《The truth about the upside-down skyscraper in the land of death》 1鈥擬IRRORED FROM BEYOND Suddenly, my ring finger moved. I felt something. I couldn¡¯t quite say what, but¡ªwere sensations as familiar as they were distant. I remembered¡ªlittle things like this. The rats crackled in the tunnels, and the cicadas chirped in the gardens. My hand moved, hindered by something. Shapes of ropes, no, they were tubes protruding from my body. Little by little, my eyelids opened. The light of day, so far away, impressed itself with force, blinding me. I remembered this sensation, too. I, Malcavissa, lord of the shadows, felt it every time I returned from that empire to which the shadows had delivered me. My memory was still hazy, but the sound of footsteps on stone, a rolling pebble, gave me the certainty that I had returned. Had I returned? Again? Was the long journey now over? When my dried-out eyes could see again, I saw the silhouette of a girl. Equipped like an adventurer, she was fiddling with rubber hoses and a machine like a laptop. The instruments were connected via an arcane cube, probably stolen from my treasure hall. Ah, my treasure. My last journey. Now, I remembered. I, Malcavissa, was killed by adventurers hired by the lords of the kingdom. They could no longer tolerate my thousand-year rule. They could no longer tolerate my knowledge of the shadow world. So, I was finally dead, and those memories¡ª Unpleasant memories that now invaded my mind and made me scream in horror. The girl jumped back, pulling a silver stake from her belt. Her determined expression made me calm down again, and the magic from my thoughts soothed the pain. ¡°Mighty Malcavissa, you have awakened.¡± ¡°You have called me from eternal sleep. To what do I owe this service?¡± She bowed and returned the stake to her belt. ¡°My name is Catur. I am a reporter, better known as a necromancer. It is my custom to travel to the places of illustrious deaths to question the deceased.¡± ¡°A curious profession, yours. Reporter, you say. What year is it? I did not remember that you were allowed to practice magic.¡± ¡°In the ten years you have been dead, mighty Malcavissa, many things have changed. Your magic has shattered across the world. I am a manipulator of it.¡± ¡°I see. I imagine you awakened me to gain treasures and secrets as compensation. Perhaps you wish to become my disciple.¡±This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version. The girl smiled mockingly. ¡°Not at all, mighty Malcavissa. What I desire is a tale.¡± ¡°Another illustrious death to tell on your pages?¡± ¡°No, a tale that no dead person can tell.¡± ¡°And how could I, Malcavissa, be an exception?¡± ¡°Because you saw the afterlife before you died. I want you to tell me what you sketched in your notes.¡± A sudden pain stabbed my temple again. The memories, those memories I couldn¡¯t suppress. I kept my cool, giving myself away with a single grimace. ¡°No resurrected person keeps such memories.¡± My words only made the necromancer¡¯s gaze narrow. ¡°Mighty Malcavissa, you are not just any resurrected. You have traveled to the shadow world countless times before you died.¡± ¡°Vague, hazy memories.¡± ¡°Your notes say otherwise.¡± ¡°Delusions of trance.¡± ¡°Do not lie! I, Catur the necromancer, command you.¡± Something circulated in the pipes but to no avail. ¡°My flesh may be that of a sagging mummy, the purple robe of my rank may be gnawed by rats, and my silver jewelry rusted, but I assure you¡ªfoolish Catur¡ªthere is no spell in this world that can subjugate me.¡± The sorceress stamped the ground with the heel of her sandal. The sound echoed throughout the room. At that moment, I realized I was still there, on that throne, where, years before, I had died. My life seemed so far away. My lost plans had now reappeared in my mind. Thinking about life made me feel good. I didn''t care if my power had vastly dispersed in the mortal world. ¡°I have mirrored your mind in your body. As such, I demand your deference!¡± ¡°Complaining is not what I expected of a sorceress of your rank.¡± I turned back to Catur, annoyed by her determination. ¡°I am the mighty Malcavissa. Your deference is only due to me. Reporter.¡± She gritted her teeth. Her fingers clicked on the silver stake on her belt. Poor, foolish creature. Could she not see the difference between us? She admitted that she owed her abilities to my power. ¡°Malcavissa. I saw the files you filmed during your trances.¡± ¡°Were they in the arcane cube?¡± ¡°They are still there and were fundamental in awakening you.¡± ¡°And for that, I¡¯m grateful.¡± ¡°Mighty shadow-lord, I saw the upside-down skyscraper overlooking the desert.¡± The pain in my temple returned to oppress me, making me grind my gold teeth. ¡°I see that speaking of these things brings you pain.¡± ¡°Necromancer, there is no truth in what I could tell you. Only the dead have access to the truth.¡± ¡°But you are dead and now back. Speak to me, or I will make you return to the dead.¡± Instead of disturbing me, those words of contempt ignited hope in me. A glimmer of enlightenment, a buried will. In this hall, only one external light came from behind the throne where I sat. So, my shadow will extend over the guests. The sun was still too high. It was afternoon, but soon the sun would set. All I had to do was wait to cast that spell that memory now reawakened. If it was the death that she wanted, I could satisfy her. After all, what I was rediscovering at every moment was my desire for life. I gritted my teeth again to achieve peace of mind, to alienate myself from the physical and psychological pain that gripped me. ¡°All right, Catur, I will fulfill your wish and quench your thirst.¡± ¡°Oh, well. In the end, my magic can make you think. At first, I feared it had failed, but now you give in.¡± ¡°I do it of my own will. Don¡¯t forget. I don¡¯t enjoy talking about that place.¡± She took out a tape recorder and turned it on. ¡°I do, on the other hand, enjoy it. First and only reporter to have broken the silence. I know others who could have, but they all feared you too much. But being reckless pays off. Come on, tell me before you go back to the afterlife.