Page 115 of Mortis

Greed.

The noise overhead suddenly erupted into commotion. Voices rose into shouts. Leisurely footsteps became frantic. But I stopped listening, because something was happening inside us. A burning sensation ignited beneath our sternum, and we gasped. The pain sharpened. Something pulled inside our chest, tightening until it felt like a hook had buried itself beneath our ribs. Then it was ripped free, and the invisible compulsion that had weighed upon our mind for more than a century simply vanished.

“What is happening?” the vessel whispered.

We stared down at the circle surrounding us. The markings that had kept us imprisoned since the night of our summoning.

CRACK.

Our head snapped towards the sound. A fracture had appeared in one of the chains, and we froze. Another crack split through the iron. Then another.

“Look,” the vessel breathed, eyes focused on the circle.

It was fading. The markings bled into the stone, disappearing piece by piece until nothing remained. For a heartbeat, we didn’t move. Neither of us dared. Hope had been beaten out of the vessel long ago, and I even found myself afraid to believe what was happening. Still, I latched onto his consciousness and pulled him aside.

Taking control of our body, I curled our fingers around the chain attached to one wrist, and pulled. The iron shattered, and I stared at the fragments scattered across the floor. Then I grabbed the other.

CRACK.

It broke just as easily.

Are we . . . the vessel faltered inside our head, almost afraid to finish the thought. Are we free?

I gripped the restraints around our ankles and tore through them. The metal crumbled beneath our claws, broken pieces scattering across the stone. A purr vibrated through our chest, and for the first time in over a century, I pushed us to our hooves.

Pain immediately tore through our legs. I snarled as our muscles cramped, stiff and weak after spending so long folded beneath us. Our knees buckled with the first step, forcing me to catch our weight against the wall.

Slowly, the vessel whispered. Please.

I growled and shoved him deeper into the recesses of our mind. “Be quiet.”

I tried again. One step, then another. Until our hooves reached the edge of where the circle had once been. Then I stopped. Decades of punishment screamed at me not to go any further.

Do it, the vessel whispered.

This time, I didn’t silence him. I stepped forward, and nothing happened. No invisible force threw us backwards. No pain ripped through our body. No command forced us to our knees.

Nothing.

We were free.

A crash sounded overhead, then came a mournful wail. I crossed the dark room, approaching the door that had kept us hidden for so long, and placed our ear against the wood.

“How can he be dead?!” someone screeched.

“We were promised immortality! Surely he can’t be dead. There must be some mistake.”

Another wail followed, this one belonging to the leader’s wife.

“Mammon promised we couldn’t die!”

Someone cleared their throat, and paper rustled.

“Actually, the pact states that death would not claim us,” a man said cautiously. “I would assume that means disease, age, natural causes. It says nothing about death at the hands of another human.”

Silence. Then came a collective gasp, shocked whispers, and someone began to sob.

“He was stabbed during a mugging. Someone tried to take his watch and he fought back.” There was a pause. “Death didn’t claim him. A human did.”