The Saints of the Undead, Raila says, and she quickly does some kind of curtsey and hand gesture in front of the crimson crown that doesn’t go unnoticed.
“And so what does it mean?”
It means… she trails off and slowly walks down the aisle, seeming to stare at the sightless statues as she passes. It means that the Old Gods are still worshipped. You see their eyes are missing? The old believers, the real ones, they removed their eyes because they were promised riches if they did so. They were told they could gain the sight of the Old Gods if only they gave up their eyes.
I try not to shudder. The crypt is feeling increasingly oppressive by the minute. “And the two with the masks?”
Those are the Gods, the Gods that believe, she says. They do not have human eyes nor human sight, but to be initiated into the sect, they must give up their sight in another way. It is also the way you must approach Vipunen.
“Vipunen is a giant, right?”
Vipunen is an Old God. The only real one we have left here. He has been here since the dawn of time, and he will remain after. No one has ever seen Vipunen, not even Death himself. He lives deep in the caves under the mountain and, because no one has seen him, there are only rumors to what he is like. But a giant he does seem to be, maybe a hundred feet tall. He’s helped Death rule, he’s trained his daughter and son in combat, and perhaps one day he’ll train you as well, depending on what happens to you. If you were to have him train you with the sword and the blade, then you would do so by donning a mask like this one. It signifies your status, but at the same time respects the one who doesn’t wish to be seen.
She looks around the crypt. Some say that to lay your eyes upon him is to die. Even the Master might suffer that fate. The masks protect both.
I gesture at the candles, but even that feels like I’m tempting the Old Gods to smite me or something. “So who comes down here and lights the candles? Who here worships the Old Gods this way?”
A lot of us, Raila says in a stern voice. There are a lot of us who do. The Stragglers, the leftovers.
Ones who have been rescued from the bowels of Inmost. Ones who wander the halls of Shadow’s End without any eyes. Some of which are hidden by veils.
But I don’t get the feeling that’s Raila. Not that it really matters what the Deadhands and Deadmaidens believe—it’s the least of my concerns. Then again, if they worship the Old Gods and there is talk about an uprising, well, who are the followers going to protect? It won’t be Death, or his family. They’ll defect.
And that’s why you need to get the fuck out of here, I remind myself. Before you get caught up in this shitty situation that doesn’t concern you.
“I think I’d like to go back to my room now,” I tell Raila.
With a nod, she obliges. It isn’t until I’m out of the dank depths of the castle and almost back at my room that I wonder aloud, “Let’s say that I stay here forever and rule as the new Goddess of the Dead. If there was to be an uprising, how would that effect, say, my father back in the Upper World? Or any other mortal? Are there far-reaching implications, more than just what happens in Tuonela?”
Raila pauses and I can feel her stare at me for a moment. Why, if the uprising were to happen and the Old Gods were to take over, and the Creator didn’t step in, then dying itself would be punishment. It would revert to the old days, before Death was called in here, before an afterlife in the City was built. There would be no order, no judgement, no fairness, nor no mercy. It would be Kaaos forever on end. All of humanity, of creatures, of species yet discovered, would suffer for eternity.
I try to swallow as my heart fills with dread, dark like ink.
Okay. So it seems like even when I do get the chance to skip out of here, that there’s a chance that all the realms in all the universes might have to suffer until the end of time. Cool. Cool, cool, cool.
“Well then,” I tell her. “Let’s just hope and pray that damn uprising doesn’t happen.”
I give her a shaky smile but I don’t think she gives me one back.
* * *
* * *
After my visit to the crypt, I shut myself into my room and stewed over the new information. It’s just my luck that the moment I can see a somewhat clear path out of here that there’s a bunch of universe-altering consequences to go with it. Not that any of this is my problem, but the fact that I even know it’s a possibility kind of makes it my problem. I might be the only mortal out there who actually knows what’s at stake.
This is something I want to talk to Death about. I want to know how much of what Raila said is true and how much is just rumor and hearsay. It obviously doesn’t affect him as much as it does me, because if he’s ripped off the throne, it’s not him that has to suffer for eternity, it’s everyone else that’s not a God.