Keep Me by Brien Feathers

Author:Brien Feathers [Brien Feathers]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Brien Feathers
Published: 2024-03-21T00:00:00+00:00

Ayame spent the day on the roof of the ministry, crouched among the birds and the god figurines. With mystics and wardens coming in and out of the building, the ministry was lively throughout the whole day but began calming after nightfall.

The book of the living clutched at her chest, Ayame waited for the Voice to be alone. He wouldn’t be truly alone as there were always wardens, but she didn’t want to take on more than one mystic at a time. They practiced different arts, most of them dark, and she didn’t wish to press her luck too much. Besides, she couldn’t simply kill the nasty creature. She had to question him about the book, about how to add names to the pages. He must know. There had to be a way. She refused to believe otherwise. Because otherwise, there was no purpose to her life.

Over the centuries, the ministry had moved to the fringe of the city, expanded, added wings and interconnected towers, becoming the dark web of a venomous spider. Fresh servants being brought to the palace or sentries for the armies passed through the ministry to be vetted for their loyalty to the emperor, or so she’d been told, but the people being hauled in daily were in chains.

Courtiers didn’t come here. Why would they? This was the poor prefecture. And Ayame had avoided the wretched place up until now because the floor of the realm had collapsed after a quake and a hole the size of a small pond had opened to the underworld. The reason the ministry was moved was to contain the site. The breach was fenced and netted over with iron rods inscribed with sacred sutras, and wardens stood on watch. Ayame only observed it from a distance but couldn’t help noticing the cage had a door. Why, though? Who were they letting in from the underworld?

The air stunk of sulfur, and after dark the pond glowed like embers of a dying fire. The ministry had quieted down with the mystics going home, and the cargo had stopped coming. Now was the time to approach the Voice. Ayame climbed down from the roof, slid open a dark window, and snuck in.

Incense seeped hallways were quiet, apothecary doors left open, but the underground tiers were filled with murmurs and soft cries. People in cages grabbed at Ayame’s robe as she walked by. She begged them to be quiet, and one woman tried to pass a small child through the bars. Instinctively, Ayame reached in and held the child, but the bars were too narrow. The girl’s head wouldn’t fit.

“Is this hell?” asked a soot covered man, wide eyed.

“It’s judgment, isn’t it?” asked another. He was in a death robe. “Everyone, remain calm. We’ll be assigned to our proper places once we’re assessed.”

“Screw that!” yelled a youth. He’d been fiddling with the lock. These weren’t like any servants or sentries Ayame had seen. She wondered what the procedure was for making them… loyal.

“Where did you come from?” she asked.

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