I tossed my crew a look and they returned it.

Duncan was confused, so Finn filled her in. “Ghost lights. They come out at night in every fallen settlement we’ve found. We try to avoid them; fallen ghosts aren’t like the ancestor spirits back home.”

She frowned. “Can they be reasoned with? Slain?”

Finn shrugged. “We don’t know.”

Aislin added, “We usually just avoid them. Never worth the trouble, and the ones we’ve seen didn’t look friendly. Spooky glowing creeps.”

I kept the ship on course approaching the glowing isle. Finn looked at me nervously, and the others followed suit shortly after.

I said, “We’re going to the biggest, grandest, and probably most populated city of a dead empire. It isn’t a stretch to assume the palace library is indoors; ghosts are afraid of sunlight, not daytime. Dealing with ghosts is an inevitability at this point.”

Duncan eyed me. “It pays to pick your battles. We can sail right past this isle, Gwyn.”

“We can. Or we can make sure our first encounter with ghosts isn’t in the place where they’ll be most plentiful. Consider it a trial run.”

She pursed her lips, but nodded and said, “I’ll grab my hammer.”

We all armed ourselves as the ship drew closer to the isle. Soon enough, indistinct shapes became the silhouettes of structures. There was a vast estate blanketing the isle, and a sandy peninsula jutted out from the main landmass. Smaller silhouettes squatted on the peninsula, looking less regal but also less ravaged by the elements.

I directed my boat to the peninsula, which bore no ethereal lights. It would make a good staging ground to plan our advance on the mansion. As we made our final approach, I made out more detail of the peninsula’s structures by the light of the setting sun.

They were stone edifices covered in statues and domes and twisting spires. Their purpose was unknown to me, but the architecture seemed familiar; I’d seen something like this before on a scavenging trip, I just couldn’t remember what it was.

I looked to my companions and asked, “Anyone remember what those things are? I’ve seen them before.”

Gavin and Aislin didn’t, but Finn said, “Tombs. We found bones in a structure like those.”

I frowned. “So why are the actual crypts the only place ghost-free?”

They didn’t have an answer, and we ran aground. We marched to the gangplank and took up formation.

I took point with my blade, Gavin’s sword and board to my right and Duncan’s maul to my left. A ways behind us, the unarmed Finn and Aislin with her bow. Despite her newness to our team, Duncan had trained in the same tactics at the same temple, so she fit into place naturally.

We approached the first tomb with caution. Up close, my memories of that other tomb returned. The fallen had peculiar burial habits, from what little we’d seen of it. Instead of scattering ashes and inviting ancestor spirits into the vault of souls, the fallen kept their dead in elaborate mausoleums and richly-decorated graveyards, and in at least one place we’d visited, mass graves.

These tombs looked excessively ornate, as if most of the structure was dedicated to looking pretty rather than sheltering corpses. The nearest had a plaque on it: Eris Vaulk, Spice Trader. A whole structure for a single corpse?

Another tomb bore the title of Buteo Vaulk, Patron of the Arts. The detail work on it was subtly different from Eris’s tomb; she had carven sailing ships and embedded coins, he had marble busts and mocking theater masks.

They were strange, but our concern for ghosts still outweighed our curiosity. At least, until I saw her tomb.

The structure was larger than all the others, and more colorful. Marble, basalt, strange stones that seemed almost otherworldly, and mosaics depicting dozens of scenes of regal figures. The inscription: Lord Valeria Vaulk, Warlock, Courtier to the Emperor, Sponsor of the Great Campaign, Forger of Chains.

I had no choice but to enter the tomb, ignoring the nervous looks and faint protestations of my allies. I walked through the open entryway and was greeted by a burst of cold blue light.

The ghost of Valeria Vaulk frowned at me and demanded, “You are not of my house. Why have you intruded upon my sanctum?”

Her voice was cold, curious, and smooth. There was a lilt to it that reminded me of Vesta, an accent forgotten by the living. She was dressed regally in a silken shift and glimmering jewelry, but a very functional-looking dagger hung at her decorated belt.

