This is the story of a debt unforgotten, and the Seraph child who gave me my life...
(to return to Rei and Robin's page, click here)
He woke without warning, woke into darkness, woke without knowing why.
It was night still; though his room had no windows, there was no steady glow beneath the door to indicate the household had awoken and begun their day. Nearby, he could hear the soft snoring of his cousins. Nothing out of the ordinary, nothing that should have woken him. And yet…
Outside, in the hallway, came a soft thud and a muttered curse.
In an instant, Robin was wide awake, adrenaline surging in his veins. He was a Seraph, after all; raised from birth to the understanding that life is fraught with peril and is often short. Seven years old, he fully understood that whatever waited outside that door might be intent on his death. Still, he wasn’t afraid. One hand curled around the hilt of the chipped dagger he’d ‘borrowed’ from the family’s training ground; silently, the boy slipped out of bed and padded towards the door.
As he got ever-closer, footsteps became audible in the hall outside. More than one pair, to be sure, but… strange. It sounded almost like shuffling, though why someone would shuffle while trying to go unnoticed was beyond him. He stood there for a long moment, his back pressed to the wall and dagger in hand, and as the sounds began to recede finally mustered the courage to push the door open just the faintest bit and look out into the hall beyond.
The initial sight was a relief, but confusing. From the white-and-red robes they wore, he knew the two men were family; in his few trips beyond the walls of the family home, he’d never seen anyone else who wore anything like Seraph garb. But the third shape between his kin, the one being half led, half dragged… Dark, dark. Clothing as black as the night sky, as black as the darkness underneath his bed. He only caught a second’s glimpse of them all, and then they were gone, around a corner and out of his sight.
It was not until after that he looked at the ground and saw the smeared red of blood in their path.
It was night still; though his room had no windows, there was no steady glow beneath the door to indicate the household had awoken and begun their day. Nearby, he could hear the soft snoring of his cousins. Nothing out of the ordinary, nothing that should have woken him. And yet…
Outside, in the hallway, came a soft thud and a muttered curse.
In an instant, Robin was wide awake, adrenaline surging in his veins. He was a Seraph, after all; raised from birth to the understanding that life is fraught with peril and is often short. Seven years old, he fully understood that whatever waited outside that door might be intent on his death. Still, he wasn’t afraid. One hand curled around the hilt of the chipped dagger he’d ‘borrowed’ from the family’s training ground; silently, the boy slipped out of bed and padded towards the door.
As he got ever-closer, footsteps became audible in the hall outside. More than one pair, to be sure, but… strange. It sounded almost like shuffling, though why someone would shuffle while trying to go unnoticed was beyond him. He stood there for a long moment, his back pressed to the wall and dagger in hand, and as the sounds began to recede finally mustered the courage to push the door open just the faintest bit and look out into the hall beyond.
The initial sight was a relief, but confusing. From the white-and-red robes they wore, he knew the two men were family; in his few trips beyond the walls of the family home, he’d never seen anyone else who wore anything like Seraph garb. But the third shape between his kin, the one being half led, half dragged… Dark, dark. Clothing as black as the night sky, as black as the darkness underneath his bed. He only caught a second’s glimpse of them all, and then they were gone, around a corner and out of his sight.
It was not until after that he looked at the ground and saw the smeared red of blood in their path.
It was three days until he finally managed to escape to the quiet of his hallway. The house had been in an uproar; when he woke the morning after the strange sight in the hallway—thinking it had been a dream—he’d found the entire family in turmoil. Something had clearly happened, something important and probably to do with the third man he’d seen that night. Whatever had happened, though, it had apparently been decided his cousins and he were too young to be told. Despite his best efforts at coaxing the truth out of his parents, Robin had been kindly but firmly rebuffed every time.
To be completely honest, he’d gone to the door to sulk. It had taken some skill to make it down there without being seen, but the boy had practically flown down the worn stone stairs into the gloom; when he reached the familiar solidity of the door, he sunk down with his back against the wood with a deep sigh.
It was several minutes before he realized he was not alone.
As the quiet and stillness of the shadows slowly relaxed his mind, Robin felt himself growing sleepy. It was so nice to just close his eyes, the only sounds those of his own heartbeat and breath… And then, all at once, he realized it was not only his own breath he was hearing.
There was someone on the other side of the door.
As though the other person had made that same realization simultaneously, there was the sound of fabric brushing against stone. “Seraph,” a low voice said tonelessly.
There was something in that voice that made him shiver. Though it was utterly without emotion—almost without life, it seemed to Robin—there was… something. Something that told his most animal instincts to run, to escape from the predator that voice belonged to. He could feel the hair raise on the back of his neck, an unsettling prickle.
“What have you come for, Seraph? I can offer you little sport locked behind this door.”
After several unsuccessful tries, Robin finally found his voice. “Who—who are you?”
“Your death, Seraph.”
There, in the dark, with that terrible voice, it was too much. His heart hammering as though it would leap from his chest, Robin ran.
To be completely honest, he’d gone to the door to sulk. It had taken some skill to make it down there without being seen, but the boy had practically flown down the worn stone stairs into the gloom; when he reached the familiar solidity of the door, he sunk down with his back against the wood with a deep sigh.
