How to Catch a Fish (ManxMan)

Original Chapter Twenty-Seven: Throne of Shadows

[AN: This chapter starts out rather dark. You have been warned.]

~Chapter Twenty-Seven: Throne of Shadows~

Sitting up with a gasp as I am once again able to breathe, I am surprised to find myself in the middle of the throne room. It is empty of everything except a repaired throne and black blood spatters everywhere. There is even blood on the ceiling, which drips down to create small puddles on the floor. However, there are no Mer guards or cloaked intruders. Just me, myself, and I.

I run my hands over my torso to feel for the bullet wound, and then pause when I realize that I can move my right arm without hindrance. Looking down, I can see that my left hand is no longer marred with cuts from catching the dagger and there are no holes in my shirt from the bullet or the knife. Blood still covers my shirt and hands, though, proving that I was, in fact, injured. However, even when I lift up my shirt, I cannot find the bullet hole or the dagger wound, only flawless skin under my tattoos.

Wondering if I just imagined the whole fight and somehow got covered in black paint or something, I stand up and head for the doors, intent on finding the king, who will hopefully be able to explain why I was passed out on the floor. When I try to open them, though, the doors remain closed. No matter how hard I push and pull, they remain closed. Kicking them does not work either. Trying to melt the lock does just as much as kicking it did.

Someone must have sealed it with magic.

I immediately turn around to seek out the servant's corridor, but the object in the middle of the room catches my attention before I can find the way out. Because in the middle of the room, right where I was sitting only moments ago, is a grey-skinned demon body. My demon body. And it is surrounded by a pool of my blood. Finding the hidden door does not seem all that important.

Nero...Nero isn't going to like this.

Taking a shaky deep breath, I lean back against the door as I survey the scene. Even from here, I can see all the injuries I sustained in the fight on the body and I am almost certain that I am dead. After all, there is no way I could have survived losing all that blood. That is, if I was even alive when I started bleeding out. Very few things will survive being shot through the heart, and a demon is not one of them.

Sliding down to the floor, I force out a humorless laugh, rubbing my hand over my face. Not exactly what I was expecting in the underworld. Must be my own personal hell.

- - - - - - -

While it is impossible to tell, I would assume that some time has passed since I ended up sitting on the ground. I am not sure if I spent the time waiting for something to happen or if I was just mentally preparing myself to approach my body, but I eventually get up when the silence becomes too loud. Ironic, huh?

Walking towards my body proves to be a lot harder than I would like, as each step I take is one step closer to me throwing up. It feels so wrong to be looking at myself like this and I cannot help but wonder if this is another one of my twisted nightmares. If so, they certainly have reached a whole new level of disturbing.

I really hope Nero wakes me up from this one soon.

Kneeling in the puddle of blood to get a closer look at my body, I grind my teeth to keep from retching at how horrible everything looks up close. It was easier to look at the injuries when they were part of me, not now when I am looking at them from an outside point of view. "This is so messed up," I groan, breathing deeply while trying to remind myself that I am already dead, so these injuries do not matter.

Only, they do, because I'm not dead.

It takes me an embarrassingly long amount of time to realize that my body's chest is, in fact, rising and falling. Caught between horror and awe, I hold my hand up to my nose – the body's nose – and, sure enough, I can feel a small breeze as my body continues to breathe despite the fact that it – I – should be dead. Just to be one hundred percent certain that my senses are not messing with me, I lightly press my fingers to the bloody throat.