Chapter 14: Conversations

“Death is so terribly final, while life is full of possibilities.”

— Tyrion Lannister, in George R. R. Martin, A Game of Thrones (A Song of Ice and Fire, Book One). First published by Bantam Spectra, New York, on August 6, 1996. Copyright © 1996 by George R. R. Martin. All rights reserved.

While others were hustling and bustling, Adam drifted in and out of consciousness, but it was more than this, for in his injured state, Adam was learning that that the veil between life and death was far thinner than he could have possibly imagined.

There was no pain or sound or weight where he was. It was like being surrounded by water but without the liquid making him wet. He was falling, floating, and standing all at the same time, and he could not have explained how that was possible to anyone else. This was simply a sensation someone has to feel to understand.

He tried to remember where he had been only a moment before. The drawbridge. Skeletor. The explosion.

Lyn.

Then even those memories slipped through his fingers like smoke from a fire.

A heavy footstep echoed through the void.

Another followed.

The mist slowly parted.

A towering figure emerged from the whiteness.

He stood a full head taller than even He-Man, broad-shouldered and powerfully built. Ebony skin covered a frame that seemed carved from living stone. A crimson cape hung behind him beneath a mantle of thick white fur, while polished silver harness straps crossed over his bare chest to a brilliant golden medallion emblazoned with the ancient crest of Grayskull. Gold bracers circled his wrists, and a broad golden belt rested above a furred warrior’s kilt.

His long black hair fell past his shoulders, several braids bound with crimson bands framing a strong, weathered face.

Amber eyes regarded Adam with kindness ... and immeasurable age.

The warrior smiled.

“So,” he said, his deep voice carrying effortlessly through the empty expanse, “it appears as though you finally made it, Adam.”

Adam blinked.

“Who ... Who are you?”

“I should think you knew me,” the nobleman said. “You call out the castle that bears my name.”

“ ... King Grayskull?”

“The very same,” the ancient king said with a laugh. “I had hoped our first meeting would come much later as for many it is quite final.”

Adam looked down at himself before glancing back toward the endless fog.

“ ... Am I dead?”

Grayskull’s smile softened.

“No and yes,” he said kindly. He stepped closer to Adam. “Right now, you are standing at the threshold where the living and the dead briefly meet. Many come here when they very nearly die, but they often do not get to keep the experience with them. After all, the human mind can only hold so much in it. Death is rather immense, as you can imagine.”

His expression slowly morphed from lighthearted to something much more solemn.

“And before you decide which direction you’re going...”

The ancient king placed one enormous hand upon Adam’s shoulder.

“ ... you and I need to have a long talk.”

Threads of of black and purple magic spread across the walls of Castle Grayskull.

Evil-Lyn stood upon one of the upper platforms overlooking the shattered drawbridge, which Sorceress was quickly returning to being a dilapidated ground rather than an nonexistent one.

Her staff remained planted before her as ribbons of violet light climbed the ancient stonework before disappearing into the sky. Slowly, methodically, she wove another protective barrier over the fortress.