The next thing Lucian knew, the world felt heavy, cold, and damp. Darkness wrapped around him like a second skin, and the scent of wood, rot, and age was so thick it made his stomach churn. But there was also a soft floral scent of some kind, as if it were trying to ease his discomfort.
His arms felt like water. Fighting the urge to panic, Lucian begged his mind to make his arms move. Slowly, slowly…the water retreated and gave way to pins and needles. The same feeling tingled through his legs.
Wherever he was, he had been stuck in this position for a long time.
Lucian's right arm was the first limb to completely settle, and when he tried to move, his elbow hit something hard.
No. No. Don't tell me-- he'd worked with enough bodies to understand the procedure as well as the back of his own hands. Lucian tried to take a deep breath to center himself and choked. The smell was worse now that he'd fully awakened. Cherrywood. Mold. White lilies. Stale air.
White Lil—no. Oh, no. We only used them as funeral flowers!
He must have screamed, but the coffin swallowed the sound.
Did I get so drunk I passed out in one of the funeral home's coffins? No…it couldn't be. I just had one drink!
Must've been one hell of a drink for him to end up like this.
The claustrophobia hit him like a sledgehammer, and Lucian couldn't keep himself together any longer. He scratched at the wood above him, kicked and screamed…but it was all muffled by the smooth, polished wood and velvet inner lining.
And the scent of wilted lilies, all around him. He thought he even felt ants crawling up his body and it was all too much.
Lucian thought he was doomed to die in here, buried by mistake. Ending up exactly like the bodies he tended to and buried, except much too early. Just when he thought all hope was lost, he heard muffled voices outside.
Then the dull thunk of shovels hitting the ground, and the sound of the soil moving. He thought he'd run out of air and was hallucinating being rescued, until the loud scrape of something metallic hit the box.
And then the voices sounded much closer this time.
"Don't rush! Steady, steady…we're almost there."
The sound of an authoritative voice made him shiver. "Don't damage the coffin."
They were digging him out!
The world seemed to fold in on itself, just then. Lucian could barely hear his own breath grow ragged and shallow as the muffled voices competed with the thinning air inside the coffin.
"Help," he said, and his voice was hoarse from disuse. "Please…"
As if in answer, the digging sound grew more frantic, and Lucian felt the flowers around his body move. Instead of the sickening smell of rot and dead white lilies, he gulped down fresh air.
Are these flowers…giving me oxygen? How? Does some god out there want me alive that badly?
The oxygen renewed his strength, and Lucian braced himself to kick at the lid whenever the digging and the voices were loudest. When he heard "I see it! We've almost uncovered him, your Majesty!" Lucian poured all of his remaining strength into one swift kick in the coffin.
And with a loud cracking sound, the lid split.
Lucian gasped in disbelief as his boot was still pressed against the shattered coffin roof.
"Just in time! You gave us a good fright, screamin' earlier than scheduled." A gruff voice said. "Now hold still, hear me? Don't wanna injure your foot now."
"Okay," Lucian said as loud as he could. He was still a little frightened, but felt comforted by the warm light spilling through the coffin's roof. Gradually he felt the rest of the lid being lifted and he pulled his foot back through the hole.
Slowly, the world came back into focus. His sight was no longer confined to the tiny coffin. The warmth he'd seen was candlelight. Hundreds of them, it looked like, as they flickered in and out of view. Their glow bounced off marble stone and silver candle holders.
And the flowers…he hadn't realized just how many were in the coffin with him. Lucian had been lying down on a bed of white lilies and his head was supported by a silk pillow.
As they absorbed the fresh air, they all began to bloom. Their petals slowly unfurled in the cold air, their centers glowing in different colors. Some lilies had a blue glow. Others pink. Fewer still emitted a soft, golden light.
A few floated gently into the air and were promptly caught by skeletal attendants, placing them in woven baskets. He had a feeling these flowers were important to these people.
"Now let's get you out of there." The gruff voice continued, and Lucian held in a gasp as he saw a skeletal arm reach out for him. Seeing as his only options were to stay in the coffin or reach out for the hand, he reached out and prayed the hand wouldn't crumble into bone shards.
"Whoops—I forgot how heavy live ones are. Uh, Jerry, do you mind giving us a hand?" The gruff-voiced man's bony hand let go of Lucian's and a pale, fully embalmed one took its place. "Thanks, Jerry."
