The Land of Death was never truly quiet. Even when the air stood still and shadows slinked back into the walls, there was always paperwork rustling somewhere.
And right now, that rustling sounded like the crinkling of doom for one rookie reaper.
Vanessa blinked at the scroll in her hand, then looked up at the two grim-faced messengers standing before her in matching obsidian uniforms. Their eyes, as always, were empty voids. No blinking. No emotions. No eyebrows. She missed eyebrows.
"...You want me to report where?" she asked.
"In the Department of Records and Oversight," the left one replied, voice like cold wind scraping stone.
"Congratulations on your ascension," the other intoned, as if she had 'died' again. "You have been... selected."
Vanessa squinted. "Selected sounds like a euphemism for targeted."
Neither messenger reacted.
Well. That was never a good sign.
---
The Council Meeting Room: 3rd Floor, Eternal Spine Tower
Vanessa had seen some impressive offices in her short time at the Bureau, but the Council's chamber reeked of you will never afford this carpeting. The entire room was carved into black marble, with veins of silver running through the walls that occasionally pulsed like veins.
Twelve high-backed chairs faced her, each occupied by an Elder Reaper in different robes denoting centuries of deathly experience. One of them was literally made of smoke. Another had an hourglass for a head. Another drank something steaming from a bottomless teacup labeled: Reaper #3 - Best at Meetings.
Vanessa stood awkwardly on a square marked "New Soul Evaluation".
She was not a new soul. She was still technically alive. But the bureaucracy didn't care.
"Rookie Reaper Vanessa," one of the Elders began, "you have been under observation for the last three months. Your record is… unusual."
Vanessa stood nervously as she offered a weak smile. "I've been told I'm a natural mess, sir."
"Quite," said the smoky Elder Reaper. "And yet, amid your catastrophic fieldwork, disorganized note-taking, and... charming insubordination, you have successfully exposed seven reporting errors, two misallocated souls, one corrupted claim file, and one reaper impersonator."
"I just read the forms, really. They were very… loud."
"Hm," Elder Reaper with an hourglass shaped head nodded as he muttered. "A mortal with pattern recognition."
"And sarcasm," another Elder Reaper said, flipping a scroll.
The oldest of the Elders leaned forward. Her voice was made of sand and sighs. "We believe you possess a rare gift."
"Oh no," Vanessa muttered under her breath.
"A gift for sniffing out the festering cracks beneath the Bureau's surface. Therefore—"
"Therefore?" she echoed, heart sinking.
"—you are hereby promoted to Assistant Field Liaison of Internal Oversight under the Supervision of the Third Regulatory Arm of the Office of Death Accuracy."
Vanessa just blinked.
"…That sounds like the most passive-aggressive department title in the universe."
One of the Elders snorted. Another scribbled a note on his parchment labeled "Quote Wall of the Interns."
"Effective immediately," the oldest of the Elders continued, "you are granted limited access to deeper Bureau archives and sentient ledgers. And of course, an enchanted filing chain to symbolize your status."
Vanessa felt something click around her wrist. She looked down to find a shimmering silver chain not binding her, but hovering lightly, shimmering with ethereal runes.
"Why is it warm?"
"It remembers the last Assistant who wore it."
"Wait, wore it? Where is she now?"
Silence.
Too much silence.
"…Okay then," Vanessa said. "So this is a cursed promotion. Got it."
A gentle laugh rolled from the shadows.
And that's when she felt it.
A sudden drop in temperature. The weight of ancient authority entering the room.
The Elders all rose from their seats in unison. Even the smoky one coalesced into a vaguely humanoid shape and bowed deeply.
A figure stepped out of the darkness behind the thrones. Clad in regal black robes with threads of starlight woven into the sleeves. His face was half-shrouded by a hood, but the air bent around him, like the laws of physics dared not apply fully in his presence.
He moved without sound, standing just behind the Elder Chair.
None of the Elders looked at him directly. But they all bowed again.
"Milord," they intoned in unison.
Vanessa's breath caught. Something primal in her spine screamed run. But her legs refused.
The figure said nothing.
He merely nodded.
And vanished as if he was never there.
Only one Elder dared to look up. "You are… fortunate, Assistant Reaper Vanessa."
"How… how so?" she asked, rubbing her now-goosebumped arms.
"You've caught the attention of someone beyond us."
"Please tell me that doesn't come with more paperwork."
"…You'll find out."
---
Later… in the Break Room of the Recently Condemned
Vanessa collapsed on the couch, letting her new silver chain dangle and shimmer beside her cup of mediocre coffee. Leonard the Obsessive Ghost hovered upside down near the ceiling.
"You look like you got drafted into a cosmic cult."
"I think I did," Vanessa groaned. "It's called 'Congratulations You're Not Dead, But Here's a New Set of Eternal Obligations'."
Leonard hummed thoughtfully. "Well, at least you'll have access to the inner circle now. That's good for our investigation."
"I didn't want to investigate, Leonard. I wanted a nap and maybe a pizza."
"Oh please," Leonard sniffed. "You're addicted to chaos. This job suits you."
Vanessa narrowed her eyes. "I'm going to make you wear a lanyard and name tag."
"You wouldn't dare."
---
In a Hidden Archive Room, Below Level 99
Two shadows lingered near a wall of ancient soul ledgers.
"She's been bound to the Bureau now," one whispered.
"She is progressing… faster than expected."
"And the Lord?"
"He was present."
"…Then the game begins."