Gabriel staggers into the grand hall like a ghost of his former self. The scene before him is one he had never imagined even in his worst dreams. A personal nightmare built from the remains of his beloved family.

  Each body, whether it be kin or Stygian, bore the marks of a violent end: They were stabbed, sliced, crushed, bludgeoned, burned, frozen, beaten, maimed, rended, torn, and eviscerated unto death, for the sake of death.

  "No... let there be someone left. Please," Gabriel whispers, holding back any more tears that threaten to fall. He clutches his wounded side tightly as he feels his life force drain from his body.

  The once-grand hall, where laughter and feasts had filled the air only a half hour prior, was now in a complete state of disrepair.

  The room reeks of blood and the early stages of decay. Gabriel's eyes dart between the remnants of his family, his heart aches as he sees a pair of twins, a year older than his sister. They’re hand in hand, even in death.

  "Bernhard, Liesel, I’m glad you two had each other in the end…"

  Gabriel looks away, and holds a hand over his mouth, stifling back a cry of anguish. His naturally long strides became short steps now, but he forces himself to march deeper into the living nightmare before him.

  "Please, let there be anyone. Anyone at all," he prays, clinging to the hope that kept him from succumbing to the emptiness threatening to consume him.

  In the corner of the room is a rock-like dome with a small entrance. Gabriel tries to peek inside, but comes face to face with a woman. Her eyes are cloudy, and as he reaches for her, her body slumps forward. The open cavity behind her is revealed to be filled with over two dozen dead Stygian’s at the least. Her back has been completely obliterated, and her spinal column is visible.

  "Miriam…"

  Miriam and Gabriel never got along. She was always trying to pick fights, and prove her worth over him. Even if it was by trying to purposefully sabotage Gabriel in any way possible. She… fought dirty despite her strength, and this shows as toxic gases leak out of the dome she’d made. She must have lured in as many as she could, and then thrown one of those potions of hers, releasing a toxic gas before she sealed the entrance with her own body.

  Gabriel is delicate with her, and turns her onto her back. Her breathing is shallow and short. Upon further examination, Miriam’s ribcage is exposed, and the blood in her body is closer to jelly than it is a liquid. She lets out a weak groan, and Gabriel lowers himself, pressing his forehead against hers as he takes his hand in hers.

  "Hey, it’s okay, I’m here."

  Miriam grunts weakly, and squeezes Gabriel’s hand with more strength than he expects.

  "I know, I’m probably not who you were hoping for, but you’re stuck with me. You…did well. Ethel would be proud."

  Miriam’s entire body moves up and down as she lets out a soft wheeze. If Gabriel had to guess, it was probably that gruff laugh of hers trying to fight its way to the surface.

  "Of course, that isn’t what you want to hear, is it? Someone with an ego as big as yours doesn’t want a pat on the back, or to go out easily. You’ll live on in my memories, but that’s not enough for you, so I give you my word, Miriam. I will carry that ego of yours into the future, and bring death to each and every Stygian in my path. Even if I don’t cross them, I will forge new paths forward, I will hunt them until the end days if it’s what I need to do. Please die, and rest knowing that everything is in my hands."

  Miriam lets go of Gabriel’s hand, and reaches for her sash. There is one potion left. With her remaining strength, Miriam presses it into Gabriel’s hand, and then flashes one final smile before her grip loosens.

  Gabriel takes hold of the concoction, and sets Miriam down. The glint of metal catches Gabriel’s eye and he looks over to see his shortsword, the same that Miriam had taken earlier. It’s sticking out of a nearby Stygian’s skull. He always knew Miriam was strong, but this truly set the example.

  Miriam was strong, and she fought dirty. Gabriel too, would fight dirty if it meant one more Stygian could die tonight.

  In a near catatonic state, Gabriel barely skirts the edge of sanity as he searches for any other sign of life amongst the wreckage. As he approaches the head of the table, an uncanny sight greets him. His father's severed head, an expression of fear etched permanently on his face. The realization that his own father had been afraid in his final moments pierces Gabriel's heart like no dagger could.