I hesitated, searching for words. I grasped onto, “Lord Vaulk-” but she cut me off before I could say another syllable.

“Lord Valeria,” she replied sharply. “Vaulk is my family name, as any of my blood would know.”

“Sorry. Um, we didn’t know you were here.”

She raised an eyebrow. “You don’t look like kine, but you seem inexcusably ignorant to be kindred. Why is a strange girl with a strange accent the first to wake me in years? I have felt the dark for a long span.”

I looked to my friends, huddled in the doorway and not daring to step further. Their faces showed no more surety than mine, so I returned to Lord Valeria and said, “Centuries, actually.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Centuries? What has befallen my brood to forsake me so dearly?”

“They’re dead. They’re all dead; everyone is. The empire fell.”

Her suspicion was replaced by horror. “That can’t be. We are glorious. We are kindred. What happened? When did this happen? How?”

I winced. “I was hoping you could tell us. We honestly don’t know much. But… I can try to fill in the details.”

I told her that the Gates fell dormant, and that according to our ancestor spirits the empire had died in a single moment, after the flight of Vesta and her followers. We had only survived by hiding on an island protected by a powerful Ancient shield. We didn’t know what had killed the world, but every living thing above water had died. Outside the island, there were no more birds or beasts or kindred. Only death and cold stone. Even the grass had withered and been ground to dust by the wind.

While I spoke, my companions mustered their courage and crowded behind me, examining the insides of the elaborate tomb. The ghost noted their passing but did not interrupt my tale.

When my story was done, Lord Valeria spat a single word: a name.

“Nero.”

It was my turn to be surprised. “Nero? You know who he is? I’ve heard his name from ancestor spirits but never who he was, just that he tried to stop the exodus.”

The fallen noble scowled and turned away from me. “Nero was Emperor when I last woke. A petulant, arrogant wretch who spent more time hosting bacchanals and torturing prisoners than he did managing his empire. If anyone could have squandered our glorious civilization so completely, it would have been him.”

I filed away that piece of the puzzle, and Finn stepped up beside me.

He said, “Please, we know so little about our history and culture. What was it like in the empire? What do you know about the Gates?”

Duncan shook her head and said, “We don’t have the time for this, Finn. We need to get to the capital. We can talk to ghosts later, but protecting our people has to be the priority.”

He reluctantly retreated to the doorway.

Something occurred to me and I said, “Lord Valeria, what do you know about prophecy, and fate?”

The ghost returned her attentions to me and tilted her head curiously. “Fate? What a strange query. I’ve known nobles who swore by their soothsayers and star-interpreters, but never paid it mind myself. Tell me of this prophecy. And your name, as well.”

“I’m Gwyn. The prophecy is… it’s everything to us, back home. My temple, we have a prophecy from long ago, maybe even from the time of the empire, that foretells the end of the world. The Gates that betrayed us by failing will betray us again by opening and letting through a horde of all the kine who resented the empire and want vengeance. Only the chosen one, the hero, can save the kindred from extinction. That’s me.”

Lord Valeria’s expression was morbid. “If I had heard a prophecy like that in my time, I would have dismissed it in an instance. But if I had heard tell that the empire would fall, I would have believed it even less. I cannot help you in this matter, Gwyn, but I wish you the best of luck.”

I hesitated, then said, “You can come with us, if you’d like. See what’s become of the capital city.”

She shook her head. “No, I must attend to my house. If the world’s death was as sudden as you say, they might have died improperly, and it is up to I and my resting descendants to set the estate in order. Besides, I doubt you have the equipment to transport a ghost across a large body of water.”

I didn’t have the slightest idea what kind of equipment that would be, so I just nodded. I turned to leave, and Duncan followed, but Finn lingered.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

“Hmm?” the ghost inquired.

“For your loss, I mean. It… it must be hard to lose everyone. Your whole family.”

She smiled somberly. “Yes, I suppose so. It was the first time, when I saw my children die. I hid my grief, then, because it is not the place of a Lord to mourn. Not my place to show weakness that might be exploited by a rival. I choked my grief and buried it. There were many more deaths I learned of, many more tombs to be raised.”

