Sailor lay perfectly still and silent, camouflaged among the contrasting hues of the tall, black and white grass, convincing himself he had become indistinguishable from a lifeless body.
The wind, chaotic and unyielding, whipped through the wild grass, creating waves that seemed alive. Within this tumult, faint sounds began to emerge, weaving through the air like distant whispers, subdued conversations, and the ghostly strains of music, creating an otherworldly symphony.
Embracing the tranquility associated with death, Sailor shut his eyes, allowing the serene embrace of the imagined afterlife to envelop him amidst the boundless wilderness.
With a staff in hand, Agatha moved around Sailor in a deliberate pattern, tracing a circle around him thrice. With each step she took, runes etched into the earth below her glowed, casting an eerie light. Pausing by Sailor’s head, she planted her staff into the ground and extended her arms wide as if to welcome or invoke something unseen.
Suddenly, the wind intensified, carrying clearer and more distinct sounds. Duncan, observing the scene, anticipated the awakening of the “gatekeeper” of this realm. However, as abruptly as it had risen, the wind calmed, and the sounds faded into silence.
“...Hmm?” Agatha opened her eyes, a look of perplexity crossing her face, her brow knitting together in concern.
“What’s happening?” Duncan inquired, his curiosity piqued by the unexpected turn of events.
Sailor, still lying on the ground, cautiously opened his eyes, sensing that the ritual might not be proceeding as planned. He remembered Agatha’s earlier instructions to remain silent and immobile, so he communicated his confusion and concern solely through his eyes, daring not to move or speak.
Agatha, troubled, revealed, “At the final moment when we should have established a connection, I felt the presence of the realm’s ‘gatekeepers’. Yet, they didn’t engage with us; they simply departed.”
She continued, clarifying their original intent, “Our aim wasn’t just to be noticed. We needed the ‘gatekeeper’ of this side to reveal themselves. Even if they detected the feigned death, it should have prompted them to appear more swiftly, as a simulated demise is a grave offense, perhaps even more so than an actual death.”
Understanding the stakes, Duncan then realized the implications: “Ah, so our actions could actually provoke these ‘gatekeepers’?”
“Yes,” Agatha affirmed, “Should they discover our ruse, their fury would be immense.”
Duncan, taken aback, remarked, “You hadn’t mentioned this risk before.”
Agatha responded with a nonchalant shrug, “As long as we remain undetected, there’s no issue. But if discovered, I admit, there’s little I could do. I might not be able to confront them, but I am adept at escaping. Should it come to it, negotiating with the ‘gatekeepers’ is feasible. They’re reasonable beings who usually can be appeased after an initial fight.”
Now slightly wary, Duncan sensed that the situation was not as straightforward as he had initially believed.
Yet, without dwelling on his reservations, he redirected his attention to the immediate issue: the apparent indifference of the ‘gatekeeper’ to their staged scenario of death.
Agatha’s expression conveyed her resolve as she paused, deep in thought. Then, her gaze shifted decisively towards Sailor, and she broke the silence with a sense of urgency: “I’ll attempt the ritual once more. As soon as it concludes, you need to spring to your feet and dash back to our small boat as swiftly as you can—this action will disrupt the ‘passage’. Remember, do not look back under any circumstances.”
Sailor, clearly anxious, could only respond with a wandering gaze, prompting Agatha to seek a simpler form of communication: “I need clarity. Just nod or shake your head slightly.”
With that, the figure began to stride along the path, prompting Duncan and Agatha to exchange a glance before hurriedly following.
“The situation is somewhat perplexing,” Agatha whispered to Duncan as they walked, her voice tinged with unease. “The gatekeepers I recall... the ones from my memories, they don’t behave like this. Their presence feels off... Their actions and mannerisms are different.”
“The one who walked away earlier was strange as well,” Duncan added casually. “At least this one has chosen to appear and guide us. That’s something, given that we’ve reached a ‘deeper place.'”
“That’s precisely why it’s strange,” Agatha replied, her brow furrowed in thought. “The gatekeepers should easily recognize that we’re not ‘dead.’ Typically, they would inquire or negotiate before leading us anywhere... Yet, this one simply began guiding us. It’s as if he was expecting us...”
Duncan nodded, finding her observation logical. “Why not ask him?”
After a brief hesitation, Agatha looked up towards the tall figure, which had slowed its pace ahead of them. “Are you specifically waiting for us here?” she inquired.
The towering figure remained silent, offering no response as if Agatha’s question had fallen on deaf ears.
Unwavering in her determination, Agatha raised her voice after a brief pause, seeking clarity: “Do you recognize us? Can you see that we are not actually deceased?”
The imposing figure ahead halted momentarily, releasing a noncommittal grunt that sounded like “Hmm.”
Turning towards Duncan with a mix of confusion and resignation, Agatha speculated, “It seems this gatekeeper may simply be uninterested in our state.”
Duncan remained silent, absorbing Agatha’s observation. After a moment of contemplation, he directed a question at the gatekeeper: “Earlier, we encountered another gatekeeper who disregarded us and departed. There were mentions of others as well. Where have they gone?”
To their astonishment, the gatekeeper ceased walking, breaking his silence with a word that resonated deeply: “Funeral.”
Puzzled, Duncan queried further, “A funeral? Are you implying that the other gatekeepers have gathered for a funeral?”
“Yes,” came the terse reply.
“Whose funeral could it be?” Agatha inquired, driven by a mix of curiosity and concern.
“The Death God’s,” the gatekeeper responded, turning to face them. Under the shadow of his hood, the dull yellow glow of his eyes seemed to burn with a quiet intensity.
“The Death God is dead,” he declared, a statement that hung in the air with a weight that seemed to shift the very atmosphere around them.