Please, Leave One

Please, Leave One

by Michael Shimek

Every autumn, little demons run the streets with pitchforks and sacks of candy. Ghosts, witches, and pretty princesses ring doorbells in the hopes of receiving a tasty treat and not a nasty trick. Mothers and fathers wrangle these creatures in a tradition that lasts a single night.

Francis Baker loved traditions; he was all about watching fireworks every summer, he never forgot a loved one's birthday, and since the age of seven, he and his father would fish on January 1^st to ring in the New Year (preserved even after George S. Baker's death several years back). When Francis' only son had reached the age of understanding what it meant to dress up and travel door-to-door, Francis and Ely's mother had taken the child out for an adventure chronicled through forty-five pictures. The father and son had never skipped a year since.

Some traditions don't last.

"This might be my last Halloween with him, Sheryl. I don't care how late he stays out."

Francis huffed as he paced back and forth in the living room. The smell of old leaves and crisp air drafted through open windows, a nice reprieve from the lingering leather of newly purchased furniture. Ely's head hung propped on a windowsill, ears perked at the hoots and giggles of neighborhood children; a dragon's tail of green horns wagged with excitement.

"If you're going to steal my child away from me, then I'm going to make our last Halloween together a night he won't forget! I don't care if he has school in the morning!"

Francis wished he had a landline; hitting a button to end a call didn't calm the anger like a slammed phone into its cradle. Instead, he cursed under his breath and shoved the phone into tightening jeans that fit loose only a month ago--keeping weight after a divorce was hard, but losing custody of a child was harder. He shoved his wife from his mind and focused on what mattered.

"Say, little man, you about ready to go trick or treating?"

Ely's head swiveled and his eyes lit up. "Yeah!" A bucket in the shape of an orange pumpkin dangled from a wrist.

"Excellent! Let's practice the routine. You walk up to a house, knock or ring the doorbell, and someone answers. What do you say?"

"Trick or treat. Smell my feet. Give me something good to eat. If you don't, I don't care. I'll pull down your pants!" The five-year-old burst into a laughing fit, never-minding the failure to rhyme.

"That's my ferocious little dragon." Francis tucked back the patch of blond hair sticking out from under the green hoodie that was made to look like a dragon snout. "Now, remember to stay close tonight. This is a new neighborhood for Daddy, and I don't want you getting lost."

"I know." A chubby hand wrapped around Francis's hand. Just about out the door, Ely stopped and said, "Is this our last Halloween?"

Francis knelt by his child and stared deep into brown eyes as rich as the soil. "I will always take you trick or treating, even when you're an old man."

The little boy smiled. "That's silly. You're silly." He paused. "But you'll always take me trick or treating?"

"Always." Francis held back the waterworks. He stood back up. "Okay, little dude. You ready?"

"Yeah!"

Together, hand in hand, father and son continued a tradition

#

Francis wasn't sure if he was amused, frightened, or angered by the sign; he was leaning toward angry—the incessant buzzing in his pants from his wife did not help.

"Daddy, why is there a bowl of candy on that chair?"

"Well, Ely, sometimes when a person isn't home on Halloween, they leave out a bowl of candy for the trick-or-treaters."

"Is that what the sign says?"

He frowned at his son. "No. No, it's not."

Not a moment ago, Francis and Ely had strolled up to the lit house expecting the same routine they had repeated all night. Ely's bucket hung lower and lower as their adventure dragged on, and Francis knew they only had a couple of more homes before the plastic pumpkin overflowed with the five-year-old's ambrosia. The bowl of candy that greeted the two suggested the owners were not around but were kind enough to leave some treats for those who partook in the holiday. He was a bit surprised by how late it was and the amount of candy still in the porcelain dish, but he was even more surprised by the sign and writing scrawled in black marker.

Please,

leave one.

Perplexed, Francis wasn't sure if the owners had made a mistake, or if it was a crude joke to try and collect people's candy. The arrival of a woman and a little mermaid told him his answer.

Even before walking up to the house, Francis could hear the urgency and fright in their exchanged whispers. The mother pulled a candy bar from the little girl's pink pillow sack and left her daughter standing alone at the end of the sidewalk. Urgent legs pumped an attractive, yet slightly older (for Francis' tastes), woman to the house. She made an invisible cross with the candy bar and placed it among the others. About to head back to her daughter without even the slightest acknowledgement of the father and son standing on the front porch, Francis stopped her with his confusion.