It was several minutes before he realized he was not alone.
As the quiet and stillness of the shadows slowly relaxed his mind, Robin felt himself growing sleepy. It was so nice to just close his eyes, the only sounds those of his own heartbeat and breath… And then, all at once, he realized it was not only his own breath he was hearing.
There was someone on the other side of the door.
As though the other person had made that same realization simultaneously, there was the sound of fabric brushing against stone. “Seraph,” a low voice said tonelessly.
There was something in that voice that made him shiver. Though it was utterly without emotion—almost without life, it seemed to Robin—there was… something. Something that told his most animal instincts to run, to escape from the predator that voice belonged to. He could feel the hair raise on the back of his neck, an unsettling prickle.
“What have you come for, Seraph? I can offer you little sport locked behind this door.”
After several unsuccessful tries, Robin finally found his voice. “Who—who are you?”
“Your death, Seraph.”
There, in the dark, with that terrible voice, it was too much. His heart hammering as though it would leap from his chest, Robin ran.
A day passed, and the boy couldn’t help but feel foolish. Whatever was behind that door, it couldn’t hurt him. It couldn’t possibly hurt him. When he next found the courage to descend the stairs into the shadows, though, the stolen dagger pressed against his ribs.
Nothing had changed. The door was still there, as it had always been.
There was only silence, though. As much as he might strain his ears, Robin could hear no sign of life on the other side of the door.
At last, he could take the waiting no longer. Crouched warily a foot or so from the door, dagger in hand, he willed his voice to remain steady and asked in a hoarse whisper, “Are you in there?”
There was a long moment of silence, and he had almost decided to leave when at long last that voice answered. “I am still here, Seraph.”
It sounded… different this time. Weaker. More humam.
“Who are you?”
A pause. “Who are you, who does not know?”
“Ro—” Belatedly, Robin realized it might not be wise to tell this being his name. “It doesn’t matter! Tell me who you are!” He hesitated, then added, “Please.”
There was a moment of disbelieving silence on the other side of the door, and then he heard a faint chuckle. It was the most human sound he’d heard yet. “You are a strange one, Seraph who says ‘please’ to the likes of me.”
“Please, who are you?”
“Very well, Seraph.” There was a rustle, and the voice grew just slightly louder. Robin had the feeling whoever lay beyond that door had drawn closer, that they were only a few feet away. “I am Rei, of many names. I have been called Red Blade, and Chosen, and the Nameless. I have been called Skinwalker’s Child. I have been called shadowborne, and I have been called the falcon.”
The shadows seemed to darken. “I am the Reaper, little Seraph.”
And the world stopped.
Or at least, it stopped for Robin. He felt a terror welling somewhere deep within him, rising up until it threatened to escape in a scream. The Reaper. He’d been sitting alone in the dark, separated from the Reaper only by a barrier of wood… and how flimsy that door seemed now, how scant a barrier.
For every Seraph, the Reaper was the first and last fear. It was the monster in the closet, the creature under the bed, the nightmare waiting to pounce as soon as the lights were turned out. But that fear was made infinitely more piercing because the Reaper was real, and one day they would have to face it.
The Reaper was their eternal enemy, once something close to human, but twisted beyond recognition by a dark god. Throughout centuries, millennia, Seraphs had hunted the Reaper; they had killed individual Reapers, certainly, but when one died another was always waiting. In such a way their foe became eternal… And eternal, the Seraphs were not. For every Reaper they brought down, they paid a heavy price in the lives of their own fallen. Since his earliest memories, Robin had seen his family die year after year. He’d slowly come to accept, as all Seraphs did, that the hunt would eventually extract its bloody cost.
He’d wondered how it would be when he was old enough to fight. He’d wondered what would happen the first time he faced that terrible enemy for the first time. And he’d woken, more nights than he could count, tearing free of nightmares where a vast shadow full of teeth and claws engulfed him and he was lost forever.
And now the Reaper was there with him, in the dark. On the other side of the door.
The door had never seemed so thin.
He lost his balance and landed hard on the stone, dagger still clenched in one white-knuckled hand. Behind the door, there was a soft sound. It sounded almost like a sigh. “Run, little Seraph,” the Reaper whispered. “I am your death.”
If he had been less terrified, Robin would have taken that advice and run like demons themselves hounded his steps. But he couldn’t. He couldn’t seem to move a muscle.
Beyond the door, another rustle. “Run,” that voice gritted out. There was something like anger in it now, an undercurrent that sounded like eagles screaming. Robin could feel his body shaking uncontrollably at the sound. He couldn’t help but whimper, and the small part of him that remained free of that mind-crushing terror felt a pang of shame.
The Reaper must have heard; there was only silence for several minutes. Struggling to unlock his frozen muscles, Robin clung desperately to silence.
He wasn’t expecting it, but at last the voice on the far side of the door spoke again. “You are still here.” The anger was gone, the words quiet once more. “Why do you stay?”
Speech was a struggle, and when he finally managed, Robin realized he had no idea what to say. To his embarrassment, the truth came out. “I’m too s-scared…” Tears squeezed from the corner of his eyes. Of all the things he could have said, why did it have to be that? His father wouldn’t have said that. A real Seraph wouldn’t have said that. Only a stupid child--
On the far side of the door, he faintly heard another sigh. Silence stretched out for a few moments before the Reaper quietly said, “How young are you, Seraph?”
