The stale scent of parchment, ash, and something suspiciously sulfuric lingered in the air as Vanessa sat hunched over a stack of fading death reports. All around her, the Land of Death pulsed with the hum of ghostly administration—groaning file cabinets, floating paper scrolls, and muffled curses from the overworked reapers behind their desks.
"Section 7-B is backed up again," a nearby reaper moaned. "We've got banshees double-booked in the Northern Dunes and a clerical ghost causing drama in Section D."
Vanessa absently nodded, her thoughts tangled with the recent conversation she'd had with Boneatrice, the rather blunt HR skeleton who'd given her a very specific directive—"If you want answers, you better be willing to dig where it stinks."
And it stunk. Figuratively and literally.
Since her involuntary employment at the Land of Death, Vanessa had been elbow-deep in death reports, trying to untangle the mess surrounding the forged soul discrepancy. But now, with a fresh directive from Elder Valta and a stronger sense of purpose, she found herself sitting in the Records Annex, a dimly lit chamber that housed the most sensitive files—the permanent death records.
She slid another scroll aside and pulled a heavy tome labeled Chronicle of Final Departures: Soul Batch A-Z. The book trembled faintly as if aware it was about to spill secrets.
"Okay, you dusty snitch," she muttered. "Let's see what you're hiding."
Her fingers moved quickly, flipping through aged parchment and whispered echoes until her gaze snagged on a file that made her blood chill.
Name: Vanessa Cross Soul Status: In Flux Fatal Incidents Logged: 2 Recommended Status: Pending Termination Approval
Vanessa blinked. Then blinked again.
"Excuse me?" she whispered, knuckles whitening against the edge of the desk.
She flipped the parchment open fully. The first incident was timestamped during her second year at the Academy—a seemingly minor experiment gone wrong. It was dismissed as an accident. The second was more recent. A street collapse she narrowly escaped weeks before her kidnapping and contract with the Land of Death was forged.
She hadn't thought much of it at the time.
But now?
Now she saw them for what they were: orchestrated.
Her breath caught as a sudden chill traced her spine.
There were internal memos attached to the file:
> "Subject's removal deemed beneficial to spiritual equilibrium. Pending re-review." "Approval temporarily suspended by Kazen."
That name again.
Vanessa whispered it aloud like a curse. "Kazen."
He wasn't just some name in a mysterious black file or the elusive administrator behind a corrupted system. He'd signed off on her death. Or at least delayed it—twice.
She slumped back, staring at the ceiling of whispering cobwebs and levitating books.
"Someone wanted me erased. Not just silenced. Wiped out. Gone."
Her voice sounded foreign to her ears—smaller, fractured.
She shoved the file away, but it followed her.
Literally.
The parchment glowed faintly and hovered, reattaching itself to her desk like a cursed puppy. She scowled. "Oh, now you're clingy."
"Found something juicy?"
Vanessa startled. Nix had appeared out of nowhere again, balancing a teetering tray of flaming skulls that grumbled irritably.
"I found me on the death list. Twice."
Nix blinked. "Huh. That's rough."
"Rough?" Vanessa snapped. "Someone literally tried to kill me! And not metaphorically. Like actually scheduled!"
"Welcome to the paperwork jungle," Nix replied dryly. "Most of us get one trip here. You got offered a season pass."
Vanessa rubbed her temples, willing herself not to combust. "This isn't just negligence, Nix. This is targeted. Systematic."
"And you think it ties back to the soul discrepancy?"
Vanessa nodded. "And Reaper Kazen is at the center of it. He denied the approvals. He knew."
Nix whistled. "Then I hope you're ready. Because if you poke too hard at old records, sometimes they poke back."
Vanessa narrowed her eyes. "Let them."
She stood, gathering the file and the courage that had begun to bleed from her moments earlier. This wasn't just a mystery anymore. It was war.
"Where are you going?" Nix called.
"To see Elder Valta," Vanessa called back. "And to ask him why I was supposed to be dead. Twice."
---
Meanwhile, in the Restricted Archives...
Samone scrolled through redacted reports, her fingers tracing hidden glyphs meant only for Deathbound operatives. Her eyes stopped at the header: Target Recalibration: Soul No. 100976 - V. Lorne.
Her hand trembled.
"I told them this would be dangerous," she murmured.
Behind her, a shadow flickered. "She's not ready."
"She doesn't have a choice anymore," Samone replied.
The shadow hesitated. Then disappeared.
Back in the records room, Vanessa stood before Elder Valta's massive obsidian door.
She didn't knock.
She barged in.