Free Death of the Body (Crossing Death) by Rick Chiantaretto Page A

much time, so I must write quickly just in case. If anything happens to me, I hope you manage to make it, somehow, to my office. It is, indeed, the safest place for you and, I’m hoping, for me.
     
    Though you have probably already figured most of this out, my intelligent boy, Joshua has killed the patriarch and betrayed us all. It appears he has made a deal with the energumen: our eternal slavery in exchange for their service to him.
     
    If you survive and I do not, you must know what our family does for the world. I will leave a book for you. You must read through it fully, for by understanding it you will have access to the powers of the seven levels through the seven doors, which you will need in order to fulfill your destiny and our family’s legacy.
     
    I am also leaving you my ring, which I wish for you to keep with you always. It has
     
    I turned the parchment over, but there was no more to my father’s letter. I read it again and again, to the point of committing it to memory. My father wasn’t an affectionate man. His compliment in the letter made me feel pride and love. The book he spoke of must be the one still on the desk. I pried it from beneath his fingers and read the cover.
     
    Crossing Death
     
    I flipped through the pages, but as far as I could tell every page was blank. I added confusion to my pile of emotions.
    The ring was easy to find. I knew exactly which one my father was talking about because he never took it off. When I was younger, I asked him about the ring and he told me it was a special family heirloom that would be passed to me one day. The ring was such a part of him that I soon forgot about it. But sure enough, the ring was set carefully on the desk close to the book. The fact that it wasn’t on his finger seemed ominous to me, but at the same time I was grateful I wouldn’t have to deal with removing it myself.
    The ring had an allure that was hard to describe. It was bright silver and caught the light so completely that the red ruby at the center appeared as if it were set within a shining white flame. Surrounding the ruby was a setting that I had never studied the detail of before. The silver that surrounded the center stone was molded into three skulls. An intricate ivy design filled the hollow spaces and trailed down between the fingers. My mother once called it the death ring. The reference seemed more than fitting at this moment.
    I knew that to understand the things my father said I would have to make it to the ruins as soon as possible. I realized I must have slept most of the day away because I could see the mirrored faux sky changing to a late afternoon hue of blue. I shoved the book down my shirt and folded my father’s letter neatly before placing it in my shirt pocket. As I reached into that pocket, my fingers tenderly brushed the acorn that would be my last offering to my great home of Orenda. I placed the ring on my finger—surprised that it fit my small hand—stole a final glance at my father, swore under my breath that I would avenge his death, and left the office.
    In that moment, something changed for me. I hadn’t really considered myself to be a child at this point in my life anyway, but now I had no choice but to leave behind all childish things. I grew up. The emotion that had been my constant companion for the last day was replaced by resolve. I resolved to figure out the mystery of the book. I resolved that my father would not die in vain. I resolved that I would protect my friends until my dying breath. Most of all, I resolved that Joshua would pay for his crimes, and that I would be the one to make him pay.
     
     
     

    Five
     
    I waited on the inside of the mirror for the people in the hall to clear, but strangely, not because I was afraid of them. I waited to avoid conflict, sure, but only because I still had a conscience and didn’t want to see any of them end up dead. The glass of the mirror sensed my resolve. It dissolved more easily this