“Wh—why does it matter?”
“You are a child.”
“I’m still a Seraph!” Robin forced the words out, feeling a faint glow of defiance begin to cut through his fear.
His proclamation didn’t seem to have had much effect. On the far side of the door, the voice had grown fainter; Robin was sure the Reaper had moved away from him. “I am caged, Seraph child, rotting here in the dark. You are safe from me this day.” The words faded. Perhaps the shadows themselves had swallowed his voice.
Though Robin’s muscles gradually relaxed, and though he finally gathered the courage to call out to the Reaper again, there was no answer. All that lay behind that door was silence and shadows.
The nightmare was gone.
Nothing had changed. The door was still there, as it had always been.
There was only silence, though. As much as he might strain his ears, Robin could hear no sign of life on the other side of the door.
At last, he could take the waiting no longer. Crouched warily a foot or so from the door, dagger in hand, he willed his voice to remain steady and asked in a hoarse whisper, “Are you in there?”
There was a long moment of silence, and he had almost decided to leave when at long last that voice answered. “I am still here, Seraph.”
It sounded… different this time. Weaker. More humam.
“Who are you?”
A pause. “Who are you, who does not know?”
“Ro—” Belatedly, Robin realized it might not be wise to tell this being his name. “It doesn’t matter! Tell me who you are!” He hesitated, then added, “Please.”
There was a moment of disbelieving silence on the other side of the door, and then he heard a faint chuckle. It was the most human sound he’d heard yet. “You are a strange one, Seraph who says ‘please’ to the likes of me.”
“Please, who are you?”
“Very well, Seraph.” There was a rustle, and the voice grew just slightly louder. Robin had the feeling whoever lay beyond that door had drawn closer, that they were only a few feet away. “I am Rei, of many names. I have been called Red Blade, and Chosen, and the Nameless. I have been called Skinwalker’s Child. I have been called shadowborne, and I have been called the falcon.”
The shadows seemed to darken. “I am the Reaper, little Seraph.”
And the world stopped.
Or at least, it stopped for Robin. He felt a terror welling somewhere deep within him, rising up until it threatened to escape in a scream. The Reaper. He’d been sitting alone in the dark, separated from the Reaper only by a barrier of wood… and how flimsy that door seemed now, how scant a barrier.
For every Seraph, the Reaper was the first and last fear. It was the monster in the closet, the creature under the bed, the nightmare waiting to pounce as soon as the lights were turned out. But that fear was made infinitely more piercing because the Reaper was real, and one day they would have to face it.
The Reaper was their eternal enemy, once something close to human, but twisted beyond recognition by a dark god. Throughout centuries, millennia, Seraphs had hunted the Reaper; they had killed individual Reapers, certainly, but when one died another was always waiting. In such a way their foe became eternal… And eternal, the Seraphs were not. For every Reaper they brought down, they paid a heavy price in the lives of their own fallen. Since his earliest memories, Robin had seen his family die year after year. He’d slowly come to accept, as all Seraphs did, that the hunt would eventually extract its bloody cost.
He’d wondered how it would be when he was old enough to fight. He’d wondered what would happen the first time he faced that terrible enemy for the first time. And he’d woken, more nights than he could count, tearing free of nightmares where a vast shadow full of teeth and claws engulfed him and he was lost forever.
And now the Reaper was there with him, in the dark. On the other side of the door.
The door had never seemed so thin.
He lost his balance and landed hard on the stone, dagger still clenched in one white-knuckled hand. Behind the door, there was a soft sound. It sounded almost like a sigh. “Run, little Seraph,” the Reaper whispered. “I am your death.”
If he had been less terrified, Robin would have taken that advice and run like demons themselves hounded his steps. But he couldn’t. He couldn’t seem to move a muscle.
Beyond the door, another rustle. “Run,” that voice gritted out. There was something like anger in it now, an undercurrent that sounded like eagles screaming. Robin could feel his body shaking uncontrollably at the sound. He couldn’t help but whimper, and the small part of him that remained free of that mind-crushing terror felt a pang of shame.
The Reaper must have heard; there was only silence for several minutes. Struggling to unlock his frozen muscles, Robin clung desperately to silence.
He wasn’t expecting it, but at last the voice on the far side of the door spoke again. “You are still here.” The anger was gone, the words quiet once more. “Why do you stay?”
Speech was a struggle, and when he finally managed, Robin realized he had no idea what to say. To his embarrassment, the truth came out. “I’m too s-scared…” Tears squeezed from the corner of his eyes. Of all the things he could have said, why did it have to be that? His father wouldn’t have said that. A real Seraph wouldn’t have said that. Only a stupid child--
On the far side of the door, he faintly heard another sigh. Silence stretched out for a few moments before the Reaper quietly said, “How young are you, Seraph?”
“Wh—why does it matter?”
“You are a child.”
“I’m still a Seraph!” Robin forced the words out, feeling a faint glow of defiance begin to cut through his fear.
