Azrael's Stop

Prologue

[A/N

Hi there! Wanted to let you know that Azrael's Stop is part of a larger storytelling project by Silverstring Media. We're leaving the first few chapters of the story here on Wattpad as a preview -- we've published the full story as an ebook, which you can get on Amazon or at http://silverstringmedia.com/store

In addition, the story is best enjoyed accompanied by the Azrael's Stop Official Soundtrack, which includes music referenced in this story, and we've just published an anthology called Tales of the Stop, 10 new stories set in Azrael's Stop.

Get all the details about it at http://azraelsstop.com ]

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PROLOGUE

They say that people come to the Stop when they're ready to die.

They say that Death himself is a patron. Certainly, that's where the tavern got its name.

Azrael's Stop. Watering hole for the Angel of Death.

There's an altar in the corner, a white ash cabinet with a statue of the angel. It's simple, but stands out—most taverns don't have altars to Death, after all.

They say you're supposed to leave an offering on the altar, instead of tipping. Not wanting to risk attracting Death's attention, most do it. That's also why most avoid the name, and just call it the Stop.

~

But that was all just rumour, and Ceph didn't trade in rumour. He just served the drinks.

Only seventeen years old, small, thin, Ceph looked perpetually tired.

He'd seen a lot of death in his short life. Maybe that's why he was here. No one really knew.

No one really knew much about the Stop—like why a hooded crow lived in the rafters of the common room. That's why so many rumours sprang up.

But they were just rumours, Ceph said. And Ceph didn't trade in rumour.

Except, of course, that every couple of weeks, someone died at Azrael's Stop.

~

Losday, 30 Zalornym, 1006 KR

Seventh Bell

The Stop was busy tonight. Outside the heavy oak door, the famous mists of Theore City blanketed the metropolis in muffled quiet. Inside, the common room was kept warm by a slowly burning fire and the closeness of bodies, like the cramped space was designed to remind everyone that they were still alive.

Ceph poured an old dwarven tanner a glass of heavy Running River mead.

"Need a room? I haven't seen you around."

The dwarf shook his head, his grey braided beard swaying. "Nah, I live in town. Just needed a new scene. Something calmer, y'know?"

"If you want calm, just don't piss off the crow," Ceph said, without a hint of a smile. The dwarf watched as the crow flew down from its perch and stole a drink of whiskey from someone's glass before flying away again. He snorted.

"How come it's so quiet?" he asked.

"No one's died yet."

The dwarf stared at Ceph, but Ceph moved down the bar to help someone else.

~

Someone else might have asked the dwarf why the change of scene, but most of Ceph's patrons didn't like to talk about their problems.