The next thing Lucian knew, the world felt heavy, cold, and damp. Darkness wrapped around him like a second skin. The stench of wood, rot, and age was so thick it made his stomach churn. But underneath there was a floral scent, as if the box wanted to apologize.
His arms felt like water. Lucian fought the urge to panic and begged his mind to make his arms move. Slowly, slowly…the water gave way to pins and needles. The same feeling tingled through his legs.
Wherever he was, he had been stuck in this position for a long time.
Lucian's right arm was the first limb to completely settle, and when he tried to move, his elbow hit something hard.
No. No. Don't tell me-- he'd worked with enough bodies to understand the procedure as well as the back of his own hands. Lucian tried to take a deep breath to center himself and choked.
The smell was worse now that he'd fully awakened. Cherrywood. Mold. White lilies. Stale air.
White Lil—no. Oh, no. We only used them as funeral flowers!
He must have screamed, but the coffin swallowed the sound.
Buried.
Alive.
Did I get so drunk I passed out in one of the funeral home's coffins? No…it couldn't be. I just had one drink!
To end up like this...it must've been one hell of a drink.
The claustrophobia hit him like a sledgehammer, and Lucian couldn't keep himself together any longer. He scratched at the wood above him, kicked and screamed…but it was no good. No one could hear him beneath the smooth, polished wood and velvet inner lining.
Even worse, the scent of rotten lilies surrounded him. When he felt ants crawling all over his body, it sent his mind into a tailspin. Lucian was desperate to escape--he desired fresh air and water. His throat was drier than the Sahara and sweat stuck to his clothes.
It felt like agony.
Lucian thought he was doomed to die in here, buried by mistake. He always knew he wanted to be embalmed and buried, but not now. He was only 25.
And then, from above: voices. Muffled. Too good to be true.
The dull thunk of shovels struck the soil.
He thought he'd run out of air and was hallucinating being rescued, until the loud scrape of something metallic hit the box.
Hope returned in full force. The voices sounded much closer now.
"Don't rush! Steady, steady…we're almost there."
The sound of an authoritative voice made him shiver. "Don't damage the coffin."
They were digging him out!
The world seemed to fold in on itself, just then. Lucian could barely hear his own breath grow ragged as the voices competed with the thinning air inside the coffin.
"Help," he said, and his voice was hoarse from disuse. "Please…"
As if in answer, the digging sound grew more frantic, and Lucian felt the flowers around his body move. Instead of the sickening smell of rot and dead white lilies, he gulped down fresh air.
Are these flowers…giving me oxygen? How? Does some god out there want me alive that badly?
The oxygen renewed his strength, and Lucian braced himself to kick at the lid wherever the digging and the voices were loudest. When he heard "I see it! We've almost uncovered him, your Majesty!" Lucian poured all of his remaining strength into one swift kick in the coffin.
The lid split with a loud cracking sound.
Lucian gasped in disbelief as his boot was still pressed against the shattered coffin roof.
"Just in time! You gave us a good fright, screamin' earlier than scheduled." A gruff voice said. "Now hold still, hear me? Don't wanna injure your foot now."
"Okay," Lucian said as loud as he could. He was still a little frightened, but felt comforted by the warm light spilling through the coffin's roof. Gradually he felt the rest of the lid being lifted and he pulled his foot back through the hole.
Slowly, the world came back into focus. His sight was no longer confined to the tiny coffin. The warmth he'd seen was candlelight. Hundreds of them, it looked like, as they flickered in and out of view. Their glow bounced off marble stone and silver candle holders.
And the flowers…he hadn't realized just how many were in the coffin with him. Lucian had been lying on a bed of white lilies and his head was supported by a silk pillow.
As they absorbed the fresh air, they all began to bloom. Their petals slowly unfurled, their centers glowing in different colors. Some bloomed a bright blue while others glimmered in pale pink. A precious few blushed gold, like memories you could touch.
By some miracle, some lilies floated in the air and were caught by skeletal attendants in woven baskets. These flowers were important to them.
"Now let's get you out of there." The gruff voice continued, and Lucian held in a gasp as he saw a skeletal arm reach out for him. Seeing as his only options were to stay in the coffin or reach out for the hand, he reached out and prayed the hand wouldn't crumble into bone shards.
"Whoops—I forgot how heavy live ones are. Uh, Jerry, do you mind giving us a hand?" The gruff-voiced man's bony hand let go of Lucian's and a pale, fully embalmed one took its place. "Thanks, Jerry."