  "Father..." he croaks, tears streaming down his cheeks now. "I'm so sorry, I didn’t know, I couldn’t have kno-"

  Gabriel’s legs give out beneath him as he stumbles back and over a severed arm, collapsing onto the cold, unforgiving ground. And yet, even as he lay there, broken and defeated, a small flicker of hope refuses to be extinguished within him.

  "Please," he begs the unseen forces that govern this world, "don't let this be all there is. There has to be someone else, anyone… Elias! Clara!" Gabriel cried out for his brother, and for his sister. The only solace being that he hadn’t found them amongst the dead. Yet.

  The silence that follows is a crushing weight upon Gabriel’s soul, but amidst the desolation, Gabriel clings to the faintest thread of hope. He would not, could not, allow himself to believe that there was no one. There had to be a survivor.

  Gabriel was a proud member of the Dread Requiem, but this dread he felt rising from the pits of his soul was far too much for him to handle.

  "Lord Death, guide me. Show me the way forward, for I cannot bear this pain alone."

  But his prayer falls on deaf ears.

  Gabriel wills himself to stand, but between the pain, and the amount of blood he had lost, such a feat proved to be out of reach now. His battered body slowly begins to surrender to the cold embrace of death. Gabriel lay among the corpses of friends, family, and foe alike, and to the naked eye, he wouldn’t look out of place. Gabriel closes his eyes to the world around him, the deafening silence is the greatest of lullabies, pulling him and his weary soul into a deep, deep slumber. He was a member of the Dread Requiem, but this dread was too much for him. It’s time to sleep with the dead.

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  "I’m sorry for breaking my promise to you so soon, Miriam…"

  As Gabriel speaks his last words, a whisper reaches his ears.

  This sound is not like the ethereal murmurings of the Grave-Breaker, but rather a tangible, corporeal whisper emanating from beneath the table. That fragile thread of hope rekindles within him, urging him to ignore the searing pain as he forces himself onto his side, crawling through the gruesome remnants of his lineage. With each agonizing movement, he draws closer to the source of the whispers, until at last he passes the threshold of the tablecloth, revealing what lay underneath.

  There, amidst the darkness and gore, knelt a woman with dark, pixie cut hair, her head drooped low. Her voice trembles with uncharacteristic sorrow as she prays, "O Keeper of the Veil, Death's eternal embrace, we beseech thee, hear our sorrowful plea. In thy benevolence, accept their weary souls, guide them through shadows to realms untold..."

  "Sarah!" Gabriel rasps, his voice barely louder than her whispered prayer. Startled, she lifts her head to meet his gaze, but her once black eyes are now nothing more than bloodied, hollow sockets. The sight strikes Gabriel like a physical blow. His heart had been alight with joy, but that joy just as quickly turned to dread again.

  Sarah's voice trembles as she calls out to him. "Gabriel? Is that you? I…I can't see anything…" Her words pierce the suffocating silence, and Gabriel finds himself forcibly stifling the visceral emotions that threaten to consume him. He had never seen Sarah like this, and knew he needed to be strong for her now.

  "Th-That's right. I can't see anything either... The Stygian's performed an ancient ritual, 'Shadowfall.' No one can see anything right now."

  "Is that so? I've never heard of such a ritual before…"

  This was not the Sarah that Gabriel knew. The Sarah he knew was brash, rude even, she hated being around people, and even more than that, hated talking to them. Her attitude was entirely off, but strangely enough, he could tell it was her. The dip in her voice that no assassin could mimic if they spent a lifetime trying to learn it. The undertone of annoyance that was present even in her obviously trauma-induced state, this was the Sarah he knew. So he would do what was best for her in the moment.

  "Trust me," Gabriel insists, his voice laced with conviction. "That's what happened."

  He continues quickly, eager to distract her from the grisly scene surrounding them. One lie comes to mind.

  One hero.

  One myth.

  The oldest Crowsong, and the strongest among them. A member of the Abyssal Requiem.

  "Mortimer has already been alerted, and he’s on the move. He’s coming to help us."

  Sarah's surprise is evident in her voice. "Really?... Mortimer? But nobody has heard from him in years. At this point, he's more of a fairytale than a member of this family, isn’t he?..."

  Gabriel can sense her skepticism but presses on regardless.

  "Believe me, Sarah. He's coming. Now, tell me, what were you praying for?"

