Why Sealand Can't Plan a Prank (And Why You Shouldn't Let Belarus Help Him)

Part 4

         A tiny trickle of crimson ran from the wide snow-colored door, painting the flawless space red. Each nation felt their heart constrict. Who could it be? Wanting to turn and run but unwilling to risk being separated from their companions, they carefully started forward, eyeing the stream of blood as it spread at a crawling pace towards their shoes. Lithuania cracked open the door, then leaped back with a shriek, bumping awkwardly into Russia (and America). He apologized profusely--it was all he could think to do to distract himself from the scene he had glimpsed.

        "It is alright. What did you see, Lithuania?" Russia implored with concern. Lithuania's mouth opened, then closed again. He squeezed his eyes shut and pressed his hands to his temples.

          "I-- I can't," he breathed.

            Switzerland pushed the door open fully before stepping back in shock. Greece rushed forward, quicker than anyone had ever seen him move, and sank to his knees. Placing one hand over his mouth, Germany appeared to be hyperventilating as he drank in the sight of the body laying before him.

            A puddle of blood surrounded Japan's corpse, his gentle brown eyes staring blankly at the ceiling. A serrated silver knife protruded from his chest, one hand hanging limply off the hilt as though he had been trying to pull the blade out of his heart. Greece was solemn, almost disbelieving. Just as Russia had done, he pressed his lover's eyes closed and cradled his body close, despairing when he felt no breaths escaping the Asian nation's lips.

           Greece had held on to hope that he would see Japan again for as long as he could, but now he knew that he had been too late to save him. For the longest time, Greece had been lonely, nobody by his side but his cats. He was sure that it would drive him mad eventually, but then he had met Japan. It had been as though his whole world had suddenly meant something again, but now there was nothing. He was alone once more.

             "I'm going to stay with him," Greece said to the shock of several countries.

              "This pains me to say, but we should all stay together in one group. It will be safer," Germany tried to convince him in a hushed tone.

               Greece's jaw was set, his voice certain as the sunrise when he proclaimed, "I won't leave."

               Germany was apprehensive, frustrated over being ignored and shocked at his friend's death in equal measure.

             "We should keep moving," he emphasized, wrenching his eyes off of Japan before walking to the end of the hallway, followed by the rest of the nations, who were all giving Greece sympathetic looks, but were clearly in distress from the mental overload they had been subjected to. They were more than ready to have a chance to grieve in peace, but with the apparent traps and dangers around every corner, they clearly weren't in the best place to do so.

              With the group now one member smaller, they resumed their nervous silence, passing through room after room, empty as could be but all equipped with yet another door waiting to be opened. By the time they reached a wide, circular room, several minutes had passed, though the countries' agitated brains had warped time so much that it felt like it had been hours. Tiles covered with black symbols coated the floor, emitting a strange silvery glow.

             "I recognize these marks," Britain said in awe. "It's a demon-summoning circle!"

              "Oh, come on, we know that your stupid spells don't really work," Romano griped, folding his arms. To prove the point, he stalked all the way to the center of the floor and spread his arms to his sides.