¡± I didn¡¯t respond to the provocation¡ªshe could believe what she liked best. 2鈥擲KYSCRAPER I used to access the afterlife through a trance state. I would abandon my body, incarnating in my shadow. In that form, devoid of substance and made of pure darkness, I would appear at a random point in the ash desert. There, I would wander for days, maybe years. Time passed differently, and to this day, I do not know if it was a material reality. As a shadow, I was not sensitive to anything other than surfaces. There were no stars in the sky. Only an eternal sunset beyond the horizon illuminated the landscape. With experience, I learned to navigate. There were enormous rivers, miles and miles wide. They were composed of dark red sand that flowed slowly, carving canyons in the ash. And finally, I saw it: the upside-down skyscraper. It was the first and only structure I had ever encountered in that place. Back in my body, I studied the recordings made with the arcane cube and began filling entire hard drives with speculations, hypotheses, and models. With each trance, I tried to reach the threshold of that skyscraper. Now I could see its features, the signal lights, the concrete bastions. Like a tree with many branches, the building had an urban canopy. It was a mess of other structures, arches, and bridges built from colored glass and basalt. That was what I understood from the systems analysis I had. But no matter how close I got¡ªno matter how much I followed the course of the river of red sand¡ªI never reached the building. It moved with the horizon.Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. But you¡¯re not interested in these things. Aren''t you? You want to know what happened after I died. So, Catur, here¡¯s what happened. I do not remember the faces or the actions of my killers, but I do remember my strength dissipating, my magic shattering, my body ceasing to respond. It was dark, and it lasted in the blink of an eye. When I reopened my eyes, I found myself in a colonnaded penthouse without windows and overlooking the world at dusk. It took me a moment to orient myself, to realize that it was a sloping parking lot and that I was walking on the ceiling. Pipes, emergency signs, neon lights¡ªa few overturned cars confirmed my supposition. I didn¡¯t feel sick. I remembered everything about my last moments of life. More than a deceased, I felt teleported. A familiar sensation that didn''t make me hot or cold. I touched my chest, my shoulders, and my neck to know what condition I was in. I was fine. I was whole and in my best physical shape. The flow of magic was not comparable to before, but a couple of tricks with my shadow worked, and I calmed down. I just had to find a way to go back, to get revenge. I began to explore the plain. My breathing and footsteps broke the dead silence of the afterlife. I reached the edge of the parking lot and gasped. The ash field lay miles below. I could see the scarlet river coming and crashing against the pinnacle sunk in the sand. A soundless wind grazed me high above. It pushed me back from the edge. To understand, I tried to step into the void and was rejected. I tried to send my shadow, but it was rejected, too. I was starting to understand¡ªI was a prisoner. And, if I was a prisoner of the afterlife, in that skyscraper, after an exhausting battle, the answer could only be one: I was dead. 3鈥擳HE DOLL IN THE TOY鈥橲 HEAVEN Retracing my steps, I followed the blue signs: EXIT: PARADISE They were upside-down, but they traced a coherent path. The more I walked, the more I doubted the reality of the situation. I separated from my shadow, allowing it to advance in advance. Since it had no body, the shadow reached the end of the path in a few moments. On the ceiling was an upside-down staircase. The staircase went deeper into the structure, along a corridor of blue and pink tiles. It was lit by pink neon, and my shadow could not proceed. I reached the shadow, and as it merged with my body, I felt a strange vertigo. The buzz of the fluorescent lights hurt my temples, and I couldn¡¯t keep my eyes fully open. It didn¡¯t take me long to realize that the light was draining my magical flow. I tried to back away from the first step but stopped a few feet away. Looking around, I could see the pillars, the pipes, and the parking lot lines. I was too far from the edge to see the sky and the sunset. My breathing became blurry, and I felt ashamed. I, the mighty Malcavissa, subjugated by the forces of nature. Be they a soundless wind or a magical light. I kicked the ground. I had no choice. Either I went down, or I remained wandering in that parking lot. I was humiliated. I felt frustrated. The desire for revenge grew in me. I would have made those wretches pay. Once I returned to the living world, I would send them to that land. Motivated by anger, I returned to the first step. Leaning against the wall, I descend, defying fatigue and pain. After two flights of stairs, I pressed the panic bar of an upside-down fire door. I entered a dark room, but my feet were on the checkerboard floor. The door slammed shut, and then silence returned. A faint scent of vanilla mingled with that of incense. I took a step into the darkness, and lights appeared. Swaying flames in the candles of the chandeliers, oil lanterns on the walls, and a few tripods holding other lanterns gave the room a warm and dark color.This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it. The room was large, resembling the aisles of a hypothetical department store. However, the furniture was made of fine, dark wood and worked with the opulent taste of the previous century. Even more curious was the nature of the objects stored on the shelves. Toys. Mostly dolls, but also puppets, vehicles, dollhouses, building blocks, marionettes, scattered decks of cards, and boxes of board games. The sizes varied greatly and did not appear to be arranged in any order. A single toy might be isolated on a shelf, while several piled up in others. I wandered through the labyrinth for some time, looking for the stairs to the lower level. I felt like walking through a natural history museum, especially in front of the closed glass cases. They contained only pieces of toys labeled with strings of text that were obscure to me. I did not know, nor had I ever encountered the language of the dead. And yet, I was sure it was it. I did not know what to feel. I had made countless trance-like journeys to get here. Now that I had arrived, I was more disappointed than amazed. Was this all I awaited after death? It took me a while to realize that I was being watched. I