Thomas staggered down the last steps of the Bone Stair and collapsed.“Get up,” He told himself. “Get up. Get up. GET UP.” There was little urgency to the words; they were merely a command given to an exhausted body. Groaning deeply, Thomas dug his fingers into a crack and pulled himself up, the act leaving deep lacerations in already scarred flesh. He sat there panting for a long second, and then lifted his head to gaze along the beach of cracked stone. It ran infinitely to his left and right, a vista interrupted only by the wide, sweeping bottoms of the countless Bone Stairs. They all looked the same: high, white steps of ageless bone framed by an inky balustrade that climbed up the sheer mountain face and vanished in the stagnant mists. Thomas looked forward, staring past the beach to where an ocean of black sand lay: one of the last great obstacles between him and Death’s backdoor.
Loose gravel scraped to his left and a skel