Chapter 1
Beyond the Gate
"You'll die with me, Doctor!" said a fuming Rassilon, his gauntlet glowing.
"I know," replied the Doctor, accepting his fate. He knew he would die that day. It was pointless to resist. It was impossible to resist.
In all of Gallifreyan history, no figure was more feared than the first Time Lord Rassilon, whose fury was mightier than supernovae. But there was one man in that room who was not afraid and whose anger rivalled that of the billion-year-old Lord President.
"Get out of the way," instructed the Master.
The Doctor turned around, surprised. The Master's eyes were fixed on Rassilon, his hands rubbing together. He was ready to unleash his wrath. And the moment the Doctor stepped aside, he shot a powerful burst of artron energy at the old man who was responsible for his insanity.
"You did this to me!" he roared. "All of my life!"
Another burst of artron energy. He was burning up his own life force, but he did not care. This man, this selfish creature, had ruined his whole life. He could remember the day he had gone mad. He had been eight years old and staring into the Untempered Schism. He had heard it then for the first time: the drumbeat, the never-ending drumbeat that haunted him for more than a thousand years. He would make the old man pay. He would kill Rassilon even if it meant sacrificing his own life.
"You made me!" he shouted. His body was dying. He wondered if it would still be there, the drumbeat, if he would still hear it when his body died, because at that moment, it was louder than ever before.
"One," he counted the beat, shooting yet another burst of artron energy, "two", and another, "three," and yet another. Rassilon was on his knees, clinging desperately to his staff.
"Four!" screamed the Master, focusing all his power on the Lord President, his life force draining away rapidly. He would have his revenge. He would have closure. Perhaps then, he could have peace.
There was a blinding flash of white light. The Master's eyes squeezed shut in pain. When he opened them, Rassilon was not there anymore, nor the other Time Lords. Not even the Doctor. In fact, nothing was there. It was all an empty whiteness. And then he saw it: a blurry shadow approaching from afar.
"This is a momentous event," announced the voice of the shadow. "I get to meet the Champion of Death just before he dies."
"Why have you brought me here?" asked the Master, annoyed. "Where-?"
"We don't have much time," the shadow cut him off. "You are about to die, but I can save you."
"I don't need saving," the Master growled bitterly. "My life, everything I've done, it was all because of the noise in my head. I'm tired. I want it to stop."
The shadow was closer now. The Master could see it was someone in a black hooded cloak. He could not help bursting out laughing. The artron energy surged again and he could feel his life force dissipating.
"Is this a joke?" he croaked. "Who do you think you are? The Grim Reaper?"
"You don't know me yet," said the figure, now raising its hood to reveal a sharp-toothed mouth on an otherwise-featureless face, "but I know you, Master, and allowing yourself to die is the one thing you could never do."
It extended a gloved hand. "I can save you," it repeated. "All you have to do is give me your agreement. Do I have your agreement?"