She drifted out of the tomb and looked up at the night sky. “I tried to build a legacy. I was there when Emperor Tiberius opened the Gates. I funded the first slavers, and my house received a bounty of kine for my efforts. The Vaulks would be cared for, kept in luxury by the fortunes I amassed, the structures of power I and the Emperor’s other confidantes established.

“I have often regretted my actions; I fear I coddled my children too much. I wished for them to have an easier upbringing, but it dulled their senses. None of my line have ever surpassed me, even with the advantages they were given from birth. I alone possessed the ruthlessness to excel.” The look in her eyes was faraway and bittersweet.

Finn said, “I don’t think empathy is a weakness. I don’t think it’s a weakness to feel grief, or to love your family.”

Lord Valeria laughed and smiled at him. “Oh, child. You have the eyes of one who has been shown mercy. Who protected you? Who stole your pain?”

Finn’s gaze flicked to me of its own accord, and Valeria nodded.

“Shouldering burdens will not always make you stronger, Gwyn. One day, if you keep that up, your back will break.”

Then the ghost began the trek to her estate, and we returned to the ship.

For the first half hour after departing the Vaulk estate, everyone was silent. We were all processing what we’d witnessed. My thoughts were aswirl with the ghost’s warnings. My understanding of the fallen empire had blossomed, but it was still incomplete.

The first concern raised was a practical one: Aislin asked, “Is Nero waiting for us in the capital?”

It took a few seconds for me to conjure a response. I said, “Maybe.”

Then Duncan asked, “Why was that ghost so calm and reasonable? I was expecting – well, you told me to expect – someone more dangerous and less composed.”

I nodded. “Yeah. Thinking about that myself. Thinking about our ancestors. How only the oldest ones ever really show up to talk.”

Finn frowned. “Only the oldest? I’ve never noticed that.”

“Every ancestor I’ve ever seen manifest, or heard of manifesting, was an older type, not someone we might have ever known. Their chosen voice in the council is the oldest of them all, the one who led them to the island. I think it’s about how they die. I think there’s a right way to die, and we’ve forgotten it.”

Duncan protested, “But how could the ancestor spirits let us forget something so important?”

“Our ancestors let us forget a great many important things.” My voice came out colder than I had intended, sharper.

There was no more discussion after that. My companions retired belowdecks, and I carried the ship towards its destination, alone with my conflicting thoughts and the sea breeze.

My name is Gwyn, and I am the chosen one.

That’s who I wanted to be. I detested the doubt that was crawling in my gut. I detested the fear and guilt clawing at my heels. I needed to channel that negativity into something. But there was only the ocean.

In the distance, a jagged claw tore at the sky.

We had found our destination; the ship drew closer and I saw the decrepit spires of the fallen empire’s once-glorious centerpiece. Shattered glass, crumbling marble, sky-piercing towers withered by the elements. A dead city; a city of the dead.

I called for my friends, and they hurried to the front of the ship, watching with wide eyes as we made the approach. The capital’s broken harbor beckoned, rotted vessels lounging next to unsteady piers. And there were bodies.

Dozens, hundreds of bodies slowly growing visible.

Imagine a world without insects. A world without scavenger beasts and carrion birds. Imagine a corpse, left to rot but cursed to know only the wind’s tender mercies. Wind-scarred skin and exposed flesh, hellish grimaces and broken bones. Snapped necks and frozen, artificial smiles.

At least two hundred bodies were scattered across the harbor in various states of distress. The lucky ones had reached the water, to be devoured by the fish. The not-so-lucky only made it halfway into the water, and clean bone jutted from otherwise whole cadavers.

Some of the bodies were kindred, but not all. I saw foreign skin colors, horns, pointed ears, a few tails. Kine, trying to escape their masters, and being cut down.

But cut down by what? Time’s brutality obscured a cause of death for any of the numerous wretched refuse.

Finn looked sick, Duncan grim. Gavin and Aislin looked away.

I kept the boat steady, and we arrived at the capital city of the dead empire.