am not saying toys were alive, but they weren¡¯t dead, either. They sighed, chuckled softly, and watched me. I noticed it thanks to my shadow, which captured their magic as it passed over those surfaces. It had not been an immediate process since my magical forces had been exhausted due to the light of the stairs. Occasionally, shouts of joy or laughter seemed to come from other corridors. Metal easels and tripods supported signs and chalkboards, but I couldn''t see what they pointed to or what they indicated. I continued like this until the corridors ended, opening in a circle around a blue floor containing the tessellation of a sea. I realized that I was in the center of the labyrinth. A multicolored light came from a wardrobe with polychrome glass doors. It illuminated a round iron table, on which was placed a large book and a game board. Pawns¡ªsoldiers of various shapes and colors¡ªwere scattered, along with dice and cards. Two high-backed, perforated leather chairs flanked the table. In one of them, a girl-sized doll with long blue, purple, and white hair stared up at me, holding a steaming cup. Her eyes were closed, her hair was ribboned, and her skin was porcelain dark enough to look like a glazed shadow. And maybe it was. Alarmed by the possibility, I expand my shadow, ready to fight. But the doll opened her eyes, smiled at me, and set the cup on the table. I noticed she was holding a monstrous stuffed toy in her lap. It had the head of a zombie dog, its body a tangle of long, flaccid tentacles. Kindly looking at me, the doll sat with her legs side by side, tilted to the side, and did not try to get up. With her freed hand, she adjusted the corset and knocked the dust off the skirt. Then she smiled at me again, watching me with sweet glass eyes. The light coming from the cabinet gave her countless colored reflections, and I found myself embarrassed to observe her. ¡°Welcome, Malcavissa. Your case is so funny. You have the possibility of choosing, you know? Would you like to sit with me for a while? So, we can talk about it.¡± Pulled by invisible strings, I began to move. I didn''t fight back, trying to analyze the situation. Whatever was happening, I wasn¡¯t sure if the power I had left was enough to give me control of the situation. I sat down in the chair, and the doll closed its eyes, smiling. The tension of the invisible strings loosened, and I started to speak. But the lips wouldn¡¯t open, and the doll put her hand to her mouth to hide her laughter. ¡°No, no, no. We are in the land of the dead. Here, the toys are alive, and the living are toys. You can no longer speak, sweet Malcavissa.¡± 4鈥擧OW THE AFTERLIFE WORKS ¡°Hohoho¡ªnooo! You lose again! Oh, poor Malcavissa. You lost to Cerpolpol again! You¡¯re so bad~ Don¡¯t despair. I still like you.¡± Cerpolpol, the plush octopus with the zombie dog head, moved its green pawns with tentacles. My body responded, moving the yellow pawns around the board on my turn. But it wasn¡¯t me driving it. It was the doll. I couldn¡¯t understand how she did it. Her power twisted my body. Like I was being manipulated or¡ªby invisible strings and hands. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, sweet Meerarere. I¡¯m sorry. Would you two like to play another game?¡± The words came out of my mouth without me saying them. Since I sat down, my voice and lips had been moving at the doll''s will. She kept making me say ridiculous things and playing with the plush she was petting in her lap. ¡°Maybe later. Cerpolpol likes this game. One more, please.¡± The dog barked and wagged some of its tentacles while rearranging the pieces on the board. Meerarere stroked it behind its floppy ears and held it to her chest. The doll expressed only positive emotions. She went from mocking smiles to surprise, passing through many moods in between. She didn¡¯t seem rushed, anxious, or nasty. While we played, she hummed and started fictitious conversations between me and the stuffed animal, pretending to intervene as a mediator. I tried to stay calm, a prisoner of my body. My shadow explored the surroundings and studied the situation. I needed information. She didn¡¯t care and perhaps didn¡¯t notice. Her magic didn¡¯t follow the rules I knew¡ªif it was magic. It had no focal points, nor did it seem tied to anything in physical reality. The possibility that she was mentally manipulating me¡ªor causing me to hallucinate¡ªwasn¡¯t out of the question. But if that were the case, then it would mean that I was dealing with a sorceress with abilities equal to, if not greater than, those I had in life. A shiver shook me, but my body didn¡¯t move, and the feeling of unease froze in my back. I couldn¡¯t do anything. Even the goosebumps remained at a subcutaneous level, annoyingly unable to manifest without the approval of that doll.If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation. For the first time, I was as scared as I was helpless. No, it wasn¡¯t the first time. I moved a flag over the border of the territories in half of the board. ¡°Oh, Malcavissa. So, you were scared as a child?¡± My breath caught. Had Meerarere just read my thoughts? So¡ª ¡°These are sad subjects. Freeing ourselves from these burdens would be nice when we play, right?¡± ¡°Right, right,¡± Cerpolpol intervened. ¡°Malcavissa is telling the truth. These are sad subjects, best left out of the game table.¡± Why this farce? Because¡ª ¡°In any case, I was beaten as a child, and, at that time, they destroyed a toy that my father had given me. It was the only toy I ever had.¡± ¡°Owh~¡± Meerarere¡¯s expression became sorrowful. She hugged Cerpolpol, who gasped as if out of air. ¡°How sad! Toys exist to comfort children, and you¡ªand you¡ªand you¡ªwere deprived of them in such a cruel way!¡± The doll began to sob, crying iridescent tears. I was confused and frightened. What I had said was true, but the doll had made me say it. If she could read my mind, why ridicule me like that? Why cry? I had no idea what to do. Paralysis rules my body. Cerpolpol picked up a lace handkerchief from the floor to wipe away the doll¡¯s tears. She was hugging it, leaning over, not ready to stop. Meerarere calmed down and suddenly beamed again. ¡°You are so lucky, Malcavissa!¡± ¡°Really?¡± She nodded, closing her eyes. ¡°Yes, because people are judged that way after death. Depending on how they treat toys in childhood, a person runs for either toy heaven or hell. No half measures, no room for appeal.