Page 6 of Reaper's Ruin
“Can’t wait to hear about this when you get back. Come find me in the Hollow later. It’s game night with Lorien and Skorn.”
“I don’t do game night.”
“Oh, come on, Death. Lorien’s been pestering me to get you to join us for years. Kind of a fanboy, honestly. Respects the hell out of you, even if you never give him the time of day. It’ll be fun. You’ve got to be as bored as the rest of us. Skorn’s so sick of the Shadowveil he’s been begging someone to reap him just to end it. That hulking Frost Fae brute would rather cease to exist than spend one more day in this place.” He let out a little sigh. “Wouldn’t be the first, of course. Plenty of Reapers crack after a few decades of this endless grey existence. Do something reckless just to get the Veil Lords to end it for them.”
He dropped his voice a little. “Skorn’s forgotten there is an end to this. That eventually he’ll get a door and get the fuck out of here. But it’s been a hundred years. Maybe more. He’s losing hope.”
“So reap him,” I said flatly.
Taelon recoiled slightly at my harsh words, then rolled his eyes. “You know I can’t do that. If any reaper reaps another, it’s straight into oblivion for them too. And I don’t know when my door is coming, but I have to believe it is. I’m not getting myself wiped from existence for nothing.”
He looked off, more serious than usual. “Skorn’s door has to be close. Almost all reapers are gone by a hundred years. I just don’t want to see the old grump give up the day before it happens.”
With a lengthy sigh, Taelon shook his head. “I wish we knew when our time would be up. This whole ‘it just happens when it happens’ thing is straight Cindhorn shit. Shouldn’t we get, like, a tally of souls to reap? Or maybe someone hands us a sentence when we arrive? ‘You. Only killed a few people. Ten years. You—oof, you were very murdery. Eighty years for you.’ But no. It’s just reap until a door appears, and with any luck, it won’t take a century—unless you were a real shit.”
His eyebrows lifted slowly, a smirk tugging at his mouth. “And you... I can only imagine whatyoudid to earn eight hundred years and counting. What the hell, man? Why didn’t the ground just open up and drag you into the fires below if you were that bad?”
I didn’t answer.
Taelon, familiar with my predisposition for silence, just kept going. “I just wish I knew what the magic answer was that makes a door pop up. I’d happily reap away if I knew when the end was coming.”
“It doesn’t work that way,” I said, though deep down, I wondered the same. Whatdidmake a door appear? What was the threshold? Some people said when we were sentenced to the Shadowveil it was a number of years, others said it was a numbers of souls. Others still speculated it was until we forgave ourselves for the sins of our mortal lives. I’d had eight hundred years to try to find an answer to why doors appeared suddenly for Reapers, and still... I didn’t know.
And my door? Mine wasn’t coming. I was certain of that.
I just didn’t know why.
Not that I cared. The more time I spent here, the more fae souls I got to eradicate from existence. Not a bad way to spend my afterlife.
His serious look softened, then he grinned again. “Come on. I bet it’ll cheer Skorn up if Death himself shows up to game night.”
If there was any goodness left in me from my life centuries ago—or if I had any less hatred for the fae—I might’ve said yes. But I couldn’t care less about Lorien, the Tide Fae Warrior who grinned at me every time I passed, or Skorn, the Frost Fae Warrior who could vanish tomorrow and I wouldn’t even notice.
I had a job to do. A soul to reap. And I was done obliging Taelon and his never-ending quest to befriend me.
Without a word, I turned and walked away.
“Just find us if you change your mind!” he called after me, but I didn’t turn around.
Instead, I walked out of the Umbral Keep to where my wings would work again. None of us knew why, but no matter how dark the shadow, we couldn’t slice our way around inside.
As soon as I hit the open air of the world that existed in eternal grey twilight, I felt the pull of my assignment strengthen—like a beacon only I could feel calling me to it.
But this sensation was different from normal souls. Those felt like single notes in the vast symphony of death—some high and frantic, others low and resigned. This one... this one sang a melody I hadn’t heard before. Something... unique.
Using my wings to slice through the Shadowveil to where the soul pulled me, I followed it to a small village near the border of the Storm Court and the Sylvan Court. I walked through the bustling marketplace behind the veil making me invisible to fae living their lives unaware Death marched beside them.
I looked around, the pull strengthening as I turned a corner near the blacksmith.
And then... there she was.
Moving through the crowd, calling out, trying to touch people who walked straight through her.
I watched the young woman with the long auburn hair, studying her from a distance. Her thin pink gown, covered in blood, barely concealed her curves, brushing lightly against her skin as she ran back and forth, her pleas for help falling on deaf ears as no living fae could see her. If I had any empathy for her kind, I may have felt bad for her, but even though she was beautiful and looked frightened, she was just another fae soon to be erased. Another small revenge in my endless quest to balance the scales.
I moved closer, positioning myself for the reaping, waiting for her to step into a shadow so I could snag her. One quick slice through the veil, one firm pull into the Shadowveil, and the anomaly would be resolved. I struggled to understand why she’d been so elusive to the others.
But before she stepped into the shadows, she suddenly spun around. Her eyes locked onto mine, an impossibility as no one, not living nor dead, could see behind the veil. But there was no doubt those big blue eyes were staring into mine.
