As the cold embrace of death tightens its grip, Nihilothe's overwhelming presence fades away, and is replaced by something far more ancient, something primal. I recognize it immediately. Lord Death.

  "Clara Crowsong. You have performed the art of Animasculus Excidium. Soulburn."

  I nod weakly, already aware of the consequences of my actions. My soul is forfeit; there would be no afterlife for me.

  "Your sacrifice has not gone unnoticed, but it is time for you to face the consequences of your actions."

  As I take his hand, we are transported to a vast expanse, and a murder of crows swirl overhead, like a living tapestry of darkness. Slowly, they descend, their forms shifting and changing until they reveal themselves as members of the Crowsong clan, long since deceased. Each one an ancestor from ages past.

  Many of them stare at me, puzzled by my appearance. With my short, bloodied hair and numerous scars, I was a far cry from the young girl they'd once known. But from the crowd, a familiar face emerges. Ethel, my dear nanny.

  "Clara!" she cries, tears streaming down her cheeks as she rushes toward me. "It's truly you! What happened to your hair?" Her hands reach for a pair of pigtails that are no longer there.

  "Ethel," I whisper, embracing her tightly, knowing our time together would be short.

  "Look at you," she murmurs, tracing a finger along one of the larger scars that marred my face. "What has become of you, child?"

  "War," I reply simply, the weight of my past heavy in my voice. "I fought, Ethel."

  As Ethel holds me close, the murder of crows around us begins to transform, revealing more familiar faces from my past. My eldest brother Gabriel steps forward, his stern expression softening as he takes in the sight of me. He’s not quite as tall as I remember him being, but he still towers over me by at least half a foot, and he’s twice as wide.

  Gabriel says nothing at first, and instead extends a hand. Despite it being the size of a small boulder, it’s gentle as it ruffles my hair. "You've grown."

  "Gabriel," I whisper, tears brimming in my eyes. I knew how much I had changed since he last saw me. The innocent girl he had known was long since gone, replaced by a battle hardened warrior.

  "Clara, what happened to you?" Elias asks, concern etched across his face. He wasn't nearly as tall or imposing as Gabriel, but he was easy to spot in the crowd. If it wasn’t for his sacrifice, I wouldn’t have been able to have gotten as far as I did.

  "I...I had a really rough time."

  "Your scars," my father murmurs, his voice tinged with an unknown emotion. "You truly survived all of that?..."

  "Enough," Death announces, his tone silencing the questions that swirl around me. Raising an arm, he reveals a darkness that seems to shimmer with a life of its own. Upon closer inspection, it takes on the form of a slideshow that reveals my final moments. The battles I had fought, the enemies I had bested, and the sacrifices that had to be made.

  "Behold," Death commands, his voice echoing through the realm. "A proud member of the Abyssal Requiem, Clara Crowsong, who led an army against the Seven Kings and met her end upon the battlefield."

  As my family watches in stunned silence, I can practically read the emotions on their face. Maybe a bit of Nihilothe wore off on me before I passed?

  Gabriel's eyes are full of pride at what I had accomplished, yet sorrow for the hardships I had endured. Ethel allowed herself to breathe each time she saw me scrape past death, but her smile lessened at each sacrifice I made along the way. I knew that they would never truly understand the choices I had made or the path I had walked, but I didn’t need their understanding now. What I needed was their love, just for a moment, and I had it.

  "Clara, I never imagined you as the type to lead an army," Gabriel says, his voice tinged with admiration. His strong arms enveloped me in a protective embrace, as if he wanted to shield me from the life I had lived.

  "Neither did I," Elias adds, his usual humor absent for once. "You went further than any of us could have, that’s for damn sure."

  My father's eyes catch mine. I notice the trembling in his hand, the quiver of his lip, and finally, he turns away as Ethel wraps her arms around me.

  "You fought well, Princess. If only we had been there, maybe things would have been… I’m sorry."

  "No, it’s okay. Thank you, all of you," I whisper, a single tear rolling down my cheek. Deep down, I know their admiration and pride could not save me. My choices had led me here, and I couldn't escape the truth of it all: I hadn't done enough.

  As my family begin to prepare for the celebration of my arrival into the afterlife, I feel a cold, bony hand on my arm. Turning, I find myself staring into the hollow gaze of Death.