  A shadow falls across Sarah's face, and Gabriel can tell she’s holding something back. Nevertheless, she speaks quietly, her voice laden with grief. "Gabriel, the patriarch. Your father, I…I think he's gone."

  "I know."

  "I was praying for Lord Victor’s soul to find its eternal resting place with ease," Sarah continues, and begins to cry. Where tears once might've run, only blood flows now. Slow, and silent. As if the sorrow itself had been tainted a deep shade of red. "But nobody else is joining in with me…"

  Sarah holds her hand out, presumably following the sound of Gabriel’s voice. As he reaches out to take it, he notices that Sarah's right arm is gone, the wound raw and jagged as if it had been torn from her body with great force.

  "Gabriel? Will you pray with me?" she asks, her voice soft and pleading, like a fearful child's.

  "Of course," he whispers, gently clasping her hand within his own. But the moment the two make contact, a searing pain jolts through him. Sarah's grip tightens, and in an instant, Gabriel's memories flash before them, starting from the first moment he found those eyes in his shadow.

  This was the way that Sarah had climbed her way to the Eternal Requiem, and it was why she hated to be around others. She couldn’t control it, this power of hers. Her unique ability was betraying them both now. Though he could easily break free from her grasp, he couldn't bring himself to do it. Not when she'd already been hurt so much.

  So, with a heavy heart, Gabriel stills himself, allowing Sarah to read his mind, and bear witness to the horrifying truth of the situation they were in.

  As the gruesome images of carnage and death play out before her, Sarah's grip on Gabriel's hand begins to loosen. The harsh reality of their situation washing over her, and she can’t help but let out a bitter, guttural laugh as her demeanor shifts back to its usual crude and hardened state.

  "Those fucks took my eyes, and my arm?" she growls through gritted teeth, her voice a mixture of pain and rage. She then turns to face Gabriel, though she cannot see him. "Don't think I'm upset with you for lying, but Mortimer… Seriously? That’s the best fucking lie you could come up with?" A heavy silence hangs between the two of them before Sarah lets out another shallow laugh.

  "I can’t remember what happened here. I… can’t remember the past hour all that well actually," Sarah says, letting out a groan of annoyance shortly after.

  "It’s likely they knew of your ability early on and put you under some type of a trance. You weren’t yourself."

  "Right, I remember someone bumping into me and then… and then it’s just like you said, it was like I was in a dream…"

  Gabriel remained silent upon hearing her words. The Stygians were truly prepared. He thought of the wound at his side, and the seemingly one sided battle that happened here. They used Marcus’s body to make him hesitate. His love for his family was the source of this wound.

  They must have had someone leak information to them, but who?

  Still holding onto Gabriel's hand, Sarah can sense his emotions as clear as her own.

  "Hey, quit thinking about all that shit. That’s not important now. Lord Victor never decided on a successor. You know what that means, right? In the event that the last family head was unable to decide a writ of accession, then it goes to the highest ranking member of the clan at present."

  Gabriel's heart clenches as he hears her words, such a thought hadn’t even crossed his mind.

  "Sarah, I’m not..." His voice trails off, uncertainty gripping him.

  "Listen to me," Sarah interrupted, her tone firm yet understanding. "As the new Patriarch, it's up to you to look after whatever remains of us. You know what Ethel is always saying. As long as one remains, they can pick up the pieces. Rebuild."

  A distant pair of footsteps echo through the ruined hall, sending shivers down their spines. Sarah's grip on Gabriel's hand loosens as she slips away.

  "That's why I need to do this. Silent Shroud." The words are spoken quickly, and Gabriel has no time to resist as the spell quickly takes effect. His lips clamp shut, and they refuse to part.

  "Everything is in your hands, Lord Gabriel. Stay safe, play dead, and when you've regained your strength? Make good on your promise to Miriam."

  With that, Sarah abandons the safety of the table, preparing to face the oncoming Stygian’s. A flurry of emotions fills Gabriel's heart as he watches her. Admiration, fear, sorrow, and more than anything, pain.

  "Sarah!" he tries to call out to her, but he can’t. He wills his body to move, but it’s too weak to listen. All he can do is watch Sarah, already on Death’s doorstep, leave to face their enemies.