¡± I wanted to ask what the hell she was saying. This topic all sounded stupid. What did it mean that life after death was decided by how a child treated toys? No matter how hard I tried, a force greater than my will made me smile and clap my hands. ¡°But that¡¯s sounds great!¡± ¡°Yes, it is! You protected your only toy, so you have the right to choose. It¡¯s so nice to see people happy; that¡¯s what toys are for. No matter how sad the moment is, we are always there. We are available, always smiling, and ready to help those in need. True, we can¡¯t do much else. But we are for comfort people, and we don¡¯t ask for anything in return.¡± ¡°But I defended it and cried when they broke it. I cried for the beatings at the time, but in the days that followed, I cried more for the grief.¡± ¡°Aww, you were so sweet!¡± My level of discomfort increased and increased. Everything Meerarere said was disturbing. Everything she forced me to say was grotesque. I vaguely remembered that day. I, the mighty Malcavissa, promised myself that nothing like this would happen again and that I would have no more toys. But other than that¡ª ¡°Well. Now, you will have to pass just one small test.¡± Meerarere bent down to set Cerpolpol on the ground. The plush walked out of my field of vision. The doll adjusted the ribbons in her hair and the bows in her dress. She took a coin out of her sleeve and placed it in the center of the table. ¡°So, sweet Malcavissa, this is your decision. Heads, you will stay in heaven. Tails, you will go to hell. You can choose who will toss.¡± ¡°You are very kind to let me choose. You toss.¡± ¡°You are entitled to it. I toss~!¡± 5鈥擣ALL OFF HEAVEN ¡°Heaven!¡± Meerarere jumped up as she exclaimed. She was hopping happily and swinging her arms around. I was looking at the table. I could barely see the coin¡¯s result because of the dim candlelight. I wanted to get up, reach out, and check. All I could do was smile compelledly. The doll hopped up to me, ruffled my hair, and patted me on the shoulder. My shadow had merged with her, and I was ready to fight back. ¡°You¡¯re happy, are you?¡± ¡°Of course I am! I can¡¯t wait to get down to the heaven floor.¡± ¡°Yep, we¡¯re going down right now!¡± Meerarere separated from me, clapping her hands. A clang of mechanisms clicked into place, and a birdcage dropped from the ceiling. ¡°Don¡¯t worry. We are in the elevator!¡± I nodded, and the doll whistled, putting her fingers to her mouth. ¡°Come on, Cerpolpol, come on!¡± The plush reappeared from the shadowed shelves, slithering between the bars with slimy grace. The floor shuddered and began to descend. Stuck in my chair, I couldn¡¯t look around nor close my eyes to clear my mind. I could only observe the table on which the coin rested. The light transitioned as it descended. It went from candles to the warm lights of old electric lamps. A red wall with gold damask carpeting delineated one side of an immense room that was full of noise and the smell of smoke and alcohol. Taking my chin and gently lifting my head, Meerarere turned me to look at her. ¡°This is a floor of heaven dedicated to adults only. Since you are now a toy, I have decided to make you play with things that correspond to your social role. Look!¡± When she left me, the elevator had stopped descending, and the cage retracted toward the ceiling. Surprisingly, the table in front of me had grown larger. There was a roulette wheel and some boxes with poker values ??and suits. On my side, there are several piles of casino chips. In addition to me, mannequins dressed in fashionable, elegant, and richly decorated clothes came to sit down. The noise of slot machines in the background continued to give jackpots, and the coins jingled like waterfalls. Added to all this were the enthusiastic voices of those faceless subjects. ¡°Well~, now I¡¯ll let you play to win and become rich!¡±The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. My arms moved, placing all my chips on zero. Cerpolpol took on the role of the croupier and threw a ball into the roulette wheel. I didn¡¯t understand. It was all happening too fast. Was this heaven? ¡°Zero! Malcavissa, you won!¡± The doll jumped up to hug me, and I hugged her back. I laughed, and she laughed, and the mannequins applauded as Cerpolpol¡¯s tentacles handed me more stacks of chips. Meerarere pulled away from the hug, wiping away tears. ¡°I¡¯m so happy I¡¯m crying! Now, we will play the rich magician who loses everything and becomes an alcoholic!¡± What!? ¡°It sounds like a fun game. But I¡¯d rather lose everything on the slot machines. It would increase the sense of inevitability, prey to an algorithm set up by the casino.¡± What am I rambling on about? No, no, not. I held out my hand to the doll, who took it. I stood up and turned to look around at the vast room filled with rows of slot machines. Mannequins and people and toys were inserting gold and silver coins and winning piles of more coins. ¡°Don¡¯t look at them. You will lose everything now and play the part of the desperate person.¡± What kind of game is this? Why was I, the mighty Malcavissa, bent over these humiliating games? I couldn¡¯t accept it. But, I didn¡¯t have enough information to guarantee the success of the rebellion. What would happen if I tried to resist? I tried to immobilize Meerarere¡¯s legs with my shadow. She grimaced, then looked annoyed and smiled, narrowed eyes. ¡°Maybe Malcavissa doesn¡¯t like the game I chose for him? But the sweet wizard knows. He will have to play for me for eternity. He chose to play in heaven, where I can treat him like a toy without hurting him.¡± I didn¡¯t reply. The doll tried to strain, stuck in that standing position. My shadow was like a pedestal that glued her to the floor. Her expression became ambiguous. She was a smiling doll but also annoyed. She was trying to hide her anger, and that circumstance was a good thing. It meant that my shadow was effective. So, if I wanted, I could try to break Meerarere''s concentration and free myself from her string control. ¡°Malcavissa, toys never resist nor complain. Please, don¡¯t complicate the¡ªAH!