Jerry grunted in response. With his help, Lucian was able to lift himself out of the coffin. He coughed and someone tutted, handing him an embroidered handkerchief. It had a lily delicately sewn into the lower right-hand corner.
What's with all the lilies? Is this a lavish funeral parlor? Is…is this heaven?
He tried to stand, gripping the sides of the coffin for support. Unfortunately, the adrenaline rush of breaking the coffin had run out, and his muscles were shaky, like a newborn fawn's. He sat up, legs on the ground. In the dim light, he could make out a rug. It must have been beautiful when it was still new. Now, it was rust-brown and frayed with age.
"You'll get stronger in time," a kindly voice said. "Takes awhile for your body to catch up. Happens to long-distance travelers."
Oh. So this isn't heaven after all. I've just been…uh, what's the word?
"I've been reborn?" Lucian asked softly. "Yup. Welcome to the land of those still kickin'!" Another voice said. He tried to stand and stumbled a little bit. A skeletal hand offered him a walking cane to steady himself. It was cold, made of steel and carved with intricate runes.
It reminded him a whole lot of his grandfather's cane.
Leaning on the cane for support, Lucian was able to stand and properly take in his surroundings. It was like a cross between a mausoleum and a palace for the dead.
The walls were framed with paintings he didn't recognize, and there were tapestries that had names in a language he hadn't seen before. There were polished bone statues and decorations made of obsidian glass.
And surrounding him, from a distance, were the undead. They were in various stages of decay. Jerry was a properly embalmed corpse wearing a frayed suit with a wilted lily on his lapel.
Others were just like the gruff-voiced man: exposed bones wearing clothes. Some were torn, some had patches sewn in the holes, and he even saw a bandaged corpse or two. Many hollow eyes looked at him, either empty or glowing very faintly, like candles about to burn out.
There was a heavy stillness in the room, like everyone was waiting for something. No one whispered in hushed tones anymore, and he saw, in the distance, someone lighting a fresh candle. Another figure bowed at the far end of the hallway.
And then he heard it. The faint clicking sound of heeled footsteps, muffled by the frayed rug. Lucian turned to face it, eerily drawn to the sound. With each step, all of the candles seemed to face it, as if they were sunflowers.
As it drew closer still, Lucian saw a skeleton dressed like a butler holding a golden candlestick. Behind it was the voice of a woman.
"Was it a success? Not a ghoul…and I do hope it isn't a skeleton…is it a necromancer?"
Lucian coughed as the dry air clung to his throat. "No," he croaked. "I'm a mortician."
For a moment, there was only the sound of clicking as the glow grew closer. A skeleton wearing a suit came into view, holding an ornate candlestick. The lady behind him sounded hopeful.
"Truly? I'm very glad." But while it was hopeful, the woman's voice in general sounded so sad. It carried not just sadness, but age and authority. It washed over him like someone had thrown a heavy curtain over his head.
The lady emerged slowly from the shadows, and Lucian gasped. One half of her body was perfectly illuminated by the candle, and the rest of her was cast in shadow. What he could see, though, was her dressed in a beautiful dark blue mourning gown, adorned with jewels shaped like flowers and firm white bone.
She smelled…interesting. There was a scent of embalming oil, incense, and cloves around her that overpowered the white lilies. The temperature dropped steadily as she approached, but it wasn't unpleasant. It was like wading into a cold swimming pool.
On her veil, pinned prettily to her raven hair on the right side was a black rose. Lucian concentrated on that as he tried to greet her, but the words were stuck in his throat. But the veil shifted a little, and beneath it was something polished and white.
His eyes slowly followed it but before he saw what was behind the veil--
[SYSTEM UPDATE - DEATH GRIMOIRE ACTIVATED]
User: Lucian Bowcott
Class: Apprentice Mortician
Rank: Cadaver
Note: You are in the presence of the Half-Dead Queen, Marguerite.
Warning: Do not ask about her appearance. Allow her to reveal it when she is ready.
It perfectly blocked the right side of her face.
Oh.
The message faded as quickly as it had appeared, but the Queen's left eye didn't blink. He felt the shadow of a hand press against his back, prompting him about the proper manners in this world.
Lucian gripped the walking cane harder.
He'd been exhumed from the coffin. Summoned here.
This was an audience.
Nervously, Lucian bowed before the Half-Dead Queen, and she curtsied in return.
She smiled and the room itself breathed a sigh of relief.
"Hello, mortician."