Selene stopped walking so abruptly that Riven, busy gawking at the architecture, almost ran into her.
"Pants," she said, her voice flat, "are a mortal affectation. We are soul-forms. We do not require... pants."
"I respectfully disagree," Riven muttered. "I feel a distinct lack of pants, and it's weirding me out."
Selene ignored him and gestured to a set of massive, obsidian doors. They were carved not with heroic scenes, but with endless, repeating sigils that seemed to shift and writhe in his peripheral vision. There was no handle.
"This is the Nursery," she announced.
Riven stared. "This is a door. A very big, very 'you-shall-not-pass' door. You sure this isn't the final boss room?"
"It is where you will be contained."
Contained. Not 'live.' Not 'trained.' Contained. She really is a ray of sunshine.
Selene placed her small, pale hand on the door. The sigils flared with a cold white light, and with a sound like a glacier cracking, the doors slid open.
Riven was expecting a "Reaper Academy". Maybe some classrooms, a training yard, a few emo-looking rival apprentices to glower at.
The "Nursery" was... an archive.
It was a cavernous, circular room, impossibly vast. The walls were lined from floor to ceiling with endless shelves, but they weren't filled with books. They were filled with small, glowing crystals, each one pulsing with a faint, colored light. A cold, sterile silence filled the air, broken only by the whisper-faint sound of a million souls at rest.
In the very center of the room, a single, massive crystal pulsed with a soft, white light, casting long shadows.
"Wow," Riven breathed, his sarcastic voice failing him for a second. "So this is where you live?"
"This is the Hall of Archives," Selene said, walking forward. "The Nursery is below."
"Below? Below what?"
Selene led him to the center of the room, past the great crystal, to a simple, unadorned hole in the floor. It was a perfect circle of blackness, like a well full of ink.
"You've got to be kidding me," Riven said, peering over the edge. "First the void-cradle, now the murder-hole? What is it with you people and ominous pits?"
"It is the only way down." Selene stepped calmly off the edge and vanished into the darkness.
Riven groaned. "No instructions again! Of course! Why would there be instructions!?"
He took a deep breath, pinched his nose, and jumped.
He didn't fall. He drifted, sinking through the blackness as if it were thick, cold water. The descent lasted only a few seconds before his bare feet touched a cold, smooth floor.
The room he landed in was... small. And gray.
It contained a single stone slab (a bed?), a small desk carved from the same gray stone, and an empty shelf. That was it.
Selene was standing by the desk, arms crossed.
"This is your quarter," she said.
Riven looked around. "This isn't a quarter. This is a five-star prison cell. Where's the mini-bar? The window? The... anything?"
"We do not sleep. We do not eat. We do not 'decorate,'" Selene said, as if reciting a sacred text. "We exist to serve the Master. All you require is here."
She pointed to the desk. On it sat a single item: a small, black-bound book and a quill.
"Your first lesson," she said.
Riven's eyes lit up. "Oh! Finally! Is this a grimoire? Am I learning 'Soul Slash' or 'Spectral Chains'?"
"No," Selene said. She tapped the book. "You are learning the Codex Mortis. The 7,428 rules of the Nether Realm. You will memorize the first five hundred by the time I return."
Riven's jaw dropped. "Five hundred? By when? What am I, a supernatural paralegal? I thought I was Death's right hand, Bearer of the Eye!"
"The Eye of Oblivion is a weapon of cosmic-level imbalance," Selene stated, her voice sharp. "The Master will not allow you to wield it until you understand the laws you might break. A stray dog does not get a new bone until it learns not to bite its owner."
"I'm not a dog!"
"You are his," she retorted, jabbing a finger toward the ceiling. "And now, you are mine to manage. Do not leave this room until you are finished. The Nursery does not permit… loitering."
She walked toward the 'door'...which Riven realized was just a patch of wall that looked slightly darker than the rest.
"Wait!" Riven called out.
She paused, but didn't turn.
"...what about my pants?"
"On the slab," she said.
Riven looked. A small, neatly folded pile of black fabric lay on the stone bed. It was a simple, sleeveless black robe, like a tunic, and... a pair of loose black pants.
He blinked, surprised.
"The Master," Selene said, her voice quiet, "finds your mortal... whining... distracting. He said you'd be too focused on your 'lack of pants' to study."
She glanced over her shoulder, her sapphire eyes unreadable.
"Consider it your one and only luxury, Aberration. Learn the rules."
The dark patch of wall rippled, and she was gone.
Riven was alone.
He looked at the pants. He looked at the 7,000-rule death-book.
He sighed, picking up the robe. It was soft, at least.
"Okay, Riven," he said to himself, pulling the tunic over his head. "New life. New job. Lots of reading. It's just like college, only I'm dead, my roommate is a bitter six-year-old, and my boss is a skeleton. I can do this."
He sat at the desk and opened the book.
Rule #1: The Master is absolute.
Rule #2: The balance of life and death must be maintained.
Rule #3: No soul shall be reaped before its appointed time, save by the Master's direct decree.
He read for another minute, then his eyes glazed over.
"...This is going to be hell."
Riven sighed, pulled the newly acquired pants on they fit surprisingly well and slumped back at the stone desk.