His proclamation didn’t seem to have had much effect. On the far side of the door, the voice had grown fainter; Robin was sure the Reaper had moved away from him. “I am caged, Seraph child, rotting here in the dark. You are safe from me this day.” The words faded. Perhaps the shadows themselves had swallowed his voice.
Though Robin’s muscles gradually relaxed, and though he finally gathered the courage to call out to the Reaper again, there was no answer. All that lay behind that door was silence and shadows.
The nightmare was gone.
Time marched onwards, and Robin slowly learned more of the Reaper in bits and pieces, scraps of conversation that nobody had realized he’d heard. Somehow, his family had captured the nightmare; he could never seem to find out how, but they’d done it. And now… It was hard to say what was to be done with him now.
Some Seraphs—Robin’s father and uncle, to be certain, for he’d heard it while they talked in the next room—wanted to kill the Reaper, pay him back for the death he’d caused with a slow, horrible end. Listening to them, Robin felt a sick feeling deep in his stomach; though he didn’t hear or understand all of what they said, the parts he did understand were horrible. He could hardly believe his own family would do the things they were suggesting… but it was to the Reaper. Was the Reaper even human? He tried to remember all his dead cousins, aunts, uncles, and remember that the nightmare behind the door had killed them… but it was hard. In the end, all he ended up feeling was a horrible, trapped feeling; sick with confusion and the aimless, helpless grief of a child.
Luckily, he was spared some of the horror. Calling the family together, the Huntlord—his father’s cousin, Katherine—announced that the Reaper would not be killed. Though he knew it was for practical reasons, Robin couldn’t help but feel a guilty relief spread through him. Instead, the Huntlord announced, they would keep the Reaper imprisoned, locked away until they could find a means to destroy him forever.
In the aftermath of that meeting, Robin lay awake, listening to his parents in the next room. His father was speaking in a low, angry voice, in words that were impossible to distinguish; he could hear a soothing murmur that was his mother trying to calm that rage.
The boy felt sick. He’d never heard his father so angry.
Later that night, after the voices next door had ceased, he crept silently through the halls of the house and descended the stairs with bare feet. The door waited, unchanging as always.
The Reaper was waiting for him.
“Little Seraph,” he said softly. “I thought you had come to your senses at last.”
“What?”
“You should not come here. You should not speak with me.”
Robin looked down. “I know. I just…”
“Just what, little Seraph?”
“I wanted to see… if you were alive.”
There was a low chuckle from the other side of the door, surprised but not unkind. “I’m touched, Seraph.”
“They were talking about you… my father wants to kill you, but they’re going to keep you alive.”
“For now.” The Reaper’s voice had turned toneless again. “I know what will become of me.”
They sat there in silence for a long time, Reaper and Seraph on either side of that door. It had been long enough that Robin was starting to drift off to sleep when he heard that low voice. “You should not come here again.”
“I know.”
“Do not forget what I am. You have been kind to me; remember that I am your enemy.”
Robin stayed silent. For all his dispassionate threats, the Reaper was… different. Not what he was supposed to be. Not the nightmare he was supposed to be.
None of this was what it was supposed to be.
Some Seraphs—Robin’s father and uncle, to be certain, for he’d heard it while they talked in the next room—wanted to kill the Reaper, pay him back for the death he’d caused with a slow, horrible end. Listening to them, Robin felt a sick feeling deep in his stomach; though he didn’t hear or understand all of what they said, the parts he did understand were horrible. He could hardly believe his own family would do the things they were suggesting… but it was to the Reaper. Was the Reaper even human? He tried to remember all his dead cousins, aunts, uncles, and remember that the nightmare behind the door had killed them… but it was hard. In the end, all he ended up feeling was a horrible, trapped feeling; sick with confusion and the aimless, helpless grief of a child.
Luckily, he was spared some of the horror. Calling the family together, the Huntlord—his father’s cousin, Katherine—announced that the Reaper would not be killed. Though he knew it was for practical reasons, Robin couldn’t help but feel a guilty relief spread through him. Instead, the Huntlord announced, they would keep the Reaper imprisoned, locked away until they could find a means to destroy him forever.
In the aftermath of that meeting, Robin lay awake, listening to his parents in the next room. His father was speaking in a low, angry voice, in words that were impossible to distinguish; he could hear a soothing murmur that was his mother trying to calm that rage.
The boy felt sick. He’d never heard his father so angry.
Later that night, after the voices next door had ceased, he crept silently through the halls of the house and descended the stairs with bare feet. The door waited, unchanging as always.
The Reaper was waiting for him.
“Little Seraph,” he said softly. “I thought you had come to your senses at last.”
“What?”
“You should not come here. You should not speak with me.”
Robin looked down. “I know. I just…”
“Just what, little Seraph?”
“I wanted to see… if you were alive.”
There was a low chuckle from the other side of the door, surprised but not unkind. “I’m touched, Seraph.”
“They were talking about you… my father wants to kill you, but they’re going to keep you alive.”
“For now.” The Reaper’s voice had turned toneless again. “I know what will become of me.”
They sat there in silence for a long time, Reaper and Seraph on either side of that door. It had been long enough that Robin was starting to drift off to sleep when he heard that low voice. “You should not come here again.”
“I know.”
“Do not forget what I am. You have been kind to me; remember that I am your enemy.”
