Chapter 8

"Sir." The skeleton bowed when he reached the throne, top hat clasped to his chest.

The grand onyx throne rumbled, black wisps erupting and curling up towards the arching ceiling, like some sort of thin blanket being pushed through the cracks and pushed upwards by air.

"Ezechielio."

The suited figure stiffened. "Not many call me by that name anymore."

The voice seemed amused. "Then what do you go by?"

"Ezekiel."

"Hmm..." The voice taunted. "Doesn't quite seem... Lithuanian enough."

The skull perched atop a spine spat out, "Well, seeing as my nationality doesn't matter anymore, it's no longer part of who I am."

The voice tutted. "Testy today, aren't we?"

"You know very well what I want." Ezekiel's eye sockets darkened.

"But you know very well that it is the one thing I cannot grant you." Death looked down upon the skeleton.

The End

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