Palace of the Dead: The Tattered Soul Returns

Random sketch I wrote - styled like an intro to a movie or series of books. He lived. He died. He escaped the unescapeable, breaking out of the Palace of the Dead and rejoining the living world. Now, with the threat of the Dead looming ever closer, he must return to the Palace - life's one Ambassador - and discover the reason for the restless dead.


Listen to the whispers that crawl around your ears

Listen to the voices that give life to your fears

Heed not the warnings spoken long ago...

Walk down fate's path where the living dare not go.


Once, I was as they are. They see it, curled around me like a cloak, swirling through my soul in a black, sinister mist. Their chilling eyes see what was my past but has become my eternal, unbreakable future, and they yearn for it... for me. They call me with their soundless voices as only they can, and they can feel the will to respond stirring in my soul. Yes, they know well what the sight of my tattered soul means - for me, and for them. The Dead always know.

There was a time when I was dead.

I walked the ancient castle corridors. I saw the foundations of the ageless fortress that holds the dead. My spirit's footprints once covered the broken stairways and crumbling rooftops. Searching, searching... always searching for a way out of the Palace of the Dead but never once finding one. Behind every door, I found only more corridors, more rooms, more winding passageways. From atop every rooftop, I could see only more peaks and spires, more of that endless castle.

To be truly trapped in death... the living dread it and the dead despise it. It is the ultimate horror.

And now I must cross over into that ultimate horror once more, for if I do not, there will be no escape for any of us...