The Nekropolis Archives by Tim Waggoner

Sprawl, or a decorative effect of some sort achieved through Lord Galm's dark arts. I almost believed it, too.
      And then Devona and I were past the ballroom and continuing down the corridor.
      "I don't think anyone noticed us," Devona said, relieved.
      "I hope you're right."
      After a few dozen more feet we came to a winding stone staircase. Devona removed a torch from a sconce on the wall and started up the stairs. I held back a little. Maybe the torch wasn't lit with real fire, but zombie-flesh is dry, bloodless, and very flammable. I wasn't about to take any chances.
      Devona led the way up: two, four, seven floors. I don't tire as I did when alive, but just to break the silence, I said, "I wonder if Lord Galm has ever considered installing an elevator."
      "Most Bloodborn don't need to rely on stairs," she answered. "They have their travel forms. Besides, Father won't have anything to do with technology. He thinks it a decadence which promotes laziness of the mind and spirit."
       I wondered what Galm thought of those Bloodborn who'd arrived in limousines that night. I thought of asking Devona, but I decided to stick to business instead. "I didn't notice Lord Galm in the ballroom."
      "He's probably still meditating, marshaling his power for the Renewal Ceremony."
      I thought I might take the opportunity to find out more about the ceremony – it struck me as awfully coincidental that one of Lord Galm's most powerful mystic objects should just happen to vanish so close to the Renewal Ceremony. But then we reached the ninth floor and Devona gestured that we should stop.
      Devona stuck her head into the corridor, looked both ways, and then motioned for me to follow. I did, but to the right I saw a window, and I couldn't resist stepping over to it and taking a quick peek outside.
      The window was covered with thick iron bars, but that wasn't the only protection. I could hear, or rather almost hear, a hum in the air, like the ultrasonic whine of an alarm system.
      "Don't stand too close," Devona said. "The wardspell on the window is a particularly deadly one."
      "Thanks for the tip."
      The borders of Nekropolis form a perfect pentagram, and the points of the pentagram – connected by the flaming barrier of Phlegethon – are the strongholds of the five Darklords. This window faced outward from Nekropolis and toward the Null Plains: a flat black featureless expanse which stretched to the horizon. A whole hell of a lot of Nothing.
      I'd only seen the Null Plains a couple times before, but viewing them always gave me the creeps. There was something about the blackness that the human (or zombie) eye couldn't quite deal with, a subtle movement, nearly undetectable, like glacially slow tides of solid darkness sliding and swirling against one another.
      I thought of crazy Carl and the headline of his idiotic "newspaper" – WATCHERS FROM OUTSIDE PLOT CITY'S DESTRUCTION – and I couldn't help shuddering. Looking out at the endless darkness, I could almost believe something was out there, watching, waiting…
      "Not much to see," Devona said.
      "Not much," I agreed, turning away from the window. There was nothing out there, certainly not any Watchers. Carl was a loon, and that was the end of it.
      We continued down the corridor past a series of solid-looking wooden doors, each of which appeared to be exactly like the one before it, until we came to a door which didn't seem particularly special, but evidently was, for Devona stopped.
      "This is it. The entrance to the Collection." She unzipped her leather jacket halfway to her waist to reveal an iron key hanging on a chain between her partially exposed breasts.
      As she detached the key from the chain, I asked, "Is this the only key to the chamber?"
      She nodded. "Not even Lord Galm has one. But then, he doesn't need a key. The door is spelled to open at his touch." She moved to insert the key in the lock – not having