¡± My shadow turned into spears and nails and struck the doll. Her joints dislocated, and stuffing spilled out from her shoulders and knees. Meerarere screamed, and I stepped back. I stepped back of my own volition. Was the spell broken? Without thinking, I ran between the slot machines. If I was in the afterlife, there was a chance I could get out and be resurrected. No one had ever done it, but from my research, I knew that the wizard Dumdugo had documented the phenomenon by interrogating the corpse of King Colmope. But that had happened over six thousand years ago, and my arcane cube had assumed that it was information magnified by myth and tradition. Whatever the case, I ran. I ran, panting, and all the sound stopped. The lights went out, and I crashed into a slot machine. ¡°You hurt me! I am a toy, and you tried to break me. I hate you; I hate you! I HATE YOU! I promised you heaven, but you decided to prove yourself the monster you are. You will pay for this. You will pay with the games of hell.¡± An evil laugh faded into the darkness, replaced by a feral sound. It sounded like the panting of an approaching predator. I could hear the heavy footsteps of its running and the lights of the slot machines turned on. They did it only in that corridor to illuminate the arrival of something. Something that ran and barked. Its mastiff-like face was full of teeth. Its tongue was hanging out, dripping an acidic substance. Everything caught fire touched by that liquid, and the animal grew faster and more dreadful. It ran on two legs that were nothing more than tangled tentacles. It barked and growled. I raised my arm to order my shadow to block it, but the being continued to advance undisturbed. The flames blazed, and I realized. My armpits were wet with sweat. I was shaking. I was shaking like the time I was beaten. I felt as helpless as I did then, and I stepped back. Something was holding me back. It was fear. The rapid heartbeat and hyperventilation of a panic attack shocked me. The threatening monster had reached me. Its jaws closed on my belly. 6鈥擲CRAP TOY SHREDDER When I opened my eyes, the pain was excruciating. I screamed and regained control by numbing myself with magic. That monster had slammed me against the floor and objects. With its jaws, it tried to tear me apart, and my senses clouded. I couldn¡¯t have said what had happened to me. I only knew that I had suffered horrible pains and magic had not helped me. Then, I was thrown into the void. The growling and barking faded away, and silence fell. Only then did I black out. And now that I was awake? I tried to get up, but all I felt was pain coming from my limbs. My entire body was burning at the base of my neck, and I was staring at the concrete ceiling, lit by a few green neon lights. I couldn''t move anything but my mouth. I could roll my mouth, dilate my nostrils to inhale the dust, and open and close my eyelids, but the rest of my body was unresponsive. ¡°Either I am still under Meerarere¡¯s influence, or I am seriously injured.¡± The words came out smoothly and showed that I was not under the doll¡¯s control. Therefore, I must have been seriously injured. A feeling of revulsion accompanied by a nauseating coldness assailed me. With my shadow, I tried to cover myself to see what condition my body was in. But my shadow was divided. My body was divided. That toothy horror had torn me to pieces. Perhaps it had incinerated or dissolved parts of my body! I called forth the fragments of my shadow. Each one pulled at the piece it sprang from while the shadow of my head solidified, forming a spider-legged base. I spun the base and studied the room. Piles and piles of broken toys, electronics, books, animals, and human limbs filled what looked like an indoor landfill. There was no blood, and slimy tentacles formed the floor. They spread and twisted like evil tendrils, sifting through the waste and draining the liquids. After a siren blew, more broken toys fell from above. They came out of a hole in the ceiling, and with them fell electronics and pieces of people and animals.This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it A few tentacles shot out from the piles, trying to grab what they could. Then they sank back down, leaving the remaining scraps to roll onto the piles. ¡°Bad, very bad. Maybe parts of my body were¡­¡± I let the sentence hang. It didn¡¯t matter. I had enough magical knowledge to regenerate any missing parts. It was a good thing that since I was already dead, I couldn¡¯t die. I located a door on one wall. A green sign read: EXIT: HELL Not the best exit, but an exit, nonetheless. Thanks to the magic, I was calm and no longer in pain. I just had to wait for my pieces to reconnect. I would think about hell later. The first to arrive was the left hand with the arm attached. It snaked like the tail of its shadow and positioned itself, waiting for the chest to arrive. While I waited, I continued to look around. I tried to rationalize that situation. I was used to searching for coherence in phenomena. All I perceived could be explained. And everything that could be explained could be explained logically. I just had to understand the mechanisms that operated in that skyscraper. What forces were acting beyond the fog of my understanding? Could it all be reduced to the words of Meerarere? Was it true? Was the afterlife sorted in childhood actions? The fact that everything related to toys was the most absurd part of the matter. The tentacles continued their sifting work. They passed close to me but never stopped on me or any part of my body. I managed to reassemble myself without being disturbed and witnessing another spill of materials. Luckily, I was almost in one piece and only had to regenerate a few body parts. That monstrous canine had torn me into more than a hundred pieces but in an uneven, random way. That was just as well. It is easier to regenerate a hundred shreds than one large limb. Trying not to trip over the piles of unstable waste, I advanced toward the exit. Walking through the tangle of tentacles proved difficult. In addition to being slippery, they moved, bent, and made the ground as unstable as it was changeable. At the sound of another siren, the lights became blinding white beacons. I was forced to lower my gaze and glimpsed something between the holes left by the tentacles. A massive, sharp grinder was slowly turning. The pieces that fell were crushed by that infernal machine. Then, they disappeared. As the siren stopped, the machine began to accelerate and emit the stench of kerosene. The whiffs rose with dreadful screeching, like the wail of tormented angelic voices. I put my hands to my ears, careful not to trip. The holes were getting bigger and bigger, and the tentacles were actively working against me. Tripping and grabbing were the two most common attacks. But, using the shadow, I could slice them in time. The ground began to shake and open as the noise and stench increased. Tons of material poured into the void, and I felt the earth give way beneath my feet. Luckily, or by skill, I couldn¡¯t say for sure, I managed to throw my shadow at the door, using it as a rope to climb. As the shadow pulled me up, I watched the shredder emit red and black smoke and devoured among the thousands of wastes I was also a part of. But I did it. I was safe. Now, only hell stood in my way of escape. 