Page 13 of Reaper's Ruin
I looked at her chest, at the curves of her breasts rising and falling with each unnecessary breath.
“It’s instinct,” I said quietly. “Most souls still breathe—reapers too. But if you stop, nothing happens.”
She froze. The motion stilled. Her chest no longer moved. Her eyes locked on mine, wide with realization. Slowly, she raised a trembling hand to her heart.
And as she felt no rhythm beneath her palm—no beat, no pulse—I saw the truth settle in.
Acceptance.
And horror.
Both blooming like bruises across her beautiful, broken expression.
Tears broke loose again as her breathing resumed in sobs, burying her face in her hands. I watched her, shocked and confused as she cried. Souls always knew they were dead when I reached them. Why did this one seem so stunned by her situation?
“I seriously got murdered in my own house? I... I can’t believe I’m dead.” She looked up, surveying the bustling world moving around us, unaware of our existence. Her soul in Faelora, and me, the Reaper just behind the veil.
“Yes. You are definitely dead. That still doesn’t answer how you are here.” Her mention of being murdered certainly fit with why her soul hadn’t moved on. Anger over their death was one of themain reasons souls refused to let go. But it still didn’t explain how she could see me, how her soul could jump around the way it did, or how a human, the first in centuries, was in Faelora.
“Wherever the hell ‘here’ is.” Then her eyes started to light with hope I hadn’t seen or felt in centuries. “Wait! Is this Heaven? Is that what this place is? Are you like some dark angel to introduce me to it? Because it’s nothing like I expected. Angels are supposed to be like, white and with wings or something. And I thought there was like a glowing gate to welcome me. But I didn’t see a gate, and you don’t look like an angel. Are you an angel? Is this Heaven?”
“No. You’re in Faelora,” I answered, confused by her question. “I don’t know this Heaven that you speak of.”
That hope flooded out of her eyes with fresh tears. “There’s no Heaven? What? No. There has to be. There has to be a Heaven!”
“I don’t know what that is,” I admitted. “When souls die, they’re given time to find peace. Once they do, a door appears—their passage to whatever lies beyond. I guess that could be this Heaven you speak of?”
Her eyes widened in horror. “Wait. So, I was supposed to get a door to Heaven? And I didn’t? What? Why? Why not? Where’s my door?” Her voice rose with each question, panic replacing her earlier fear. “But I was good! I did everything right! I didn’t do drugs, I never lied—well, except white lies. You know, like about my cousin’s terrible haircut when I told her it looked good. But that was to spare her feelings!”
I stared at her, completely baffled by this sudden outburst.
“I went to church... I mean, not every week, but sometimes. Enough, I think, right? I volunteered at the animal shelter. I was in nursing school, for God’s sake! My life was about helping people!” She was talking faster now, her hands gesturing wildly. “I mean, there was that one time when I was twelve that I stole that lip gloss,but it was on a dare. That doesn’t count, right? Is that why I’m not getting a door to Heaven? Because of the lip gloss?”
Despite everything—despite eight centuries of coldness, despite my duty, despite the gravity of our situation—I felt something unfamiliar tug at the corner of my mouth.
A... smile?
“I’m not saying you won’t go to whatever this ‘Heaven’ is,” I said, trying to calm her spiral. “I’m only saying that in Faelora, it’s not called that. Souls here pass through doors to what most call Solarium,the realm of light, or they get pulled below to Tenebris, the realm of darkness. But there are many beliefs within the courts, and others have different names and visions for what comes next. Some believe in rebirth. Others in a great cosmic garden, or becoming a star in an eternal starfield. But most of them—no matter what they call it—describe the same two endings: one of peace and light, the other of darkness and suffering. The names change, but the shape of the story stays the same. I’m assuming your Heaven is what many here would call Solarium or Elaris.”
My words seemed to calm her. “Okay, that actually sounds like what we have where I’m from too. A bunch of different religions—some totally different—but a lot kind of believe the same core idea. Good place, bad place.” Her eyes widened. “Wait... so I’m not in the bad place, right?”
I shook my head.
“No. If you were going to the ‘bad place,’ a rip would have appeared beneath you the moment your soul left your body. You would’ve been pulled down by the flames immediately.”
She let out a slow breath. “Okay. Well, that’s something at least. But I should have gotten a door to the good place then? Why didn’t I?”
I shook my head slowly. “I don’t know. Usually it’s a soul who refuses to give up their connection to the living. Unfinished business. But they can’t linger here in Faelora. It’s unnatural.”
She stopped mid-ramble, blinking at me. “Wait—Faelora? That’s where I am now?”
“Yes. This is Faelora, the realm of the fae.”
“Fae? Like... fairies?” Her eyes grew impossibly wider. “With wings and pixie dust?”
I frowned. “Wings and pixie dust? No. Nothing like that.”
“Where I’m from, we have stories about fairies,” she said, as if that explained anything. “They can do magic and fly and have pointy ears.”
