Death is My Frenemy Rewritten (Book 3 of the Rewritten Death Chronicles)

Chapter 7: Ghosts

WELCOME, MY DEARS.

HAVE A SEAT, GET A GOOD SNACC.

NOW, HAVE WE DONE WHAT THE CREATOR DEMANDED OF US FOR THE PAST SEVEN CHAPTERS?

NO? HMMMMMMMMM.

WELL, YOU BETTER DO IT RIGHT NOW. OR ELSE THERE JUST MIGHT BE HELL TO PAY!! *DIMBFF TRAILER MUSIC PLAYS*

DO MAKE SURE TO VOTE, LEAVE FEEDBACK, AND ADD THIS DELICIOUS TOME TO YOUR LIBRARY. OH, AND FOLLOW ME. BECAUSE I DO ROCK, BABY.

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***

This place was a hell.

It had to be.

I stared down into the pool at the center of the Cruscellio's courtyard, replaying the nightmare over and over again.

No, last night hadn't just been a nightmare. Nightmares you could shake off and move on with your day. Nightmares were just an invention of your imagination. Nightmares weren't exactly real.

This had been real. This was his life. Real memories, real misfortunes, heartbreaks, trauma gripping his tainted soul. They'd bled into over each other last night, layered and wove together in tormenting chaos.

The Three Crawlers had warned me. They'd said I'd beckon creatures out of the dark whenever I fell asleep in the Unknown. Sleeping left me vulnerable to the Forsaken and other creatures that plagued this realm, and not all of them would be as helpful or understanding as the Three had turned out to be.

From what I understood from the First's riddle, sleep would be a powerful tool for me. In sleep, I could better cross the bridge between Death and I, where I would potentially be able to better communicate with him, or at least figure more clues as to why I was seeing these memories.

Through the chaos, I'd felt guided throughout that entire nightmare. I thought about the Book of the Dead, how I'd uncovered it in Phoebe's room of magic. Death's mother had some of the first pages of this deadly tome––she might have even written them herself–– which felt like an important discovery.

I'd also encountered a new version of Death. I pictured his Victorian styled clothes the crown on his head made of bones. I imagined his fangs flashing at me across the hallway like blades, and now he'd looked so cruel, as if he were punishing me, right before the flames consumed the hallway.

Burn it all, Faith, he'd said. It was the first time Death seemed to recognize me in the memories. And I almost wished he hadn't. Not through that version of him.

And from what I'd witnessed last night, I'd gotten closer to Death's dying conscious than ever before. I couldn't help but think there was a reason for that, too. Like there was some connection between me kissing Alexandru and what I'd seen. Was it possible that I'd awakened Death in some way?

But of course, there was a catch to all that I'd learned.

One wrong move, one wrong word, awake, or asleep, and everything could crumble.

I had to be careful. I couldn't just outright tell Death he was unconscious again because he'd surely turn to ash again.

I still had to be just as vigilant during the day. There had to be a deeper purpose as to why Death was reliving these memories.

Maybe once I found the purpose to all pf this, I'd be able to find the location of his corpse.

All I knew was, last night had given me as much hope as it did fear. I'd seen my Death. Even if he looked dead, empty, and terrifying, feeling like we were tethered together in this some way through this screwed up mess made me feel a little less crazy. He was out there somewhere, and maybe, just maybe, he was closer than I thought.