7鈥擠ESCENT: DROP The stairwell and concrete stairs were endless. From the outside, the structure seemed to go on for miles. However, from the inside, it seemed with no horizon. I couldn¡¯t see the bottom or where the pinnacle narrowed. There were no intermediate levels: concrete, stairs, emergency signs pointing to hell, and white writing on the walls were the complete landscape. The steps were marble, with a checkerboard pattern. Meanwhile, the concrete was crisscrossed by red and black carpet grooves. I couldn¡¯t understand it, and after an initial surprise, I stopped paying attention. I rarely came across an upside-down window with a pointed arch facing downward. Outside was the desert, the river of sand, and the eternal twilight. I finally reached a door. I pushed the panic bar and found myself in a corridor crossed by pipes. Drafts and the gas smell filled the space while the pipes creaked and groaned. A grate separated them, and writings in the language of the afterlife prevented me from understanding. The signs, however, looked like warning signs. The corridor led to a white service door. A glass window allowed a view of the empty room, equipped with countless monitors that overlooked the stairway. I could not tell if they were multiple shots of the same point or if they pointed to different points of the structure. In any case, I was uncomfortable. The fact that there was a surveillance mechanism without a watchman troubled me. I was humiliated by toys. The thought continued to haunt me. Centuries of power, knowledge, and conquests dispersed in a single battle. And here I was, weak and limited to trying to escape. With nothing else, I returned to the staircase and continued down. Now I could spot the cameras.Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere. They were placed far away, white dots that hooked into the corners. I watched them, and they watched me, and I felt my heart pound. I was sure Meerarere knew. I couldn¡¯t explain it, but that place didn¡¯t need any explanation. She had condemned me to hell, so probably that¡¯s where she was waiting for me. A roar echoed through the stairwell. I couldn¡¯t tell where it came from because of the echo. A boiler could have exploded in the service corridor, or something else could have happened further down. A ticking sound, however, emerged from the fading echo. It was the ticking of little paws climbing up and scratching the concrete. The swarming of a swarm of rats, moving wildly, aggressively. But that couldn¡¯t be the case. I was letting myself be influenced. I continued my descent using the shadow as a vanguard. In case of obstacles or dangerous entities, I could intercept them. This reassured me, but I was aware that it could not be a solution to the problem. The first to arrive was from behind. It rained from the upper floors. It isn''t a rat or an animal at all. It was a ball of yarn, bristling with needles. It missed me and kept rolling, bouncing from step to step and unraveling the skein. The needles scraped the ground and then flailed like stiff lizards, unable to rewind the thread. The more rain came down, the more it rolled down the stairs. Making matters worse were the dressmaking scissors tangled in some balls of yarn. I ran down, trying to dodge what I could. I was an easy target, but I knew. If I stopped, it would be much worse. That is until I saw the creature lurking, ramping the steps in the opposite direction. I heard it roar several flights of stairs ago and noticed its smoke. A toy dragon woven with a crystal ball in its chest rages against steps and wall. It had no arms but wings like a pterodactyl. Its back was bristling with bones, and its underside was pure smoke. It moved its mouth and wings mechanically with a distorted music box melody in the background. I tried to stop it with my shadow, but it had no effect. Remembering the encounter with the previous monster, I was crushed between the rain of yarn and the coming of that toy. I had no choice but to trust in the immortality of the dead. Without thinking, it threw me into the void. The creature leaned out when it saw me fall but did not follow me. The balls of yarn rained and hurt. However, the further I moved away, the more they lost precision. Finally, silence returned, and at times, from the windows, I could see the peaceful outside. I was safe. 8鈥擧ELLISH MARIONETTE TWINS I emerged from the stupor with aching temples. Images were blurry, and muffled sounds echoed. I could hear voices and make out silhouettes. ¡°Mir, I¡¯m almost ready.¡± ¡°Good, Arere. He seems to be recovering as well.¡± I ran my tongue over my teeth. I tasted blood, and I was cold. Drafts were coming from the right, but something was blocking my head in front of a table. I could turn it, but not completely. Was I under a spell again? With my vision back in focus, I looked at a green tablecloth with finely crafted plates and dishes. The painted porcelain and services were rich and worked with bas-reliefs and engravings. A mirrored silver tray contained numerous sweets, while several glasses contained cream with biscuits. Maybe it was mascarpone. I couldn¡¯t tell at the time. ¡°Here we go, here we go! He¡¯s awake, Mir. He¡¯s awake!¡± ¡°Oh, I can see. Turn it on, turn it on so we can start the live broadcast.