  "Clara," he murmurs, his voice barely audible over the sounds of laughter and excited chatter. "I cannot allow you to be here any longer. Your soul has been destroyed."

  "No time for goodbyes?"

  "No, there is no more time," he replies, a hint of genuine sorrow in his tone.

  "But I haven’t seen my son yet..."

  I can tell by Death’s grim expression that this is of little consequence to him, though.

  Together, we slip away from the gathering, my family's laughter and warmth receding into the distance. I steal one last glance at them before they disappear from sight. As we vanish into the shadows, I hold onto the love they gave me, knowing it would help me for what was to come next.

  "Your soul... it is gone," Death murmurs, his voice echoing through the darkness. "But fear not, you will not be forgotten."

  Before I’m able to respond, a brilliant light pierces the gloom, causing me to flinch away.

  He’s here again, and I can’t help but frown as he makes his entrance.

  A figure, as dark as midnight, descends upon us. A devil of the highest caliber, his wings stretch across the sky and gleam with otherworldly power.

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

  "Who dares to trespass in my domain?" Death snarls, his scythe materializing in his skeletal grip.

  "Out of the way, oldtimer," the devil retorts, and his gaze falls to me. In an instant, he grabs hold of me. His touch sends a shiver down my spine, and I freeze. Despite my hatred for this creature, I find myself unable to resist him.

  "Wait!" Death bellows, swinging his scythe in a desperate attempt to free me. But the devil evades his attacks with practiced ease, his wings carrying us upwards, and out of Death's reach.

  Even in the face of Death, I could never truly die. This is my curse.

  Death’s realm falls away, and I blink, disoriented. When I open my eyes once more, gone are the shadows and the chill; instead, I find myself in a strange, sterile room that bore no resemblance to the world I know.

  No matter how many times I come here, it’s always a strange sight.

  The walls here are adorned with peculiar rectangles that flicker with vibrant colors, and a small box in the corner emits a haunting melody that sets my teeth on edge. On a table nearby lays a yellow, wooden quill, its ink mysteriously absent. A door stands opposite me, and above it hangs a sign that reads "Occupied"; its once bright letters have dulled with time.

  As I take in my surroundings, the devil releases his hold on me. I feel a mixture of gratitude and trepidation swell within me. I know he won’t do anything to me, but I feel uncomfortable around him nonetheless.

  "Go," he instructs, gesturing towards the door. The sign above the door has scrolled to the side and now says "Enter".

  I do as I’m told, and enter the peculiar room. An invisible force seems to constrict around me, as if squeezing the last vestiges of life from my weary form. My gaze falls upon the bizarre figure seated across from me; a being that has haunted my existence through countless lives and wouldbe-deaths. He is an enigma, his presence is both comforting and unsettling to me all at once.

  His form consists of a large, dark tuft of fur that seemed to absorb all light in the vicinity. Golden horns gleam on either side of his head, framing red eyes that stare me down with an intensity that is difficult even for me to endure. It had been many lifetimes since he last spoke to me, but now, those unyielding eyes bore into my soul with renewed interest.

  "Clara Crowsong, this is your ninety-ninth death."

  "I know that already…"

  "Your final life begins now, on the night of the Solstice of Souls," the devil continues, his tone devoid of emotion. "There will be no more going back for you, Clara. This will be your last chance."

  My fingers ball into fists, nails digging into my scarred palms as I try to anchor myself. Every time I’m in this devil’s room, it’s as if a calm washes over me. I don’t get too excited, and I don’t get too upset. I agree with what he has to say, and I let him send me on my way. It’s only afterwards that I can reflect on how much I truly hate this…this thing that's trapped me in this cycle. If I had to guess then it was likely a type of magic, but I’ve yet to encounter magic like this in any of my past lives.

  "Make the most of what remains, Clara Crowsong," he warns, his gaze never wavering from mine. "You have been granted a reprieve that few will ever know. Do not squander it."

  Something’s different this time though. There’s a little voice in the back of my mind egging me on. It wants me to stand up for myself, to get upset, no…livid is a better word for it. It wants me to question the cycle.

  "And what exactly is it that I’m supposed to do?" The words escape my lips before I have a chance to stop them.