Robin stayed silent. For all his dispassionate threats, the Reaper was… different. Not what he was supposed to be. Not the nightmare he was supposed to be.
None of this was what it was supposed to be.
The Seraph boy’s visits were the only interruption to the unending darkness and silence. Though he’d long ago learned to blur time, eliminate his hunger and thirst and pass the hours, Rei found that the tedium was wearing on him more than he’d anticipated. He was a caged bird, and it was beginning to tell.
Still, despite his warnings, the Seraph returned again and again. At first, Rei had suspected him to be a trap, bait to lure him into complacency. But the child’s persistence had slowly worn down his doubts, and Rei found himself looking forward to those brief, strange conversations, those only respites from the otherwise unending solitude.
It was dangerous. So dangerous.
He’d never learned the child’s name, and never intended to. Already, it was becoming hard to think of him as a Seraph despite Rei’s best attempts; that could be a deadly mistake. Rei was the Reaper, and would be until the day he died. If the Seraphs meant to kill him here, he would seize any chance that came his way to break free… and if that child stood in his way, what then?
He could not afford to think of a Seraph, any Seraph, as anything less than an enemy.
But it was proving more difficult than he ever could have imagined.
Still, despite his warnings, the Seraph returned again and again. At first, Rei had suspected him to be a trap, bait to lure him into complacency. But the child’s persistence had slowly worn down his doubts, and Rei found himself looking forward to those brief, strange conversations, those only respites from the otherwise unending solitude.
It was dangerous. So dangerous.
He’d never learned the child’s name, and never intended to. Already, it was becoming hard to think of him as a Seraph despite Rei’s best attempts; that could be a deadly mistake. Rei was the Reaper, and would be until the day he died. If the Seraphs meant to kill him here, he would seize any chance that came his way to break free… and if that child stood in his way, what then?
He could not afford to think of a Seraph, any Seraph, as anything less than an enemy.
But it was proving more difficult than he ever could have imagined.
“They’re coming for you, Rei.”
“When?”
“Soon.” Robin leaned his head back against the door, as he had so many times in the past months. How things had changed, in that time. He was eight years old now, still a child, but his nighttime talks with the Reaper had aged him more than he knew.
And the Reaper… it had become impossible to think of that voice behind the door as an enemy any longer. As the weeks and months had passed, Robin had taken to calling the prisoner by his name. Despite the Reaper’s—Rei’s—protests, he had heard a faint note of gratitude buried deep under the feigned scorn.
They’d become friends.
Strange friends, to be certain. By his own admission, Rei was old for a human; the Reaper’s blood might have slowed his aging, but he was still older that Robin’s father by a good many years. Still, the difference in their ages was of little significance. Robin had lived all his life in a house full of a large, extended family; it was all too easy to think of Rei as some sort of uncle. An uncle he’d never seen.
That was, perhaps, the strangest aspect of their friendship; neither had seen the other’s face. Robin had spent more than one night guiltily wondering what his strange companion might look like, if they had met under other, different circumstance. He’d ask Rei about it, but the question had been met only with quiet laughter. What do I look like?, the Reaper had said, I couldn’t tell you. I know what I looked like before, when I was human, but that was long years ago. Since then… My reflection is something I’ve seen only as a bird in flight, mirrored in still water, and that is not the answer you are looking for.
Still, it didn’t matter. He didn’t have to see Rei’s face to be his friend. But that friendship grew ever easier—and more difficult—as the months rolled by, and the intense research being undertaken by the older Seraphs began to yield results.
It had been two weeks, now. Two weeks since Katherine had called a meeting of the clan with important news.
Her red hair had been disarray, flying wildly about her shoulders. Under other circumstances Katherine’s appearance might have looked careless, but seeing her flushed with excitement and triumph, it was hard to look past her face. Green eyes raked the crowd assembled before her.
“Soon!” she roared, “Soon, we will have unlocked the secrets to destroy the Reaper forever! Soon, his days of walking on this earth as the shadow of a foul god shall be done, and we shall rise like bright flames to cleanse what he has left behind!”
There had been cheers after she spoke, filled with an intensity that frightened Robin. To his ears, it sounded like one great beast howling from a thousand throats thirsty for blood.
He couldn’t let it happen. He didn’t know yet what he’d do, didn’t know how he could side with their ancient enemy over his own family, but he couldn’t let that bloodlust consume Rei.
“You understand that there is nothing you can do, little Seraph.”
The quiet voice broke through the haze of worry surroundinlg him, and Robin started. “What?”
“There is nothing to be done. My fate has been decided since they brought me here.”
There wasn’t any good way to respond to that, and the boy didn’t try. What could he do, after all? He was just a child; there was nobody who would take his word over centuries of experience. Nobody who would believe that this Reaper wasn’t everything they believed.
“It can’t be, Rei.”
“Little Seraph. Tell me you understand. Tell me you will stay away when the time comes.”
Frustration tightened Robin’s throat, brought tears to the corner of his eyes. “Why do you still call me that? My name’s—”
“No.” A moment later, in a quieter tone, Rei’s voice repeated, “No. Do not tell me your name.”
“But—”
“I do not want to know your name. I should not have told you mine. It will only make things harder.”