"Wait! Hold on!"

The woman jumped and whipped around. Her frantic hands moved black hair out of her view, her face calming once she saw who had halted her escape. She tilted her head and looked at him. "Yes?"

"Sorry, I'm a little new around here." He stepped forward and produced a hand. "Francis Baker. I just moved in down the block, over on Eddison Street."

Although cold, a sweating hand (but also soft and delicate, he noticed) grabbed his and pumped it up and down. "Oh, right. Janet told me about you; she said she met you the other day, the one who brought you a salad. I'm Tricia." She gave a glance around his shoulder and at the house and said, "Why don't you come out onto the street sidewalk."

"Uh, sure." He grabbed his son's hand. "Come on, Ely."

"But my candy."

"Just grab a piece and let's go."

The child reached for the bowl, but a stifled scream from the woman made him jump and freeze; Francis about jumped himself.

"Don't!" She reached out an arm, as if touching a piece of candy would cause harm.

"Excuse me?" he said, making sure to stay a little closer to his son.

Her eyes darted back and forth. "I'd rather not discuss it this close to the house. Over here," she said, tilting her head toward the street, "and I'll tell you why."

Francis frowned but followed the woman. She looked decent enough, but sometimes crazy can hide under a thick disguise. His grip was firm around Ely's hand.

"So, that candy back there isn't poisonous or anything, is it?" he said with an uneasy chuckle.

She shook her head. "No, nothing like that. It’s just...no one told you when you moved in?"

He was a bit fed up with the woman's stubbornness. "Nope, and now I don't care. Come on, Ely, let's move on to another house."

A vice-like grip reached out and latched onto Francis' arm. "No! If you've been trick-or-treating in this neighborhood, or if you live around here, you need to place a piece of candy into the bowl."

"And why is that?" he said, pulling away from her invading touch.

Brown, sad eyes blinked at him. "It's the rule."

"What rule? Who lives there?"

Padded shoulders shrugged. "No one knows. Feel free to ask anyone, though. They'll all say the same thing. You leave a piece of candy, or else."

"Okay," he said, keeping Ely behind his legs. "You're crazy, and I'm leaving now with my son."

He began to walk away when she tried to grab his arm again; he dodged out of the way and she almost tumbled into the street. Francis held tight to Ely as he hurried down the sidewalk; the insane lady's pleas faded into the night.

"No, please! If you love your child, you'll leave one! Please, listen to me!"

After a moment of pulling his son along, Ely spoke up. "Daddy, what was that lady saying? Why didn't I get my candy? Can we still go trick or treating?"

"No, we're going home."

"But, Daddy—"

"I said we're going home!"

He didn't mean to raise his voice, but the night was not turning out how Francis had envisioned. The nagging of his ex, a crazy woman trying to scare him and his son, the whiney voice of a complaining child (even if it was his own): something in his brain had snapped.

Expecting sobs to follow his yelling, he was instead treated with a guilty silence.

A group of about eight to ten children rounded the corner. Pirates, fairies, and monsters all laughed and giggled with glee as they bumped their way by Francis and Ely. A larger gentleman huffed and puffed behind the little mob, struggling to keep up. The two fathers exchanged a glance of mutual understanding before passing each other.

"Those were some pretty neat costumes, huh?" Francis said, feeling bad for being short with his only child a few seconds ago.

He looked down, and Ely wasn't there. A plastic, orange pumpkin hung from his hand in Ely's place.

"Ely?" His head darted around. Ghosts ran and giggled alongside superheroes, but the small, green dragon that he called his son was nowhere. "Ely? Where are you? Ely!"

His pants buzzed, and even though he had ignored Sheryl for most of the night, an absentminded daze answered his phone. There was no need to say hello; the voice on the other end was instant. "Francis? Francis, are you there? Are you still out with Ely? If you two are still trick or treating..." She yammered on and on, but he was oblivious to whatever she had to say.

He stood alone on the sidewalk, a chill, a knowing, running down his spine that he would never see his son again.