  A whisper brushes past my ear, but I can’t make out what it says. I turn, and I see no one. There’s a change though. I feel as if I can speak freely now, and I’m beyond my breaking point.

  "Simply be better, Clara. Learn from your past mistakes and forge a new path forward. Only then will you find the peace you seek."

  "Find the peace I seek? What load of shit is that?" I bark, my hand shooting across the table to grab a hold of a tuft of the devil’s fur, "I’ve been patient with you. Ninety-nine lives I’ve been patient with you! Even with all your subtle, shit hints you gave me in the beginning. Even when you started giving me the silent treatment after my 30th death. You always send me back to that godforsaken night!"

  The devil’s face begins to contort into one of confusion as I’m finally able to speak up for myself. The invisible muzzle that had always been present in his realm has been removed.

  "I-It’s the ideal time! It’s the only time that the temporal distortion field is-"

  "I don’t care! You’ve put me through that nightmare time and time again. Every time I have to watch my family die, and I can’t do anything about it! I’m all alone in that world, every single time! And Gods forbid I try to tell anyone what's going to happen, because if I do…if I do then they… Why is this so unfair…"

  "Life is unfair, Clara Crowsong. Are you ready to go back now?" The door swings wide open behind me, and a gust of wind pulls at my back, attempting to eject me from the room.

  "I’d rather die!"

  Having become strong in this life, I’m able to endure it. Even if it feels like it’s going to tear me apart, I’d rather have that happen than go willingly.

  "I’ll just kill myself at the beginning of my next life if this is how you want to do things! Fuck you, and fuck this game of yours!"

  The devil glares at me, his eyes narrowing before the winds pick up. I’m dragged from the room one step at a time before being hurled out of the room, the door slamming shut behind me.

  Once again, my world begins to swirl, changing and growing in every direction. My body shrinks, and pain erupts across the surface of my skin as I scream out. I’m losing everything I had accumulated in this life. Every scar I had is erased, as if it had never happened. Every muscle, every spell, every aspect of myself, they’re torn from my body. I’m aging backwards, and at an alarming rate. The decades I had spent forging my body into a weapon left me, and the ashes of my soul are brought back together, undoing the effects of Soulburn.

  The only scars that remain now are those of the mind.

  I reach out into the vast nothingness around me. I had long given up on help from my patron deity, Death. He could never stop that devil from taking me away. I was certain I heard a voice earlier. The voice that belongs to the one that removed my muzzle, the voice that finally allowed me to speak my mind once and for all. There was another presence in that room, and I’d bet it all on that.

  Tears stream from my face as the helplessness closes in, and I pray for the first time in six centuries.

  "Fuck Death! You’re out there, aren’t you? I don’t care who you are! You’re the first God to give a shit about me, so I give myself to you! Body and soul, whatever it is you want. My future? My past? My present? No price is too heavy! I’ll give you it all!" I feel a chord snap deep within the recesses of my soul. I have forsaken my patron deity, and he heard me.

  Unless I restored this bond, I would be unable to use necromancy in my final life.

  "Well, I tried, and I failed, again. What's new?" I sigh, falling through the darkness as a bright light approaches me. Soon I would open my eyes, and awaken to the final night of my final life. If I was lucky, I'd at least be able to say my goodbyes to Ethel.

  But that never came.

  "There you are!" A voice calls out, and I feel a hand grab hold of mine. My body lurches forward, and I find myself back on solid ground.

  "What?..."

  I’m back in the devil’s room, staring him down as he rises from his chair.

  "You have a last life to live," he growls, clearly unaware of the electric tinge that fills the air around us.

  The silhouette of a woman brushes past me and she begins to mock the devil, making faces, and obscene hand gestures, but he ignores her taunts. At least that’s until she speaks.

  "And what of Karma?"

  I find myself speaking those same words, and I watch the devil’s expression change from one of anger to one of fear.

  The woman searches through the drawers of the desk until the very last one opens, and something illuminates the room in a golden radiance. When the devil looks at it he opens his mouth to scream, but we swap places. He’s in the doorway, and I’m standing behind the desk. I can’t help it, I find my hand being drawn to the drawer. No sooner do I touch the golden light, and an arc of electricity leaves the woman’s hand, sending the devil back into the void beyond the room.

  The door slams shut behind him, leaving me alone with the mysterious stranger, and the golden light.