“Robin.” There was a silence. “My name is Robin.”
A long, long pause. “You do me no kindness by telling me this.”
“I’m sorry. I just… I wanted you to know.”
From the other side of the door, he heard a sigh. The rustle of feathers against stone. “I understand, little… Robin. If things were other than what they are, if we were not a Reaper and a Seraph-child, I would be glad to have known your name. But as things are…”
“I’m sorry, Rei.”
“I thank you, Robin. Now go.”
“When?”
“Soon.” Robin leaned his head back against the door, as he had so many times in the past months. How things had changed, in that time. He was eight years old now, still a child, but his nighttime talks with the Reaper had aged him more than he knew.
And the Reaper… it had become impossible to think of that voice behind the door as an enemy any longer. As the weeks and months had passed, Robin had taken to calling the prisoner by his name. Despite the Reaper’s—Rei’s—protests, he had heard a faint note of gratitude buried deep under the feigned scorn.
They’d become friends.
Strange friends, to be certain. By his own admission, Rei was old for a human; the Reaper’s blood might have slowed his aging, but he was still older that Robin’s father by a good many years. Still, the difference in their ages was of little significance. Robin had lived all his life in a house full of a large, extended family; it was all too easy to think of Rei as some sort of uncle. An uncle he’d never seen.
That was, perhaps, the strangest aspect of their friendship; neither had seen the other’s face. Robin had spent more than one night guiltily wondering what his strange companion might look like, if they had met under other, different circumstance. He’d ask Rei about it, but the question had been met only with quiet laughter. What do I look like?, the Reaper had said, I couldn’t tell you. I know what I looked like before, when I was human, but that was long years ago. Since then… My reflection is something I’ve seen only as a bird in flight, mirrored in still water, and that is not the answer you are looking for.
Still, it didn’t matter. He didn’t have to see Rei’s face to be his friend. But that friendship grew ever easier—and more difficult—as the months rolled by, and the intense research being undertaken by the older Seraphs began to yield results.
It had been two weeks, now. Two weeks since Katherine had called a meeting of the clan with important news.
Her red hair had been disarray, flying wildly about her shoulders. Under other circumstances Katherine’s appearance might have looked careless, but seeing her flushed with excitement and triumph, it was hard to look past her face. Green eyes raked the crowd assembled before her.
“Soon!” she roared, “Soon, we will have unlocked the secrets to destroy the Reaper forever! Soon, his days of walking on this earth as the shadow of a foul god shall be done, and we shall rise like bright flames to cleanse what he has left behind!”
There had been cheers after she spoke, filled with an intensity that frightened Robin. To his ears, it sounded like one great beast howling from a thousand throats thirsty for blood.
He couldn’t let it happen. He didn’t know yet what he’d do, didn’t know how he could side with their ancient enemy over his own family, but he couldn’t let that bloodlust consume Rei.
“You understand that there is nothing you can do, little Seraph.”
The quiet voice broke through the haze of worry surroundinlg him, and Robin started. “What?”
“There is nothing to be done. My fate has been decided since they brought me here.”
There wasn’t any good way to respond to that, and the boy didn’t try. What could he do, after all? He was just a child; there was nobody who would take his word over centuries of experience. Nobody who would believe that this Reaper wasn’t everything they believed.
“It can’t be, Rei.”
“Little Seraph. Tell me you understand. Tell me you will stay away when the time comes.”
Frustration tightened Robin’s throat, brought tears to the corner of his eyes. “Why do you still call me that? My name’s—”
“No.” A moment later, in a quieter tone, Rei’s voice repeated, “No. Do not tell me your name.”
“But—”
“I do not want to know your name. I should not have told you mine. It will only make things harder.”
“Robin.” There was a silence. “My name is Robin.”
A long, long pause. “You do me no kindness by telling me this.”
“I’m sorry. I just… I wanted you to know.”
From the other side of the door, he heard a sigh. The rustle of feathers against stone. “I understand, little… Robin. If things were other than what they are, if we were not a Reaper and a Seraph-child, I would be glad to have known your name. But as things are…”
“I’m sorry, Rei.”
“I thank you, Robin. Now go.”
He could sense them coming long before their footsteps became audible. After so many years, a Reaper became accustomed to the tightening of the strings of fate; the prospect of his own death thrummed through the very air. So when the sound of blades being drawn on the far side of the door echoed through his dark prison, he felt no surprise, only a weary resignation, and donned the birdskull mask that formed in his hands. At least it would be over, this caging. At least there would be an end.
To be sure, it would not be a peaceful end. He would not go meekly to the slaughter; if he was to die this day, his body would fall amidst a sea of his dead foes. There was no alternative, no other way… and yet, for just a moment, Rei regretted it. And the danger of that thought was enough to make him frown.
Regret for Seraphs? He knew all too well what the demon-blooded killers were capable of; the less of their kind walked the earth, the better. It was the boy, bringing these doubts into his head, and once again Rei cursed his decision to speak on that first day he’d heard another heartbeat on the far side of that truesilver-etched door.
Robin. So hard not to think of him by name, now that it was revealed. Robin… a child, only a child, and one who seemed ill-suited to his blood inheritance. Innocent.
