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Black were the tired city street in the depths of night. Silence hovered over every shoulder of every person caught out in the dark like a smiling ghost. No cars dared roar through the tense air, no footsteps dared echo. Sorry, scared humans huddled in doorways, praying a brave soul to open their door to them and catch them out of the black net. Like a knife through a heart, a shriek resonated from the necropolis. The air grew rigid, fear flooded the stones like ocean waves.

Over the tombstones, leaping over the high graves, Seth yipped in a strange joy he had never before experienced. His voice held a carrying strength it had never possessed in his living days. Great leaps did not strain his legs and lungs. With a euphoric cry, he raised his arms to the sky, and the blackness grew weighted until from it fell beads of water. They drummed faster and faster against the stone and marble memories of the true dead. The ground was soon saturated from their thunderous fall. Still Seth ran on, rainwater drenching his black hair and dark olive skin. His hazel eyes had never seen the world to beautifully, bathed in soaking shadows. With each footfall as he ran, a curtain of muddy water flew, but he could only grin with an undying happiness. He practically flew over the imposing iron gates, charging at a full sprint down the stone road. To each side, the statues of great demons perched, leering down at those who passed to the necropolis to stay, and those who returned in tears. To Seth, they were a mock of death's demons; at his speed, he was stunned to be able to see each tiny, seething waterfall cascading from the idols curving, carved detail, and see each for its beauty.

The rain sang a high, ringing song in the metropolis. It caught against metal and ceramic shingles with gentle tapping and slithered down to join to powerful bass on the ground. Through the downpours many voices, Seth let his laugh be heard once more, running and leaping to cling to the sides of buildings, drawing the eyes of terrified civilians. "Let the living tremble!" he cried to himself, pouncing to highest tower. With arms spread wide, Seth let the sky's sorry tears soak through him, cleanse him of all his old hurts. How could he cling to his living pain when his new form of life, alien to him as it was, was giving him the second chance next to none receive. And they gave him hope...a chance. If he was here, granted the power of the death gods and risen from the dead, then it meant that Malachia lived on.