Okay. Rule #4: The harvesting of a 'rogue' soul (a spirit defying its designated cycle) is permitted, but must be filed in triplicate using Form 3B-Delta.
Rule #5: Form 3B-Delta is only to be used if the soul is non-violent. Violent rogue souls require Form 7-Alpha.
Rule #6: The definition of 'violent' is at the discretion of the attending Reaper, but will be reviewed by the Bureau of Souls.
"Triplicate forms..." Riven groaned, dropping his head onto the book. "I died and went to the afterlife DMV. This is my personal, eternal hell."
He forced himself to read on.
Rule #27: The Nursery is a place of study. Interaction between apprentices is limited to sanctioned training exercises. Unauthorized fraternization is forbidden.
Rule #58: The Hall of Archives is sacred. No soul crystal may be touched, read, or accessed without clearance from the Keeper of the Archives.
Rule #114: Use of one's Unique Authority (e.g., The Eye of Oblivion) within the Nursery grounds is strictly prohibited, punishable by containment.
Riven's head snapped up. "Rule 114? So I can't even use the one cool thing I got? They just want me to sit in a box and read?"
He glanced at the faint, eye-shaped mark on his forehead in the polished reflection of the black stone desk. He tried to "activate" it, just like he had in the Cradle. He focused, he squinted, he even gritted his teeth.
Nothing. The mark just sat there, dormant.
"Useless," he muttered.
He slumped back, his eyes scanning the endless, mind-numbing text.
Rule #231: Reapers must not manifest a scythe or soul-weapon unless facing a Class-4 entity or higher. All other reaping must be done via 'Soul Call.'
Rule #309: 'Soul Call' may only be learned after passing the Codex Mortis proficiency exam.
Rule #412: Any Reaper found consuming soul fragments for personal power will be erased. (Addendum 412-B: This does not apply to the Master).
"Of course it doesn't," Riven grumbled, his eyelids feeling heavy, even though he wasn't tired. It was a boredom so profound it was physical.
He had no idea how much time had passed. There was no sun. No clock. Just the gray, silent room and the endless, whispering quiet of the Archives above. It could have been hours. It could have been days.
He'd made it to Rule #124, and his brain felt like it was leaking out of his ears. He'd re-read the page on "Nether Realm Zoning Ordinances" four times and still had no idea what it meant.
He was tracing the sigil on the cover of the book with his finger when the wall rippled.
Selene stepped through, her expression as flat and gray as the room.
"Time's up, Aberration."
Riven jolted, scrambling upright. "Time's up? Already? I- I'm not... how long has it been?"
"Long enough," she said. She walked to his desk and looked at the open book. "Rule 124. You are... slow."
"Slow!?" Riven sputtered, indignant. "This stuff is impossible! It's contradictory, it's boring, and there's seven thousand of them! You said 500, I've barely read a quarter of that!"
"You were given a task. You failed."
"I didn't fail! I just... need more time. And maybe a coffee. Or some kind of high-stakes monster to fight. Anything but this."
Selene's icy eyes stared into his.
"The Master's realm is built on these laws. They are the only things that separate the Nether from the chaos of the void. You, with your Eye, are the single greatest threat to that order. If you cannot learn the rules, you cannot be trusted. And if you cannot be trusted..."
She let the threat hang in the air.
"Recite Rule #58," she commanded.
Riven's mind went blank. "Rule 58... uh... 'Don't run in the halls'?"
"Rule #58: The Hall of Archives is sacred. No soul crystal may be touched, read, or accessed without clearance from the Keeper of the Archives," she recited perfectly.
"You failed."
"I didn't fail! I-"
"Rule #114."
"That one! I know that one!" Riven said, pointing. "No using the cool eye-power in the Nursery, or I get put in... uh... more containment?"
Selene's expression soured. "Close enough. You are a chaotic, unruly soul, Riven. You have no discipline. No respect. You are just like Yato Hoshino."
Riven froze.
His new name felt comfortable, but the old one... hearing it from her ... it hit a nerve.
"What do you know about Yato Hoshino?" he asked, his voice low.
"I know everything," she said, her voice dropping to a cold whisper. "As Keeper of the Archives, I read the soul-record of every candidate Mortis brings."
She tilted her head. "Yato Hoshino. Age twenty-two. Lazy. No ambition. Wasted potential. Died saving a cat that didn't even like him. A life of mediocrity."
Riven clenched his fists. "Shut up."
"You failed your first life," Selene said, her voice devoid of malice, stating it like a simple fact. "And you have just failed your first lesson. The Master is... mistaken about you."
She turned to leave.
"You're wrong," Riven said, his voice shaking.
She paused at the wall-door.
"I'm not him anymore," Riven said, looking down at his small hands. "And I'm not going to fail. I refuse to be useless again."
Selene was silent for a long moment.
"...Then learn the rules, stray," she said, without looking back. "You have until I return. Do not fail again."
The wall rippled, and she was gone.
Riven stared at the empty spot where she'd been, his heart pounding with a strange, cold anger. He looked back at the Codex Mortis.
He sat down, grabbed the book, and turned back to Rule #125.
"Okay, Selene," he whispered, his crimson eyes gleaming in the dim light. "Challenge accepted."