END

Sanitarium Magazine Issue #32

Sanitarium Magazine issue 32 is out, and it has a story of mine in it. The story, "Avoidance," deals with the fear of death and what may live beyond in the afterlife. This is my 15th publication to date. Check it out!

Death Always Wins

Death Always Wins

by Michael Shimek

In the battle of life versus death, in time, death always wins.

#

Beneath a hooded cloak of silk as dark as twilight, beneath the shadows and ebony skin, a crescent moon of white and pointed teeth glinted off the glare of the falling sun. The figure stood atop a ledge of rock above her army of thousands, a goddess towering over her faithful followers and warriors. In her right hand, a staff made of black and green stone hummed with buzzing magic. In her left hand, a glass orb no smaller than an infant's head swirled with cloudy hues of blue. The wind was still, a peace and calm before the storm. The glow of dusk depleted under the north horizon, and night would soon claim the lands.

 It was time, and Para Tristle, ruler of the undead, was more than ready.

"Sir, we have news the king hides a secret weapon." Sergus strode up to Para's side, the only individual who would dare confront the most powerful necromancer to exist within written history. The second-in-command continued. "Locked within his walls--"

"Enough, Sergus," Para said, her blazing orange eyes set on the goal ahead. "There is nothing that can stop me now. In this last stage, I will become ruler of The Three Lands, and all will bow before me, before death."

"Sir, I really think--"

Para turned toward the man. As part of the undead, the soldier's was ashen, lacking the vitality of life. Adorned in spell-infused mesh armor and wielding a sword inscribed with markings to ensure reanimation of those fatally wounded, Sergus took a step back from the sorceress. He bowed his head, nodded, and left. Para gave her attention back to where it was needed, back to that which she planned to destroy, transform, and then rule.

Beyond her stationed army stretched Throw's Valley, a wide reach of desolate desert. A line of rock, sand, and stone cut between her army and the opposing army, a living military that tripled hers. Behind the larger army sprouted an enormous swatch of greenery. The dense and thick Impossible Forest was exactly that, almost impossible to traverse; a few safe paths weaved through the woodland jungle for the ordinary traveler, but those were heavily guarded. The forest acted as a barrier, a defense of mysterious magic and dangerous creatures surrounding the walled kingdom.

Para's studded nostrils flared as she seethed. The kingdom was a lie. It offered a falsehood for all those living within. Over the walls and up the hillside, a castle of spirals and spears provided a wealthy shelter for the person responsible for clouding the minds of his citizens: Emperor Vil. With a yell and a curse, the air fizzled, and lightning blasted from the Staff of Corun. The green bolt veered off and struck a place in the forest; the trees caught fire, but the flames were soon put out by the quick overgrowth. She had meant to strike the castle, but the distance was far and anger had muddled her judgment.

It didn't matter; the moment was right. The sun was gone. The universe sparkled in the sky.

In a deep, feminine voice, Para whispered a droning chant. The end of her staff pulsated a brilliant emerald. She increased the speed. Her voice became louder and louder. The beating light mimicked the chanting and it grew in luminescence. With a final roar, she gave the orders to begin attack.

"Show the living that death comes to all!"

The staff's light exploded outward and into the sky. It grew into an aura and melted with the atmosphere. Para's undead bellowed, raised their arms and swords, and charged across the desert. Like trickling grains of sand, the warriors stormed against the enemy. The emperor's army did the same. Each side collided in a harmonious clap of thunder. Weapons slashed, shields blocked, men and women fell, and blood rained to the ground.

Para smiled with glee. From above, she watched a new history unfold, paying close attention to where her expertise was needed. Even from such a distance, she could perform her duties. As the living succumbed to her army's sigiled blades, she plucked their spirits from the realm of the dead and brought them back to their corpses. She released the souls of the undead who could no longer fight; those with wounds too great that their physicality impeded a forward motion were left alone to rot on the sand. While her army grew, the other army dwindled.

A presence hovered behind her. "Sir, the first wave is making headway. In a few hours, your troops will arrive at the edge of Impossible Forest. Everything is going according to plan."

"Thank you, Sergus. Keep on eye on things," Para said, handing the swirling orb to the second-in-command. The Sphere of Perception--a whirling orb of visions--displayed whatever the holder wished, sometimes even future events. "Make sure everything stays according to plan. I'm going to lie down for a while. Fetch me if anything unexpected arises."

