"MAN, it is time to MAKE A DEAL with me," boomed the Reaper. "Are YOU READY to give up your SOUL to ENTER the WORLD OF THE DEAD?" His bass voice broke the grave silence of the cemetery. "Yes, I am ready to serve you," the man replied proudly.
The Reaper's decaying figure leaned over a parchment bearing the seal of a bird skull—the symbol of legal presence in Hell. With a flick of his bones, he authenticated the document, leaving a bloody blot instead of a signature.
"Perfect, now let's sign the contract," a female voice sounded tired, almost indifferent, against the whisper of the wind among the tombstones. "I hope you are aware of all the consequences. Your soul will be used as expendable material, and you will forever lose the ability to be reborn. And, of course, you waive all rights to complaints and claims, as you have chosen this path yourself."
Next to the graves, human remains, and the embodiment of Death, she looked too ordinary. Somehow wrong.
She appeared to be about twenty. Long blonde hair, neatly styled and adorned with skull and feather-shaped clips. Her pale skin and grey eyes, almost colorless against the grey tombstones, blended in with her surroundings. The only element disrupting this strict harmony was a bow-tied ribbon around her neck. It added the disorder that was its owner herself.
After scanning the pages of the contract once more, the girl almost smiled: "The last clause is just paradise for all lawyers, don't you think?"
"I want the power and might hidden in the afterlife... Authority inaccessible to the living!" the man declared firmly, but his hand involuntarily clenched the chest cross. "I am ready to serve the Dark Lord."
A silence hung for a fraction of a second.
"Just perfect," a weary sigh escaped her lips. Being polite was something the Reaper had taught her. After all, no one wants to die surrounded by tormented faces. So she obediently smiled, passing the sheets for review.
"Wait, that's it?" the man persisted. "No pools of blood or rituals required? I brought offerings for Kalidas..." "Ah, I see... You're missing the drama and sacrificial rituals," and again, forced courtesy in her voice. "Sorry, not our profile. We're just humble office workers."
The contract was sealed with blood, then vanished, leaving only a slight trace of chaos behind. She cast a fleeting glance at the man, evaluating potential risks, and calmly added:
- I advise you to hold on tight now. It turns everyone inside out the first time.
"Don't forget to bring your SWIMSUIT, the WATER there is really BOILING!" the Reaper chuckled.
A raging whirlwind swirled in the air, morphing into something resembling a black hole. The portal instantly swallowed the man, then dissolved along with him into the darkness.
"Another idiot. That's the forty-second today," the girl whispered, studying the list of the dead who had signed the contract.
"ALICE, I am so OLD and have seen many NIGHTINGALES," the Reaper groaned painfully. His voice sounded like rusty hinges on the door of an abandoned crypt. "But such SCUM as YOU, I've never met before."
"It's always nice to be the first."
"DON'T BE SARCASTIC. What about the PART about RESTORATION?"
"A demon can take a portion of a nightingale's soul to increase their own strength and regeneration. But don't worry, a human soul can partially regenerate if the demon passes the chaos back to you. For that, you need physical contact."
The well-rehearsed text sounded particularly dreadful.
"Be warned! The less soul you have in your body, the higher the risk of dying again and turning into a decaying shadow without a mind of its own," the Reaper lost patience with each phrase he threw out. "Is that clear enough now?"
YOU ARE READING
The nightingale
काल्पनिकWelcome to Hell! Why are you here? For power, magic, or perhaps love? Don't worry: you are not alone. You are surrounded by hundreds of other lost souls, called nightingales. Among the dead, Alice is one who sold her soul for her own purpose. Howeve...
