It has been a long while. I do not remember everything, but I shall do my best.

When I was as young as I was when I first met Fox, I was still able to draw on memories lucidly enough that I relived them. I would close my eyes and see the guild, the dragon from the Hearth, the weapon shop, or even the Duat, as I came to know Abasi's home. That's back when I was unconscious of the words that bled from my single messy pen, when I would close my eyes and move my hand as I relived the memories one by one, when the fear or anger or apprehension I felt back then would roar back at me like a long-forgotten beast that has not forgotten me.

I do remember that the Rift, on the day where I last left off, was darker than the concept of darkness itself. You see, darkness contrasts light. The Duat Rift ate light, or at least it seemed to when I stood in front of it that day in the tavern, that one time when the assassins (plus Eldrin) kidnapped a dwarf and dragged me along. The fact that Eldrin's magic had brought me here was probably an accident on his part, but I'm glad for it.

I still have the paper from when I tried to recall this incident about a week after it happened. I never did complete it:

I don't think I've ever stared at anything so stupidly. And as you most likely know already, I stare at many things pretty stupidly, especially when I don't understand them. Take Abasi, for example. He just found out that he can't die permanently, and his reaction is 'Oh, yeah. So that's cool'. I'm very annoyed at how confusing it is to try to figure him out.

But of course, I don't gawk at him like I'm gawking at the Rift he just opened.

The concept that he was the son of a death god is easier to grasp than the sight of Deathrealm Rift in front of me. It was black at first, but now it's giving off violet sparks and occasionally makes a strange popping noise that reminds me of what Abasi mentioned earlier about making portals that exploded.

I'm not a fan of exploding.

Rhys has his own account of how things transpired that day, but I'll only scribble down a part of it. He's very opinionated, so I would brace myself:

"Can I go, pleeeeeeeeeeease?" that one siren girl begged the Egyptian demigod in a way that was not unlike a dog going crazy over the slightest mention of a walk, particularly a Chihuahua because those accursed creatures are the dog versions of goblins. In fact, I can tell of a certain experience where--

You're going off topic, Rhys.

Shut up. Of course, the aforementioned assassin wished to traverse into the Egyptian Underworld before she dies. I don't think I need to explain the irony of this to you.

"Really? You want to be killed by my father, or something?" Abasi asked her incredulously, though in consideration of the fact that Ama Keymaker is the same person that interrupted a serpent-god debate with the mention of a turkey-eating streak, he really shouldn't have been surprised. As a matter of fact, if I were him I wouldn't have bothered to--

Rhys--

Shut. Up.

"Your father probably won't mind," scoffed Keymaker with a wave of dismissal at the demigod.

"How can you imagine that venturing drunk in the Land of the Dead is a good idea?" asked a wholly clueless Severin in a manner that was exactly as oblivious as she always is.

"I ain't drunk yet!" was the female assassin's response.

Abasi rolled his eyes, most likely giving up on human(oid) intelligence as a whole.

"Fine," he grunted before passing through the Rift.

"Yes!" cheered his hapless guildmate, eager to die.

"But respect my father," he ordered, sticking his head out of the Rift to shoot Ama a glare before popping back into the shadows.

Ama scoffed, rolling her eyes as if the request was offensive. "I know how to respect people, but I mostly decide not to do it."

Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you the summation of teenager egotism.

But, Rhys, she's eighteen years old, so she's an adult. News flash, Junior: The humanoid brain does not mature until you are twenty-five years old. Keep that in mind the next time you see some teenager with either magic, a weapon, or a magic weapon. Teenagers with powers, give me a break! Kids these days, thinking they ought to go kill people to distract themselves from their miserable little lives. I tell you, it's pathetic--

I'm stopping the excerpt here, mostly because everything he said after that had less to do with the events that happened and more with his personal opinion (I eventually had to wrestle him away so that I could continue in peace). This is myself trying to put it as nicely as I can because a certain idiot snake is looking over my shoulder again. Go away, Rhys.

Around the time Abasi finally agreed to let Ama go with him, the beer was finally getting to Eldrin's brain. Now, I've seen some very strange things in my lifetime, but the sort of things that spilled from Eldrin's drunken stupor makes me question his mental state to this day, and it was only natural that I wanted to get out of there fast.

The Duat was much more welcoming than the tavern. I am not being facetious, though I had been expecting the stuff of which legends are made, the myths that I had been spoonfed with as a child. I had been anticipating desolation, a barren landscape, and darkness--because darkness was much, much better than the river of fire.

Instead, we arrived at the threshold of a house. Not a palace fit for a Death Prince, as Ama had called Abasi. It was a normal house of dark wood that one wouldn't be surprised to see in the nicer neighborhoods of a suburban village. It was actually very homey.

Ama had felt the need to announce our presence, "Alright! We're here!"

I was the uninvited party, and of course, I felt out-of-place not so much because this was the Land of the Dead but because it wasn't my land of the dead. As if I would have felt more comfortable in either Fólkvangr or Valhalla.

"Oh, look, an undead spider," I grumbled. "Fascinating."

Abasi ignored both of us and walked down the hallway before disappearing into a different section. When he realized that neither of us was following, he reappeared and exasperatedly beckoned us over.