"Yes, sir." Sergus pocketed the sphere under his armor and ran off toward the troops.

Para yawned. Delving into the world where death roamed free tired her energy. She walked away from the ledge and followed a small path down that led to her tent. She passed under the flaps and entered her comfortable, makeshift abode.

Several candles lit with the snap of her delicate, but strong and fierce, fingers. Shadows danced against the blood red walls. Soft rugs made from the finest fabrics covered the floor to soothe her aching feet. A bed of blankets beckoned her weary mind. Various skulls sat atop tables and hung from the ceiling; they offered easy access to her practices. Books and scrolls also littered the tables and shelves. At any second, if she so chose, any number of servants could come in and wait on her needs and wants. She ignored everything in the tent except for the bed and crashed into its comfortable embrace. The staff slipped from her fingers, and sleep invaded her brain and body before it hit the ground.

Dreams of bringing the dead back to life filled her slumber; even in rest, her work was never done.

#

"Sir? Para? The second stage will commence in less than an hour."

The good news woke Para from her nap. She sprang up from the bed, snatched her staff, and was ready to dive back into her war.

"Sergus, excellent to see you." She patted her number two on the back. "I appreciate your wakeup call. May I have the Sphere of Perception?"

The man pulled out the crystal ball of whirling blue clouds. "Sir, I feel as if we should discuss the emperor's secret weapon. I have repeatedly tried to glimpse at what these whispers and rumors are all about, and every attempt has been unsuccessful in breaching the interior of one of the rooms within the castle. With a magic powerful enough to evade the Sphere of Perception's glances, I fear whatever the emperor has in his possession could possibly be of danger."

It was definitely something to be concerned about, for nothing that Para knew of could elude the orb's view. "I will look into it, Sergus. Thank you for bringing it to my attention. Now, report what you know."

"The troops have almost broken through to the forest. The emperor's army is fighting hard, but they are dying fast and quickly joining our ranks."

As Sergus talked, Para witnessed all within the blue swirls. Her army showed no mercy. A thin line of the living fought hard to keep rank, but they were either cut to ribbons or joined her army of the undead. The forest was within grasp.

"This is great, Sergus! Prepare the fire elementals. I want nothing but ash and dead roots left when they are through."

"Yes, sir. It will be done."

Sergus exited the tent. Para stashed the sphere in her cloak, stretched tense muscles, and did the same. A night of screams, wails, and war cries rang in her ears. She walked to the ledge. Fires dotted the desert, smoke drifted upward, and the smell of burning meat wafted with the cool breeze.

A smile crept along her smooth, dark skin; it was time to join the fun.

She journeyed down the mountain, through Throw's Valley and over the carnage. Those she passed saluted their commander, showing respect to the one who gave death to life, and life to death. Para strode through with a rigid sway, a flowing movement that promoted dominate elegance. People cleared a path wherever she marched. She made it to the edge of the forest just as her army was finishing off the last of Emperor Vil's soldiers. She located Sergus among a series of campfires.

"I see the elementals are ready," Para said as she approached.

"They are, sir. At your command, they will leap from their fires and devour the woods."

With a deep shriek, Para raised her staff and gave the orders. "Let it be done!"

The dancing flames twitched. Ropes of dull oranges, yellows, and reds snaked out of the coals. As thick as a person's torso, as long as the liquid serpents that slithered through Abyss Lake, the Tinefyra advanced toward the trees. Smoking lines of burnt grass and soil trailed behind. The air sizzled as they moved with grace. Usually too bright to look at with the naked eye, the undead fire creatures lacked luster, but they were just as hungry. The forest screeched while the beings from another realm feasted. Branches, vines, and leaves lashed out, but the Tinefyra scorched all.

Para walked up to the first smoking skeletal remains of a tree. She leaned in and savored the crispy flesh of leaves, bark, and wood. She located the dead energy and brought it back to the living realm. Other trees perished, and she found them one by one. With eyes closed and head bowed, she began the chant. The end of her staff became a green torch. As the chant ended, she struck the staff against the ground. The land trembled. Like cracks along glass, jade lines cut across the land and fused with the roots that dug deep. The smoldering ruins of the forest shuddered with new life, and just like that, Para had a new army of undead plant life. Blackened branches stabbed at their living counterparts, and dead roots choked the life from the breathing.

