Nice digs, Death said. Wonder who I have to ask to get a polar bear skin on the floor of my office?

  The one thing that Ever struggled with was all of the strange ‘lingo’ that Death had picked up. But as he floated in place in the middle of the gargantuan living room, tiled with porcelain and original Renaissance paintings adorning the walls, he could insinuate that ‘digs’ had something to do with the opulence of the house.

  The polar bear skin that his mentor was referring to was on the floor, head facing an empty fireplace. On top of the skin was a high-backed red velvet chair that looked like it could have belonged in a castle.

  OK enough lollygagging, let’s find the old soul that kicked the bucket.

  Ever saw some maids bustling up some stairs, stacks of fluffy, white towels in place, so he followed them.

  “Whoa!”

  Ever bumped into the ghost right in the middle of the stairwell. The maids continued on up, completely unaware.

  “I’m sorry,” Ever said, “I didn’t see you there.”

  There was an air of refinement about the ghost. While he clasped his hands behind his back, he wasn’t hunched over too much. He peered through his monocle down at Ever.

  “And who might you be?” He asked gruffly.

  Ever floated back down the stairwell. “My name is Ever, I am Death’s apprentice.” He held the scythe out in front of him. “I am here to help you go to the Underworld.”

  This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

  “The Underworld?” The old man scoffed. “Now why would I want to go there?” Ever hovered quietly in place without an answer. The ghost spun in a huff and started going back up the stairs.

  *What’s his name, Mentor?*

  There was the sound of a few pages being turned. It’s Louis.

  Ever swirled up the stairs. The corridor stretched far both left and right, with doors hewn from oak, fitted with an ornate, bronze door handle. Ever found Louis looking up at something on the wall opposite a double oak door, which had both sides open. One of the maids from before went out through the door. She looked at the same thing that Louis was admiring, made a face, then continued down the hall. Ever floated over to Louis’ side. Bearing down on them was a painted portrait of himself from his younger days.

  “That’s an… impressive painting, Louis.”

  The old soul looked at him sharply. “‘Lewis?’ How dare you! I am Louis the First!”

  Ah ‘Loo-wee’, got it. I was never good at French, Death mumbled.

  “I’m sorry, I’ve never met a ‘Louis’ before.”

  Ever’s apology fell on deaf ears. The haughty ghost had floated down the hall to the next door to look up at another painting. Ever floated over once again and looked up. It was another portrait, this time of a woman. She carried the same air of refinement as Louis, but had soft eyes and a smile that was deep, yet subtle.

  “This is your daughter?” Ever guessed.

  “Was.”

  Ever looked at him intently. “She has passed?”

  “No, you fool,” he snapped. “She wouldn’t bear me any heirs and I…” he held his tongue at the last second. “I don’t have to tell you any of this. Get out of my manor.”

  Ever floated backwards slightly, clutching the unresponsive scythe in both hands in front of him.

  Let’s go, Ever, Death said quietly, nothing we can do here.