then, sweeping away as he drifted back to his throne. He spun around and sat back down, his height returning to what it had been when he first appeared.

He sat back down, his hands reaching out to grip the skulls on his throne. They were shaped like those of Early Man had been, the elongated skulls and misshapen teeth.

"Bring the witch to me," Death whispered, "and you will get her back."

His finger extended to point at Shayine's essence, and I looked at it. I moved my left hand, looking back at Death. He only stayed where he was, and I reached into the inside of my coat. I poked my fingers into the inside pocket, and found a small glass vial. I had many more things inside the pocket, but I only needed the vial.

I held it up, and looked at the sphere that was Shayine. The ball moved away some, and I wiggled the vial. Her essence moved closer to the vial, and then it moved inside the glass container. A cork materialized to seal the vial, and the baseball-sized essence conformed to the smaller space, shrinking down in size.

Holding the vial in my left hand I looked back at Death. He only sat on his throne, and I swung my sword up and slid it away into it's sheath. As the blade disappeared into the leather holder with a click, Death held up a hand, waving me away. The gesture was lazy, but I turned around fairly quickly. It was time to go, and I couldn't have been more ready to leave.