¡± At those words, a very high-resolution screen lit up at the other end of the long table. It framed me and the room. It was a wide shot, and it took me a few moments to process all the information. I was sitting at the head of the table, but this time, it was restrained by various bonds and not by magic. I was without clothes, and I suffered from the cold pushed in from outside. The windows were open, and a frosty wind blew along with the sunset lights, moving the heavy curtains decorated with golden floral motifs. The room itself had some characteristics that I knew in the building. At first sight, a checkerboard floor, wall lamps, braziers in worked metal, and shelves were present. In addition, there were various kitchen tools and cooking surfaces. I recognized ovens and goblets and bottles of closed liquor. But none of this disturbed me. There were presences in the frame. Little ghosts were flying in and out of the frame. They were dolls and puppets, in other cases handkerchiefs, with booties instead of mouths and eyes. Cerpolpol was also wandering around peacefully. From the ground, it stretched out its tentacles. It unsuccessfully tried to capture the little ghosts. On either side of the throne, however, two puppets were chatting. It took me a while to associate them with Meerarere, but it was clear that they were related to her. Mir and Arere. The first was identical to the other doll. She was only shorter. She was like a scaled-down version of the original and was fiddling with kitchen tools. The second, Arere, was very white, with multicolored yellow, orange, pink, and red hair. She had a lace eye patch and a plaster on her nose. Otherwise, they were the same. From the chocker of both came a soft gold chain connected to the ring finger that then continued, disappearing behind the throne. When one doll pulled, the other moved. So, they must have been tied together. ¡°So, Malcavissa, how are you?¡± I turned my head to Mir, who was fiddling with a pan of cream puffs. They were still uncooked, and she bent down. She opened the oven to put them in. I didn¡¯t answer, another sign that they weren¡¯t mentally controlling me. ¡°Come on, my friend asked you a question. Answer her!¡± ¡°Arere, don¡¯t scare our guest! Malcavissa, don¡¯t listen to her. If you don¡¯t feel like answering, don¡¯t.¡± The two dolls spoke like nothing was happening and moved with incredible fluidity. However, you could see the strings moving their limbs. Only their faces were indistinguishable from human faces. And I doubted they were puppets. Their expressions were natural and spontaneous.If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation. ¡°Well, if you don¡¯t say anything, we can start. Arere, are you filming?¡± A few moments passed, and then Mir applauded, taking the cream puffs out of the oven and placing them on the table next to the other sweets. The projection of her shadow reminded me that I also had one. I tried to make contact, but the only thing that came out was the laughter of the two tormentors. ¡°Ha-ha, if you look for your shadow, you will be disappointed. I ate it.¡± ¡°Arere is telling the truth. When you fell from the stairway, you looked in terrible condition, so we decided to separate you from something dear to you. You know how it is. To get something, you must sacrifice something else.¡± A question came to me spontaneously. ¡°So, I was dying?¡± ¡°No, no. You were just seriously injured.¡± ¡°Yeah, without treatment, it would have taken ages to heal. But we are not patient, are we? Mir?¡± ¡°Arere is telling the truth. Do you know how boring it would be to wait until you recovered? Sure, we could have played with you injured, but how boring. We¡¯ll do that later.¡± ¡°You¡¯re not funny.¡± The two laughed even louder; annoying laughter was high-pitched and childish. ¡°We¡¯re funny! Only you can¡¯t understand us. You¡¯re just a toy. Be thankful we don¡¯t just turn you off. Do you think we don¡¯t know what you did in heaven?¡± ¡°Heaven? That was hell in disguise!¡± Mir shrugs. ¡°Do you hear that, my friend? Heaven, where it¡¯s forbidden to hurt him, would be hell!¡± ¡°Maybe Malcavissa likes to suffer.¡± ¡°Right, Arere, you¡¯re a genius!¡± ¡°Modestly, I¡¯m the camerawoman, right? I¡¯m the great director!¡± ¡°Yes, yes, as you wish. Shall we play?¡± ¡°Whenever you want, Mir.¡± ¡°Wait a minute. What do you think you¡¯re doing? Do you think the shadow was my only trick?¡± ¡°Shut up, wizard.¡± ¡°Arere, there¡¯s no need to be aggressive.¡± Mir began to stroke my head. The gesture became increasingly violent, ruffling my hair and tearing out strands. The magic did nothing to dull the pain, and I screamed. ¡°Oh, look, he realized he has no magic left! Hahaha, how sad!¡± ¡°Mir, you could have left some spark of magic. Now. How can this little wizard delude himself into thinking he has a chance? Hahaha!¡± The more they talked, the more I hated them. Angrily, I grabbed the arms of the chair and tried to free myself from those bonds. But it was useless. The knots were too strong and the ropes too tight. ¡°Good. Game number one. Malcavissa, would you rather eat a ton of pastry shop sweets or drink a hundred liters of cream with soaked biscuits?¡± I was incredulous as Mir uncovered trays full of sweets. Suddenly, I couldn¡¯t turn my head anymore. I felt a cable starting from the cup and pulling me back, forcing me to keep my head straight in front of me. I could see the screen, the table, me, and what the two were doing behind me. ¡°Then, hurry up! Look at him, Mir, he can¡¯t make up his mind. Why don¡¯t we stuff him with everything? If it blows up, we''ll fix it as little as possible for the next round.¡± ¡°Oh, Arere, come on, don¡¯t be cruel. We need to start soft. Next round, I¡¯ve prepared fish bones against glass shards.¡± ¡°Mir, look, they¡¯re not edible!¡± ¡°I know, I know, but we decided. This time I¡¯d decide! The last one you injected went completely crazy after only a hundred rounds. I want to show you this way. We can play much longer.¡± I listened to them, paralyzed and terrified. ¡°I.¡± The dolls looked at me. ¡°You?¡± ¡°Shh, maybe he¡¯s decided! Tell us, tell us! Sweets or cream?¡± ¡°I. I¡¯d like to know if this is the afterlife.¡± ¡°Sure.¡± ¡°What will happen to me? Please tell me what will happen to me!¡± ¡°None. You are finished already. There will be no other endings. Only games of eternal suffering. Besides, I am sorry to point it out, but you decided to escape from heaven.