She was getting closer to her goal.

"Sergus, make sure everyone advances on the forest. With the elementals on our side, nothing will stand in our way. I want to crush the kingdom walls by sunrise. Is that understood?"

"It will be done, sir."

"Good." Razor teeth shone between her dark lips. "If you need me, I will be meandering about, joining the fun."

Sergus nodded and left. Fires crackled, and the living screamed; it was music to Para's ears. Her cloak flapped in the breeze as she strolled over to one of the roads that made its way through the forest and up to Emperor Vil's kingdom. Bodies littered the path, and burning trees lined the edges. In the glow of the burning forest, the new ruler traveled to her awaiting throne.

#

The walls were nearly in sight. Black smoke blanketed the air and sky, but the Sphere of Perception's blue billows indicated Para and her army were close. She made her way along the road, lobbing random bolts of lightning and balls of fire from her staff at anything living. Excitement grew. Amusement smeared her face.

A nearby presence scratched at her attention. Something in the throws of death clung to life in a desperate and pathetic attempt to stave off an inevitable demise. Para followed her mind and located the individual. The trunk of a scorched and fallen tree crushed a young faerie's legs. Burnt arms grasped for help. Melted wings fluttered in vain for flight. He screamed for salvation, but that screaming changed to terror when he saw the necromancer.

"Do not fear, faerie," Para said, sliding the hood from her smooth and bald head. With gold dangling from her ears and purple designs of ink tattooed on her scalp, the powerful woman was a beauty of force. "I have come to free you from this wretched life."

"Please, no! I don't want to die!"

"Your mind is misguided. Death is a natural part of every living thing, and besides, it is too late--you are dying."

"Oh, Emperor, no!"

Para spat at the faerie's broken legs. "The emperor can do nothing for you. Only death can give you immortality. Only I can offer the freedom of living forever." She bore into the Fae's eyes. "If I give you this opportunity, will you follow me? Will you stay by my side if I purge you of this pain?"

His eyes were filled with despair, but they also held an understanding of the situation. The torture was too much and he screamed, "Yes! Please, take the pain away!"

"It will be done, but remember your promise."

With a little incantation, the man's pain was gone and he was dead. The Fae were a bit harder to find in the underworld, shrouded in their own magic, but Para found him and brought him back. She set her staff on the ground, knelt down, rubbed a salve she kept in her cloak on the faerie's bare chest, and whispered one last spell. The boy gasped. As his skin and wounds healed, Para raised the fallen tree and watched the legs become whole. Raw and seared skin peeled away to a light green, the scent of rainbows wafted from flowing black hair, purple transparent wings flourished, and the undead flittered into the air.

"I'm alive!" The faerie looked at his healed body with wide and silver eyes. His young and babyish features returned. Then he frowned. "But I am dead."

"You are part of the undead," Para said, correcting him. "Do not worry, you still have your Fae magic; it's just not as strong, and I even healed you when I brought you back to this world."

"What's the catch?"

"Nothing," Para said and then added, "as long as you stick to your promise."

"What if I don't?"

"I could command you to follow my orders and worship me like a goddess, but I won't. I have faith in your agreement." Para picked up her staff and stood up.

The faerie hovered in front of the powerful sorceress. She could feel magic belonging to the Fae invade her mind and poke and prod around at her emotions. Para had every right to banish the creature from her thoughts, but she left it alone. He was harmless to her.

"Okay," the faerie said, "I'll join you. I'm Veen."

"Good. I am Para, your master, and soon-to-be new queen of The Three Lands."

"Yeah, I know who you are. Everyone knows who you are. You destroyed Galwind and Savbeth, and now you've come to destroy Zendonia. Emperor Vil has publicly condemned you and your evil practices."

Lightning crackled at the end of Para's staff in the form of anger, but she calmed her quick-tempered head. The faerie's mind was deluded, ignorant of the truth.

She set a hand on the flying creature and said, "Veen, there is much you need to learn."

The faerie shrugged it off. "I know plenty. I'm well over a hundred years old."

