And Death was where they led me first. Or rather, Hel, Death’s Kingdom. Not a realm I frequented much, in spite of having fathered its ruler, and not the kind of place in which I felt my unique skills would best be utilized. But that was where the ravens led, and that was where I picked up their trail – through Ironwood, and then underground, travelling on foot through World Below for much of the way, not being privy to their trick of simply crossing directly through Worlds – until, days later, I arrived onto the dusty plain of Hel.

Not my favourite place in the Worlds. Hel’s own kingdom is cold and bleak. Unbound by the conventional rules of size, or scale, or geography, it stretches out in all directions; a colourless desert of sand and bone under an arch of colourless sky. Nothing grows here; nothing lives – even Hel was a half-corpse – and those who come here are either dead, doomed or simply desperate. I told myself that my daughter would surely agree to see me – but it was her kingdom. If she chose, she could have me wait at her pleasure for weeks or months; or until the desert swallowed me and I became one of the dead, dust on a wind that blew ceaselessly under that strange, subterranean sky.

I found my daughter waiting, drawing circles in the sand. She’d grown since I last saw her, though, sadly, she hadn’t improved much. She’d always been moody and intractable, even when she was a child, and now she looked at me askance through her single living eye (the other one was dead as bone under a wisp of white hair).

‘Why, it’s dear old Dad,’ she said. ‘Fancy seeing you here.’

I sat down next to her on a rock. Around me, the hot dry wind of Hel stirred the souls of the departed into a kind of half-sentience. I could feel them drawn to me, sensing the warmth of a living being. Not a pleasant feeling. I made a mental note to myself to try to avoid Death as long as I could.

‘I thought I’d say hello,’ I said. ‘How’s the job shaping up?’

Hel raised a single eyebrow.

‘Well?’

‘Well – Dad. You’ve seen this place. What do you think?’

‘It’s . . . interesting.’

She made a sound of contempt. ‘You think? Sitting here, day in, day out, surrounded by nothing but the dead? Not what you’d call exciting.’

‘Well, it’s a job,’ I told her. ‘It isn’t meant to be exciting. Not at the start, anyway.’

‘You mean you think it’s going to improve?’

I shrugged.

‘I didn’t think so,’ she said. ‘So what do you want?’

‘I’m hurt,’ I said. ‘What makes you think I want anything, other than to pay a visit to my daughter?’