SECRETS OF EXOCLYUS

19: FINALLY

The last road.

The promised path.

The fated lane.

There were many names for this process, but Koma had always just called it one thing.

The forever line.

The line to the judge hall of Perxodial, where the soul of mortals would either be ascended to the clouds where they would enjoy the fruits of their good actions, or be shove down to the pit where they shall be lost for all eternity.

Koma had been here.

Time and time again he had been on this line of waiting souls, their forms were transparent, spectral, with three diamonds floating above their heads, representing mind, body, and soul, and a bird on their shoulder that were servants of Mortem-Kitubik who guided the dead to this place.

However, while every soul had these features, Koma was different. He had no diamonds, no bird that guided him, his body wasn't transparent, instead it was a solid shadow, his wooden arm was no longer there, just the outline of the rest of his body that was completely black with wisps of darkness rolling off it like the smokes of a fire.

His eyes, the right one was gold, and the other was nonexistent. It didn't limit his vision however, he could see ahead, he could always see ahead and this time was no different.

The great old hall, it stood tall and beautiful, with architecture that changed by itself every few minutes but didn't lose its size. However, it always remained small compared to the ethereal being that stood beside it.

Mortem-Kitubik, the god of death, the one that brings the souls to the other side, the one who sees all at their beginnings and knows their ends. His face was hidden beneath a large black hood, and his body was also cloaked, but Koma could see his eyes, his four golden eyes that looked down on his subjects with indifference.

He was different, Koma couldn't understand why but he knew that this god was far more older than other gods, even though he hasn't met any other than Shongo.

In Mortem-Kitubik's hand was a spear that he rested on, Koma saw him use it to push souls that attempted to run off back in line, or stomp it on the ground once he noticed that they were getting restless.

Koma had gone through this many times, and despite knowing the outcome he always waited for something different, because he always gets halfway to the hall. He always reached the middle of the line, so close to freedom, when the god of death would focus all four eyes on him, ignoring everything else going on.

Mortem-Kitubik would start reaching down, his hand would always be just a few inches away, but when Koma tries to reach for it, as he did now, a hard grip would suddenly wrap itself around his ankle and he would look down to see a wooden arm stretching out of the soil and holding his body.

Koma couldn't speak in this form, he lacked the ability to, but within himself he cried out for help as more wooden arms broke through the soil below and grabbed unto him. He struggled to reach the god of death, not caring of the judgement that awaited him, only wanting to be free from this misery.

You cannot leave.

You must stay.

You must fight.

Guardian...Guardian...Guardian.

Their chant echoed in his head before they began the pull. He was thrown to the ground and tried to claw his way out of their hold, but they outnumbered him, meaning all he could was struggle as he was dragged away from the line, from eternal rest.