The anger came back, and this time a flash of electricity did explode from the staff. It struck nearby and charred soil rained down upon them. Para yelled, "You are just a blip compared to the age of this world! All you know is the reign of filth Emperor Vil has spewed and ingrained in his citizens!"

The flying Veen cringed but remained by his new master's side. "I am sorry," he said, bowing his head. "If this is the case, then I seek knowledge and ask for the truth, sir."

"Good. Now, come with me. You have potential, but there is much knowledge you need to acquire."

With that, Para had a new protégé to mold at her will.

#

The road twisted through the burning, overhanging overgrowth, leaves and limbs withering to the ground in flames and embers.

"Do you like being a necromancer?"

"Yes."

"What's with the staff?"

"The Staff of Corun--a staff forged from the hardest rock and made by the magic of dead earth elementals--guides my power to the land and my followers."

"How old are you?"

"Old enough."

"Can I look at the Sphere of Perception?"

"No."

On their way to the kingdom's walls, the faerie was nothing but curious questions--the Fae were an inquisitive bunch. She didn't mind, one can only learn by seeking out questions. It was how she had learned the truth.

"Have you always been a necromancer?"

"No, not always." They walked along the path, Veen flying every so often. The city's stone walls shone over the blazing forest; they were close, so close. "I started studying the art when I was young. When my parents sensed magic within me, they sent me off to become an apprentice. Of course, because of the emperor, most of my studies were biased. When I was stacking books as a young girl, I found an ancient scroll depicting several spells that delved into the forbidden dark magic. I was scolded and shut out from any scholarly school in The Three Lands. My studies didn't stop. I was drawn by knowledge, any knowledge; I wanted to learn it all.

"I found I wasn't alone in this quest.

"My teacher was Maron Berkwood, one of the most intelligent and capable wizards to ever exist." Para waited for the recognition in her new follower, but it never came. "He taught me much and sent me on the path to gather and learn from all over the lands. I had to hide my education in secrecy, in fear of the emperor's strict stance on the taboo subject. I once tried to approach Emperor Vil about the wonders of death, but he would have none of it. I was exiled from his kingdom, a shunned woman banished to the dead and barren wastelands of Voxtrith."

Veen's eyes broadened. "You survived the badlands of Voxtrith? No one survives the badlands of Voxtrith."

Para's smile was full of pride. "Thank you, but nothing is truly dead. You see, for in death, the energy of a living creature must reside somewhere. To rule and command this energy takes great power, and I spent almost a century mastering the mysterious black arts. It took another century to gather my army."

"You used Emperor Vil's eternal life spells."

"Yes and no. Those spells can help in the physical realm--how I healed your body, for instance--but only death offers a true type of immortality. You don't think this is my first body, do you?"

The faerie quieted, and Para left the conversation at that.

After a while of walking the road, the pair eventually emerged from the collapsing and burning forest. Dawn glowed from below the southern horizon, working its way up to replace the night. Para was right on schedule.

The wall towered before them. Colossal boulders sculpted from a magic-wielding mason's handy-work soared into the sky. A single stone outsized a normal person five-fold, and outweighed a normal person fifty-fold. Thick vines grew up the sides, and thriving moss filled the cracks. The gigantic wonder took decades to build, a true fortress of perfection.

"How will you get past the walls?" Veen asked.

"Very easily. How many men and woman do you think died putting together these stones?"

The faerie shrugged.

"Many," Para said with a smirk.

The necromancer walked up to the intimidating wall. She placed the end of the staff and her free hand on the smooth, cool surface. Souls trapped within the stones for over two hundred years screamed in agony for freedom. Para was about to make their prayers come true. Her chanting began. The Staff of Corun pulsed a meaty green. The walls shook and swayed, little bits of stone crumbling free. The magic was strong, but Para was stronger. New life was born, the slabs of stone reshaping and reforming to her will. The rearrangement brought about hulking legs to crush and mighty arms to destroy. Giants clamored for revenge, one for each soul that had perished during the emperor's demand for a fortified barrier. The mammoth creatures barreled into the city, citizens screeching for Emperor Vil and his promised safety. The ground quaked with destruction. With the walls no longer an obstacle, an army of undead men, woman, plants, and Tinefyra invaded.