It seemed a poor sort of honor, to repay that child’s company with the bodies of his family. And yet, there was no other way. This day would end only in blood.
The door grated open, cutting short his inner monologue, and Rei squinted into the dim light that poured into his prison. The shadowy figures on the far side carried only glowstones, yet the meager illumination was dazzling to eyes that had seen only darkness for months.
“Reaper.”
“Seraph.” Though his entire body thrummed with adrenaline, he forced his voice to a dead calm. “It is time, then?”
In response, one of the Seraphs lashed a hand forwards. Rei had been expecting an attack, was already in motion, and then everything exploded into light. He cried out, stumbled, his eyes a mass of pain, and felt wire-thin cords tighten around his limbs. A sensation of bitter cold, one that he knew all to well from the days he’d lingered near the door to speak with Robin. Truesilver.
Well and truly bound, the magic in his blood out of reach, Rei slumped to the ground. The cords of truesilver slid across his wings, and the pain was enough to bring him to his feet once more. Panting softly behind his mask, he raised his eyes to his captors with any lingering doubts washed away by hatred.
As he approached, the Seraphs became more clear. A man whose face was twisted into a cruel smile held the other end of those magical restraints in one hand; the other held a dagger trained on Rei. To the other side of the hallway, a woman with a deeply creased scar down the side of her face scowled in his direction; it was likely that Rei himself had left that scar, though he did not remember it. A handful of others, more faces he did not recall though he’d likely faced them all in battle. But the Reaper spared them hardly a glance, his golden eyes focusing instead on the Seraph who stood at the center of the cluster. She looked back at him coolly, red hair cascading over her shoulders and reaching almost to the red sash that marked her as Huntlord.
Katherine. The leader of the Seraphs, and thus, his most bitter enemy.
She nodded to him as he approached. “Tell me, Reaper, how does it feel to know that you will be the last of your line?”
“I would tell you if I knew, Seraph. Perhaps. However, I am not, and so I do not.”
“I admire your self-assurance.” Turning her back to him—and how Rei’s blood burned, with his enemy so close and yet utterly unreachable—Katherine beckoned to her flock. They fell in around him, a circle of pointed blades that scraped painful furrows across his clothing and skin. It was in such a way that they brought him up that long hallway and out into the courtyard.
It was night, and yet the light was still almost too much for Rei’s eyes to manage. He squinted from below his mask, taking in the circle of flames that surrounded him; Seraphs lined the courtyard in a silent circle, armed, watching him with varying levels of hatred. The whole clan must have been assembled, for children were mixed among that circle, and he couldn’t help but search those faces, looking for Robin.
Of course, how could he? He’d never seen the boy’s face, only heard his voice… and yet, when his eyes fell upon a Seraph child at the far side of the circle, he knew. The boy’s eyes met his without fear, and there was despair in their gaze. Rei let his eyes shift,as much as he could manage while bound by the truesilver, and faintly saw the fate lines winding thick between them. It was Robin.
So small. He hadn’t known; though he’d understood that the Seraph was a child, this boy couldn’t have been more than ten, if that. A slight build, brown hair in need of a good trim that hung in wisps in the boy’s eyes, billowing robes clearly too big for him and likely borrowed for the occasion…
He’d gone to such lengths to keep the child at arm’s length, had spent months refusing to think of him with a name, with a face, and yet just this one glance was enough to sweep it all away. Those months of kindness, of companionship had taken their toll, and without even trying, the Seraphs had crippled his defenses. If Robin came between Rei and freedom, there could be no escape worth the price he would have to pay.
A part of him wished the truesilver gone, so that he could at least reach out with his mind to say a final farewell. And yet he knew that, even if he could, it would be no mercy. Robin had befriended him; he might well grow into adulthood thinking the Reaper was no enemy. And while the thought stirred hope in Rei’s heart, a pale, tentative hope that perhaps this Seraph could change… he also knew all too well it would likely lead to a swift death at the hands of the next Reaper.
The best defense he could give the child was to become the beast they expected. To rain blood from the skies. It would be betraying that small friendship they’d found… but it would keep Robin safe. As safe as he could make him.
And then there was no time to think; they were dragging him to a smooth stone altar at the center of the courtyard. Polished stone, white marble carved into intricate, twisting patterns of serpents and flames. And chains. Most notably, chains, set into either side.
They took him to the altar, and chained him down, and then slowly backed away. The wires of truesilver unwound from about him, but it was no help; the chains had also been worked with truesilver, and held him just as helplessly. Twisting his head to the side, Rei watched as Katherine stalked slowly forward until she stood before him, and then turned to address the Seraphs.
“My family, the hour of our triumph is at hand!”
The cheers, so filled with bloodlust, sickened him, and Rei tuned her out and instead cast his gaze about in an attempt to find anything that might give him a chance. The chains that bound him were strong, too strong to snap without the aid of the magical strength that he could not reach. Still, though… the truesilver had not affected his wings, which he could otherwise manifest or retract. Perhaps the substance had simply locked him in his current form, and if that was the case, then he could still rely on the wings. And they were powerful in their own right… perhaps powerful enough to break his chains. Rei shuddered at the thought of what such an action might do to less durable parts of his body—such as the arms the chains were locked to—but concentrated solely on what he had to gain. Freedom.