¡± It is not possible; I could not find the words. Tears filled my eyes. In centuries and centuries, I had not been afraid. I had forgotten the terror of failure, of suffering. I had reached the point where I was indifferent, even in the face of the death brought to me by those heroes. But now? Now, how could I continue to live in that state of non-life? I could not even feel justified and gloried in my past misdeeds. Everything was vain in the face of that absurd truth. Toys preceded humans and presided over the world after death. Caught in those worries, I didn¡¯t realize until it was too late that my lips were moving, and the air was coming out. ¡°Sweets.¡± I said it, and I knew I hadn¡¯t said it. ¡°Arere, you cheated!¡± ¡°Mir, what difference does it make? Do we stuff him or not?¡± ¡°Yes, you¡¯re right. You know that we almost, almost, could¡­¡± The discussion went on and on, but only one thing was sure: I began to suffer and suffer and suffer to the point that even remembering causes me infinite torment. You can¡¯t understand. Sorceress and journalist, you can''t. You cannot understand my suffering in being deceased, nor can you know the pain it causes me to tell you this story. 9鈥擳HE PRICE OF DEAD MAGE TALE Catur turned off the tape recorder and laughed¡ªa malicious, offensive laugh intended to ridicule me. ¡°Interesting. I haven¡¯t had this much fun since the interview about the dog-eating case. The guy claimed that dogs wagged their tails to signal him to eat them. Oh, I¡¯m not five years old anymore. Do you think I believe that story?¡± With my mummified fingers, I grabbed the armrests of the crumbling throne. There were only a few moments left. My shadow was now projecting at Catur''s feet. Even if she spent her last moments denigrating me, soon she would realize the mistake. A magician¡¯s honor meant little when faced with the prospect of returning to that hell. Just recalling the memories made me tremble, and she noticed. ¡°Are you scared? Are you perhaps afraid of me, mighty Malcavissa?¡± ¡°Believe it or not, I cannot speak anymore.¡± ¡°Oh, this is how the story of the most fearsome wizards ends? By telling fairy tales to a sorceress? What is it? Does it bother you that some people can bypass your magic?¡± I didn¡¯t answer, just waited. Since I couldn¡¯t look in the mirror, I had no idea what my face had become. It certainly wasn¡¯t pretty to look at, but at least it no longer had the fleshiness to show changes in expression. ¡°I was honest. I told you what happens in the afterlife.¡± ¡°Huh? Our fates are decided for eternity by sentient toys. Sure, thank goodness. I¡¯m not a child who gets scared easily.¡± ¡°Why would I lie to you?¡± ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡± Catur rubbed her chin, considering the question. ¡°I don¡¯t know. But there¡¯s no doubt that you¡¯re lying to me.¡± ¡°Have you ever been to the afterlife?¡± ¡°No, but the dead I spoke to would have told me.¡± I laughed¡ªa hoarse laugh, whistling through the cracks of my golden teeth. ¡°You admitted that you came here because the dead do not know. Only I, of all people, possessed the power to remember. And so, it was. Tell me, Catur, why does this good fortune trouble you?¡± ¡°The dead do not remember, but they are all terrified of the afterlife. They fear the moment when I will let them return to eternal sleep.¡±The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. ¡°So, it is with me, don¡¯t think otherwise.¡± ¡°But no one would be afraid of sentient toys. Your entire story is incomplete, bizarre, and disturbing. What kind of meaning would life have if that is its end?¡± ¡°What do you expect me to know?¡± Catur pulled out the stake and pointed it at me. ¡°Be careful what you say! I remind you that you are here by my permission.¡± I tried to smile and felt the thin layer of moldy skin on my cheek crack. ¡°I can prove my story is true, but you can''t return and tell it to the newspaper you work for.¡± ¡°Are you threatening me?¡± Catur stepped forward, and a gust of evil spirits created an aura around her. It was trivial. Tricks of a magician compared to my resurrection. Maybe I had misjudged her. Maybe this necromancer was just a lucky dabbler. And yet, she had said she had resurrected others and had some of my power¡ªwas she lying? Was she hiding her true abilities? Well, it didn¡¯t matter anymore. My shadow was touching hers, and so I screamed. A hideous, feral scream that made the stone shake. ¡°Catur! Now you will see with your own eyes!¡± The sorceress did not have time to realize that she fainted. My shadow engulfed her, and I also lost consciousness. * ¡°What happened!? What is this body!? No!¡± Those screams hammered in my temples. When I opened my eyes and stood, I saw the throne shadow stretched over me. The silver stake was on the ground, and the aura of spirits had dissolved. I looked at my hands and clothes, moved my feet in the sandals, and placed the recorder in the pocket of my backpack. As I ran my hand through my hair, Catur screamed like a madwoman. The voice she possessed was mine. The body was mine. ¡°You! How could you!? You!¡± ¡°Catur, Catur, or should I say Malcavissa? You don¡¯t play with the dead. Especially if they¡¯re much more powerful than you.¡± ¡°Was this your goal? You deceived me from the beginning!¡± ¡°No, you are wrong. I have not lied to you. It is necessary to offer something to start the shadow exchange of minds. Something that the other must ardently desire. In your case, it is the thirst for truth, the curiosity that sucked you into my body. Now, I will dispel the spell so that you can verify what I said.¡± The mummy began to wriggle. But the more it wriggled, the more the body fell to pieces, now too fragile to withstand sudden and angry movements. ¡°Wait! You can¡¯t! You can¡¯t! I believe you! I believed you from the beginning. I don¡¯t want to! Give me back my body!¡± ¡°Not at all. The pact is sealed.¡± With those words, our shadows parted. The mummy faded and fell to pieces on the throne. I stood there admiring it for a few moments in the twilight glow. I couldn¡¯t believe it. I couldn¡¯t believe it. I was alive. I had escaped the eternity of suffering to which I was condemned. No, I hadn¡¯t escaped. I had only bought time. If I wanted to continue running, it would be essential to quickly recover my immortality and the powers that had made me fearsome. Perhaps it would be useless. A group of heroes would come to stop me again. But there was no point in worrying about that. I had to think one step at a time. One step. At a time. Now I, the mighty Malcavissa, had returned from the realm of the dead.