Wading Thru the Sea of Dead

The old witch followed Heimdall out into the fray of the fallen. She was terrified of the dead, now and every day of her life that had come before. She had grown accustomed to hearing their voices and seeing their grizzly visage and feeling their cold fingers groping and tugging for her attention and flesh -- and she put on a brave face to the world, but it still terrified her. It would terrify anyone. The compulsions she had to do unsavory things on behalf of the dead disgusted her, but she was terrified that one day she’d no longer be able to work even that control over the spirits. She had a powerful connection to the afterlife and without control over that connection she'd be pulled in and consumed by it. The others knew death, but they knew nothing beyond that and Cali envied them their ignorance.

As they moved through the prisoners of Hell, her eyes fell on the sword at Heimdall's side. Instruments of death too had a powerful connection to the afterlife. That's why they needed the sword bound as it had been by the dead. But she had not known Jorrik's true identity then and now was not the time to discuss it.

They were surrounded by the ambling dead in all directions. The dead were aware of them, but they made no attempts to hinder their progress. They made no attempts to move out of the way either. Cali was forced to push her way through their masses like squeezing through a crowd at the fair. The dead noticed, snarling and snapping at the intrusion, but never giving pursuit.

The worst part was that she recognized so many of them. Some bore the essence and names of those who approached her at some time or another for assistance while others she recognized as those she’d called on for protection during combat or healing. But now they treated her like a stranger. Hel’s domain had room for one Mistress and one Mistress alone. Cali tried to keep her head down to avoid those accusing eyes. But mingled in among the dead were the faces of seven corpses whose feminine beauty in life still lingered about their rotting remains. These were seven identical sisters slain in their youth and their hands reached out for Cali. They were not friendly hands. They clawed for Cali and it was only the timely interference of Heimdall that drew them off, though they lurked nearby.

“Thank you, Jor...Heimdall. The eternal sisters are not happy with the arrangement they agreed to so many years ago. I will confess I pushed the deal to my favor, but they agreed to it all the same.” Caligari had to crane her neck to look at the God while she spoke.