Jerry grunted in response. With his help, Lucian was able to lift himself out of the coffin. He coughed and someone tutted, handing him an embroidered handkerchief. It had a lily delicately sewn into the lower right-hand corner.
What's with all the lilies? Is this a lavish funeral parlor? Is…is this heaven?
He tried to stand, gripping the sides of the coffin for support. Unfortunately, the adrenaline rush of breaking the coffin had run out, and his muscles were shaky, like a newborn fawn's. He sat up, legs on the ground. In the dim light, he could make out a rug. It must have been beautiful when it was still new. Now, it was rust-brown and frayed with age.
"You'll get stronger in time," a kindly voice said. "Takes awhile for your body to catch up. Happens to long-distance travelers."
Oh. So this isn't heaven after all. I've just been…uh, what's the word?
"I've been reborn?" Lucian asked softly. "Yup. Still breathing. Means you're ours now." Another voice said. He tried to stand and stumbled a little bit. A skeletal hand offered him a walking cane to steady himself. It was cold, made of steel and carved with intricate runes.
It reminded him a whole lot of his grandfather's cane.
Leaning on the cane for support, Lucian was able to stand and properly take in his surroundings. It was like a cross between a mausoleum and a palace for the dead.
The walls were framed with paintings he didn't recognize, and there were tapestries that had names in a language he hadn't seen before. There were polished bone statues and decorations made of obsidian glass.
And surrounding him, from a distance, were the undead. They were in various stages of decay. Jerry was a properly embalmed corpse wearing a frayed suit with a wilted lily on his lapel. Others were just like the gruff-voiced man: exposed bones wearing clothes.
Some were torn, some had patches sewn in the holes, and he even saw a bandaged corpse or two. Many hollow eyes looked at him, either empty or glowing very faintly, like candles about to burn out.
There was a heavy stillness in the room, like everyone was waiting for something. No one whispered in hushed tones anymore, and he saw, in the distance, someone lighting a fresh candle. Another figure bowed at the far end of the hallway.
And then he heard it.
The faint clicking sound of heeled footsteps, muffled by the frayed rug. Lucian turned, eerily drawn to the sound. With each step, all of the candles noticed and leaned toward the sound. It reminded Lucian of sunflowers.
Eventually, Lucian spotted a skeleton in a butler outfit, holding a large golden candleabra. Behind it was the breathless voice of a woman.
"Was it a success? Do we have a ghoul? A skeleton?"
She paused before whispering, "...not a necromancer?" instinctively, the skeletons shrank back in fright, and a few dropped their brooms, bringing up a cloud of dust.
Lucian coughed as the dry air clung to his throat. "No," he croaked. "I'm a mortician."
"Truly? I'm very glad."
But while it was hopeful, the woman's voice carried sadness, age, and authority. It felt like someone threw a heavy curtain over him. When she stepped into the light, Lucian gasped. It was like someone had split her body into two and glued it back together.
The left side of her body was visble, thanks to the candles. The right side was cast in shadow. She was dressed in a dark blue mourning gown decorated with flower-shaped jewels and firm white bone. A black rose was pinned to the right side of her veil.
The woman's taste in perfume was...interesting, to say the least. A thick cloud of embalming oil, incense, and cloves overpowered the lilies. She leaned close, inspecting him with a critical eye. As she did so, the room grew so cold Lucian saw his breath.
He tried to greet her, but the words were stuck in his throat. She moved and her veil shifted, revealing something white and polished underneath. His eyes slowly followed it but before he saw what was beneath the veil--
[SYSTEM UPDATE - DEATH GRIMOIRE ACTIVATED]
User: Lucian Bowcott
Class: Apprentice Mortician
Rank: Cadaver
Note: You are in the presence of the Half-Dead Queen, Marguerite.
Warning: Do not ask about her appearance. Allow her to reveal it when she is ready.
It perfectly blocked the right side of her face.
Oh.
The message faded as quickly as it had appeared, but the Queen's left eye didn't blink. He felt the shadow of a hand press against his back, prompting him about the proper manners in this world.
Lucian gripped the walking cane harder.
He'd been exhumed. Summoned.
This was an audience.
Nervously, he bowed before the Half-Dead Queen, and she curtsied in return.
She smiled and the room itself breathed a sigh of relief.
"Hello, mortician."