"Whoa," Veen said in admiration. "Those are some vicious beasts."

Para nodded. She had wanted to free the imprisoned spirits since first passing between the walls over a hundred years back, but she had been young and unskilled in such sorcery. Now, the city would finally feel their vengeful wrath.

As the walls came to life and moved inward on the falling kingdom, Para advanced and said, "Come, our quest is not done."

Para traversed through the crumbling metropolis, the intrigued Fae always by her side. Buildings collapsed, the living burned, and blood showered the ground. The plague of death was abound, and life wailed in its throes. It didn't take long to reach the emperor's citadel; most fled from the powerful sorceress. The two merged with Sergus at the castle's gates.

She greeted her second-in-command. "Sergus! It is good to see you. The emperor's imminent defeat is near, and I was hoping you would by my side when I deliver the final blow to his reign."

The soldier's teeth brightened with eagerness. "Of course, sir. I would never miss what you have worked so hard for."

"What we have worked so hard for," Para said. "You are as much a part of this as everyone else."

"Yes, sir. Have you had any luck with the Sphere of Perception?"

"You mean with the emperor's hidden secret? None, but it doesn't matter. Whatever he has stashed away will not save him now." She turned to each of her disciples and yelled, "For death!"

Sergus and Veen followed in unison: "For death!"

The three stormed the castle. Green lightning and fire blasted forth from Para's staff, faerie magic launched from Veen's fingertips in the form of blue blasts of energy, and Sergus chopped down the enemy with his blades. They aimed for the keep, where the emperor would be holed up among the chaos. The throne room was upturned. The dining area was ransacked. Emperor Vil's army and employees were liberated and then reunited with their dead bodies. They marched through the halls until Para arrived face to face with the man himself.

Para blew open the emperor's bedroom chamber doors. With a single bolt of electricity connecting them all, she took down all eight guards with the Staff of Corun; the soldiers fell to the floor in a crisp--she didn't bother to raise them. Sergus and Veen stood by the door while Para strolled up to the fidgety emperor.

His features were that of a young man, despite the centuries his body had spent on the world. Cropped blond hair, smooth skin, a fit and toned body: an ignorant perfection. His sparkling blue eyes darted around the room. He opened his mouth to yell, but Para cut him off.

"Silence! Listen while I speak, for these are your last moments in this physical realm!

"For over two centuries you have ruled The Three Lands with biased judgment. The false hope that you instill within your citizens is a plague against what is right. You deceive people from the truth, that everything dies, and that everything must die. You help the wealthy and prestige, picking and choosing who will receive a longer and healthier life. Those who cannot pay for your rejuvenation spells are tossed aside. When they die, you keep their bodies as far away as possible so you're not reminded of the thing you fear."

The emperor's face twitched. Each of his index and middle fingers alternated tapping against his thumbs in rapid succession. He was visibly nervous.

Para raised her staff and pointed the flaming green end at the emperor's wide eyes. "Now, before you realize the true powers of death, speak your last thoughts."

The man's frightened face flipped, and a wicked smile arose on his chiseled cheeks. "Mayrim, now!"

Para sent a bolt of lightning laced with fire at the man. The emperor's death was fast, but very painful as he disintegrated to nothing but ash. Behind her, Para heard the sound of doors crashing open. A ruckus ensued, and by the time the last of Emperor Vil had melted to the ground, the fight was over. Para turned around and saw Sergus and Veen standing over a woman bleeding to death on the floor.

"This was the emperor's secret weapon," Sergus said, holding up a blowgun. He shuffled out a glistening and effervescent needle. He sniffed the poison and scrunched his face in disgust. "From the intelligence I've received, this is laced with a magic that would place its victim in a deep sleep that would last eons. Empires and cultures would come and go, stars would fizzle out and die before the sufferer awoke."

Para understood. The weapon meant to imprison her spirit and energy within a comatose body. The sweet embrace of death and all of its wonderful properties would have been ripped from her entitlement; she would have been stuck in an immovable shell. The magic was old. Similar spells existed, but nothing as old as the one before her. How the emperor had succeeded in obtaining such a rarity was beyond her understanding. She gave the former emperor one last look and spat on his ashes.