"My father has a kitchen, you know," was his special way of telling us to hurry the hell up.

"I thought that gods neither ate nor bled," I said as I followed him to the kitchen of the death god, which was unimpressive. In fact, the kitchen looked so normal that it was disturbing.

"He eats for fun, like when he's bored or something," Abasi replied. "And he does bleed, sheesh. We Egyptians are too different from the Norse when you think about it."

"So what do you guys even eat in the Duat?" asked Ama.

Apparently, they ate meat and lots of it. Abasi had remembered that I had mentioned only eating fish and vegetables, which was more because I couldn't afford meat than anything else, and had thrown a fish at me while getting a turkey leg from himself.

"Take it," was my only warning as he flung it at me without looking.

Ama had caught it when she had thrown one at her. Me, I was too distracted to register what exactly Ama had caught and was wholly unprepared to catch a raw fish at high speed.

My hand shot out reflexively as if it knew to catch it, but I tried to duck at the same time and lost my footing. I slipped backward into the sink, and my head connected with the knob and turned the water on.

Neither Ama nor Abasi was amused.

"Ugh, seriously? It's a fish, how could you be defeated by a fish?"

"You gotta be kidding me."

I refused to eat after that. I was sulky enough that I watched them eat from a few feet away, offering snide comments that seemed clever back then that I cringe at now. I did relax eventually, and Abasi and I talked about our different death deities and remarked at what would happen if they met. We got bored eventually, and at long last, to no one's surprise or objection, Ama suggested an exploration of the Duat.

Her exact words upon our agreement were, "Then onward, towards death!" as she pointed dramatically forward.

To which Abasi replied, "That way is to the river where you'll be stripped of your form. That way is to the gift shop."

"Jormungand, she just doesn't stop," I muttered. Whether it was to myself or Abasi, I still don't know.

"Let's go, Sev! I wanna see the gift shop!" Ama then swung the door open with a bang before practically skipping out.

Abasi only nodded at me. "Get used to it."

I tripped again on the way out. I had frenzied several times in one day and was paying dearly for it. I had to break into a short-lived run (my poor foot felt as if it were connected to my ankle by a hinge! It never did heal... ) and catch up to the two assassins.

"Lemme guess, you tripped," asserted Ama almost immediately.

"I don't have legs when I shift, what do you expect? Besides, I should be fine now," I muttered the last sentence with more indignancy than confidence. I was trying to be tough the same way the pair of assassins seemed tough. It was not working. Sadly.

"You should practice walking first after you shift," Ama suggested mid-skip. "That's probably the smartest and most obvious thing to do."

"I usually only shift when I need to, in which case I don't have time to relearn walking." I decided to change the subject. Something had been nagging at me for a while. "Question: Why is it 'Sev' all of a sudden?"

"Well, because... ," she faltered, " ... Fox makes nicknames and I wanted to give people nicknames too."

"Fox already dubbed me 'Professor Dirt'," I said, not wanting to mention 'Dirt Girl' and slightly proud of the upgrade. "I'd think that would give you more satisfaction."

"I don't want to copy nicknames, though. It makes me seem uncreative."

"And we can't have that," I muttered before turning to Abasi. While I was there, I might as well ask about the place. I told myself that I only wanted to know for the sake of knowing, not because I wanted to talk to the boy. Definitely not because I was curious about this Death Prince that somehow ended up with life as an assassin. "Does your river of death differ from Gjöllr?"

"You know what else seems uncreative?" piped up Ama. "Your religions."

"I—you—god—what—!" I cleverly orated with my adept speaking skills.

"Think about it," she said with a smirk. "You two have death gods that can't leave their realms, and both realms have a river of death. I could say more, but I don't feel like it."

I protested feebly, in shock that she would go so far as to challenge my beliefs. Abasi gave me support--or, more likely, he gave his religion his support.

"First off, the Egyptians don't have a specified living space and live in the mortal realm," he said with a shrug. "The Norse have Asgard."

"Not just Asgard." Encouraged, I spoke up. "There's Helheim, Vanaheim, Niflheim... "

We began to excitedly speak over each other.

"Yeah, we don't have that. Just the Duat--"

"Humans live in Midgard--"

"--and the living realm--"

"--but everything's connected by a tree--"

That was when we encountered the gift shop. The Duat gift shop had nothing but postcards with puns on them and Abasi committed suicide only minutes after our arrival.

We left as soon as he came back to life because apparently, we had seen all that we were allowed to see: a house and a gift shop surrounded by nothing but desert. I wasn't sure whether to be disappointed or relieved. Not many can say that they've been to a Deathrealm and back, but the fact that I hadn't seen anything interesting dampened the experience somewhat.

Though it was probably safer that way, given that we had Amaryllis Keymaker with us.

Just like that, we were back at the Seven Thorns assassin's guild. The Rift opened inside the library, and I stepped out without tripping over my feet. I felt more comfortable with myself and couldn't figure out why until I realized that Rhys was still at the tavern, miles away. My face split into a wide grin that Abasi raised his eyebrows at, but I didn't care. I was ecstatic--

Okay! We get the point! You were happy to see me gone, now get on with it!

All right. I mean, be quiet, Rhys! Ah... Now I've lost my spot.

Give me a moment.