From Corpse to Crown: Reborn as a Mortician in Another World-Chapter 98: Where Stillness Breaks

She stood in front of a crossroads. The spiral’s edge was at her feet, and the child-spirit left. Rosa’s departure left her chest feeling tight, like a thread pulled taut. Her fingers still burned from the rejected offering.

"Your path diverges here."

That bothered her. "Why does it have to end here? I’ve been following Lucian for awhile now. Surely..." Alice’s voice wobbled, and she felt tears in her eyes. "...he still needs me? I can be his Guide..."

She glanced around and didn’t see him anywhere. He didn’t look for her, and the fifth spiral’s chamber was unnaturally wide.

"Oath-Tender?" Alice felt small and unsteady. Had the paladin always been there? She did say that she would take them through the fifth spiral.

But where was she now? Is this what the diverged path means? Someone separated me from them?

Will they look for me?

She didn’t even see the faint thread of Lucian’s presence anymore. The Loom had gone with him, and her fingertips only had the golden storm.

"He always had the tools to save other people," she said aloud. The Grimoire. The Loom. The Spinnermaid blessed him, and she had only recently learned how to make glyphs.

Perhaps not all is lost. I can still draw glyphs, even in this place.

She looked around and saw herself inside an art supply shop.

The door was open.

It was a little too convenient, but she walked in anyway.

She saw her first Vel Quen resident, half-frozen near the counter. He was blinking but his hands were stuck on the glass countertop. Alice didn’t have any money, but the way his eyes widened when he saw her enter made her feel scared.

"Hi," she said, hoping she didn’t have any loose threads anywhere. "I’m just going to get some charcoal, okay?"

He blinked once, and she took that as a yes. The shopkeeper’s mouth was still frozen but his eyes were kind.

So Alice grabbed the charcoal and opened her sketchbook.

The city creaked louder and she saw first-hand how the city was slowly waking up. The frozen man could move his nose now.

Part of her ached to chase after Rosa, to understand what kind of guide she truly was. But the other part wanted to bear witness to Lucian’s actions.

So she stayed and drew a ’flare’ glyph that would alert Lucian to her location.

They were apart for now. And she had to admit, exploring without following someone was scary, but also freeing. Alice could defend herself now, a little bit.

Even as the city creaked louder.

She looked at the golden threadlight around her fingertips, giving off a bit more light. Currently, the streets and the shop were lit with the same lamps--a candle burning bright blue.

"Move down and make a bracelet..."

It took a bit of effort, but she managed to create a golden thread-bracelet. The tiny points of light were brighter now, and that made her happy. One light was a bright red, and she guessed that was Lucian.

Using her charcoal, she practiced on her sketchbook before drawing an enormous fire glyph and an air glyph beneath it.

It’ll be okay Lucian. We’ll see each other soon. I’ll get you to look in the sky for me.

+

Lucian walked into the basin chamber alone.

Auren didn’t look up. The Threadbound Warden knelt in silence, his hands soaked in light, his face half-cracked like unfired porcelain.

"You rang the bell twice."

Auren’s voice was quiet. "I didn’t. He did."

Lucian stepped closer. "Brother Andrew?"

At the name, something in Auren flinched.

"He told me the bell wasn’t meant to keep the dead in place. It was to give sorrow a voice."

"And I gave the city silence. Was that so wrong?" Auren asked, still not meeting Lucian’s eyes. "Vel Quen was dying. And the Spymaster—he didn’t give us an answer. He gave us a task. He gave us me."

Lucian felt the weight of the words settle. "Did you want it?"

"No." Auren stood slowly. His shadow loomed taller than the bookshelves outside. "But someone had to take it."

Lucian reached into the Grimoire, letting the red threads flicker toward Auren’s trembling hands. "You were a child."

"So were you," Auren murmured, looking up for the first time. "And yet here you are."

Before Lucian could respond, the chamber trembled.

From above, a great cracking sound rippled through the library.

The floor behind them split.

And the Oath-Tender was flung backwards, her armor cracking against a pillar of threadglass.

+

Elsewhere, the Spymaster stood at a small shrine lined with silver pins. He watched as several threads began to tremble and unwind.

He murmured, "Abigail’s wish was never for peace. It was for permanence."

He remembered that day quite well. She’d told him sternly, "I don’t want things in my queendom to change. Everything is perfect, just the way it is."

A big smile had formed on his face that day, even as he tried to keep his composure.

Certainly an interesting way to grant that wish, hmm, Abigail? Just freeze your entire town and have someone anchor themselves in the core, like a massive chrysalis.

"Unfortunately...it looks like Lucian inspired the cocoon to unveil its butterfly."

He turned to a locked drawer in his satchel and pulled out a charm etched with names he had once erased.

One name began glowing.

Cadrel.

"So you remember, then," he said.

"Let’s see what you do with it."

Behind him, faint threads wove across a wall-length tapestry—each depicting a different possible future of Vel Quen. Most were blackened out.

He reached into the second drawer—and placed a needle against his own temple.

With a hiss of pain, he whispered, "For my amusement. Vel Quen will stay still. Let’s see how strong your will is, Lucian Bowcott."

+

The young Watcher reached the top of the spiral.

She found the broken ceiling above her open to the same endless sky Lucian had seen.

Books hovered mid-air. Threads stretched in wrong directions. The stillness was fracturing.

She passed silently through a corridor where ancient rites flickered on loop. She paused only once—to touch a suspended funeral cloth, one that had never been laid to rest.

And there—in the shattered center—she saw Auren. And Lucian. And a woman cloaked in grief and gold. 𝒻𝓇𝑒𝘦𝘸𝑒𝒷𝓃ℴ𝑣𝘦𝑙.𝒸ℴ𝘮

Alice.

She lifted her lantern.

The third bell began to toll.

Light exploded within the lantern.

She stepped forward, no longer a watcher.

A witness.

A keeper.

+

At the toll’s first echo, a great crack ran through the ritual floor.

From the fractured earth rose a shape in threadlight and mourning moss.

Queen Abigail.

No longer a memory or a myth.

She walked into the room like it was hers--and, as Queen, it always had.

Lucian turned toward her, and the Loom recoiled.

The Grimoire snapped shut.

Abigail’s voice was low and iron-bound. "My permanence has been broken. Choose what you carry forward."

She looked directly at Auren.

"I wanted a city sealed from pain. You made it a tomb."

Auren’s antlers lowered in shame. "I tried to honor your wish."

"And I tried to die quietly," she said. "But neither of us succeeded."

Behind her, a door made of woven threads opened—and dozens of eyes peered through.

Some were waking.

Some were waiting.

But all were watching.