"Sergus, I thank you for--"

A stinging pierced the back of her neck. Her mind clouded, and her body swayed with a strong numbness. She reached behind and plucked out the needle her right-hand man had held in his hand seconds ago. The staff fell from her grasp, and gravity pulled her weakening body to the floor. Sergus approached and stood over her immovable body.

Confusion struck. Sergus had been Para's second-in-command for over seven decades, a loyal soldier who had immediately embraced the eternal life death had to offer. With fading strength, her dulling mouth mumbled, "Why?"

The man's pale face smiled down at her. "Do you really have to ask? I've been taking orders from you since the moment you took me away from my family. I didn't ask for death, but you killed me anyway to prove your point. I went along with it. How could I not? You seduced me with your sleek allure, and then you tricked me into becoming an abomination. It was either this, or wasting away forever in a realm where all death roams in a shrouded mist of uncertainty. You know what? Not everyone wants to live forever. Not everyone seeks an eternal existence. I wanted to grow old with my wife, watch my children have their own children. You selfishly took that away from me. My wife and children would have never taken me back like this, like a monster in this world." He knelt down close and said, "I knew a moment like this would eventually come."

Sergus stood back up, chest puffed out with pride, and said, "Now that you are taken care of, I will rule these lands. I will become emperor and--"

A sapphire ball of fire slammed into Sergus. The man screamed and sailed out of the scene. Para could no longer move, and with limited view, her closing eyes could only see the stone ceiling. Something flew by and attacked Sergus, but the poison and magic coursing through Para acted quickly and darkness enveloped her.

#

"Sir? Can you hear me? Are you awake yet?"

Para's eyes flickered open. Adrenaline rushed from a distant memory of her second-in-command's betrayal. She pushed herself into a sitting position, but her body was weak and she fell back into the soft bed that supported her. Looking around, she saw the emperor's ashes on the floor, Sergus lying still in a broken and bleeding heap, and Veen hovering over her with a boyish and excited smile.

"What happened?" Para asked through a lingering grogginess.

"Sergus attacked you. He stuck you with that needle, but do not worry. As you can see, I took care of him. I also took care of that nasty poison and magic that was running through your system."

Para flexed her hands and muscles. She tested her mind and found she could once again travel to the domain where death made its home. The Fae were powerful and mysterious, but she had never known one who could heal such magic. "You did this?" she asked with awe.

"I told you," he said with the brightest of grins, "I know plenty of things."

Para returned the smile. "I knew it was a good idea keeping you around. Come, help me up while the rest of the poison and magic drain from my body." The faerie offered his hand and pulled the necromancer from the emperor's bed. Para stretched and patted her friend on the shoulder. "I thank you for your humble generosity, but I must ask, why? Why did you help me when you could have easily become the new ruler yourself?"

Veen shrugged. "You may be scary and intimidating, but so far you've treated me like one of your own, like a friend. You've shed new light in my thinking, and I wish to learn more from you, sir." He bowed to his new master.

Para's razor teeth glinted in the light. "My friend, I will teach you anything you wish to know."

"Good," Veen said, nodding in acceptance. "Besides, I wouldn't make a good ruler."

"Even so, I see much power and intelligence in you, and you will make a perfect companion by my side."

The faerie gleamed with pride. "Thank you."

Para nodded. "Follow me, and I will show you that which you will help me rule."

They stepped over the emperor and traitor's remains and made their way to the balcony. Para threw open the doors and stepped out into her new kingdom.

Black columns of smoke billowed into the brightening sky. Her army had transformed the vibrant and green forest into blackened, charred remains. Dwindling screams sang in the air. Chaos conquered as far as the eye could see. With the start of a new day, The Three Lands received a new emperor.

Death ruled the lands.

A small chant escaped the necromancer's lips, her voice amplified and echoed for all to hear. "It is I, new ruler of all, Emperor Para! A new reign has begun! A reign of understanding! A reign of learning! A reign of death!"

Cheers erupted from below. Para extended her arms and absorbed the praise and glory. The smile on her face tore into her muscles; her time as ruler would be long and just.

Death won.

Acidic Fiction

Acidic Fiction published a short story of mine yesterday. "Yearning for Life" is a free read, so head on over to AcidicFiction.com and check it out!