Keeping his wings still, for the moment, he turned his gaze instead to the courtyard and began to inspect it with new interest. Fortunate for him that they held their ceremonies under the open sky; if he succeeded in freeing himself, he would have a distinct advantage over his foes, who flew through magic rather than instinct. They would not keep pace with him in the air, his natural domain; Rei was sure of it. He’d not been conscious when he was brought here, and so remained unaware of the surrounding terrain, but leafy treetops brushed the sky beyond the roofs of the Seraph home. Better and better; Rei knew his abilities, and knew he was agile enough to fly under tree cover if necessary.
If he could only get free, he might have a chance.
Still searching the area from what limited range of vision he had, he noticed with a start that Robin had disappeared. Rei was the only one who seemed to have noticed, for if the boy had been standing near his parents then they had apparently not noted his absence; the Seraphs were utterly fixated on their leader and seemed aware of nothing else. But to the Reaper, the disappearance of the one person in the courtyard that he could call friend was troubling. If he was to enact his escape, the situation could and likely would turn bloody rapidly. Not knowing where Robin was meant not knowing where to hold back his attacks.
He scanned the crowd frantically, but the brown-haired Seraph child had vanished, and now Katherine was turning to him with glowing flame in her hands. “Nameless Reaper, hated enemy of our people, your days are done .Let your evil be cleansed by flame, let your legacy vanish as ash to the wind.” With one blazing hand, she reached out and ran a finger across the Reaper amulet on Rei’s chest; though his clothes were manifested of shadow and would not burn, he couldn’t help but feel the pain of the heat and gave a muffled exclamation. Katherine grinned down at him, then abruptly spun and walked away. The Reaper watched her go in confusion… until he saw her bend down and trail a hand along the ground. Flames surged upwards, and he realized the floor of the courtyard was slick with oil.
Truly, then, they meant to burn him.
It made sense. To the Seraphs, fire was a manifestation of the demon blood that lingered in their veins from the distant ancestor they mistakenly revered as a god. Giving a body—be it friend or enemy—to the flames condemned the soul to the realm of that ‘god’; whether the demon they called the Immortal Flame could truly steal those souls was a mystery, but Rei had no desire to find out firsthand. No matter where his soul might end up, his body would be just as dead. But it was too early to act now, and so he forced himself to lie still and calm as the flames licked ever closer. He had to wait as long as he could before making his bid for freedom; too early, and the Seraphs would see his efforts and lunge forward to restrain him once more.
The fire would have to burn high, and already he could smell his wings beginning to smolder.
Seconds passed like hours, and the heat built. Finally, he could wait no longer; to do so would damage his wings beyond repair, and he’d have no strength to get aloft. The smoke and glare would have to be enough. With a roar, Rei snapped his wings back against the stone, straining with muscles that had fought him through storm winds. His wrists ground against the manacles that restrained them, crushing and tearing at his flesh.
And for just a moment, he thought it might be enough…
And then he fell back against the stone, nerves screaming in pain, as the chains held. It was too much, and he was too weak. Too many long months trapped in the dark confines of that underground room. Those chains, too strong for mortal strength to break.
The truesilver made him mortal, no more a Reaper, and now he would die as such. From somewhere beyond the flames, he could hear Katherine’s laughter ringing with triumph.
The fire was building to a roar, and he never heard the sound of those running feet until magic surged back through his veins and a familiar voice—strained now, and so afraid—yelled, “Rei, go!”
Robin.
No.
There was no time to think about the enormity of what the Seraph boy had done, only time to act. His wrists were free, and Rei could once more feel the power of the Reaper in his body as he sprang upright. All around, he could hear shouting, screams of fear and of outrage. Blades were drawn, and as white-clad forms came charging into the fire he leapt atop the altar. Robin was standing there beside him, heavy chains grasped in his small hands. The boy’s face was pale, turned upwards to the winged form that towered over him, and for just a moment there was fear in his eyes…
…And then from behind, movement. A Seraph—the scar-faced woman who had brought Rei to the courtyard—was lunging forward, and her blade was aimed not at the Reaper, but instead at the child who stood with his back to her.
Without thinking, the Reaper reached down and swept Robin up onto the altar, standing over the boy. The Red Blade materialized in his hand; it seemed like so long since he’d held it, and a fierce hunger welled within him as he saw hesitation in the attacking Seraph’s face. It was too late for her, though; she’d come within his reach, and Rei slammed her from the side with a buffeting wing before slashing a deep wound into her arm. She screamed, and he cut her down.
The fate lines swirled around the altar like a maelstrom. So much death.
And yet, this was a fight he would not win. There were too many Seraphs, here in the seat of their power, and it would be a fool’s move to ignore that; still, the sky beckoned. There was a chance, and now he had Robin…
He could, and had to, take the boy with him. There was no place left in this court of death for a boy who’d shown himself as traitor to the Seraphs, and they’d surely kill him if the opportunity arose. Rei had no intent to let it.
Arching his wings over them as a momentary protection, Rei caught Robin up in his arms and stretched out with his mind…
To be sure, it would not be a peaceful end. He would not go meekly to the slaughter; if he was to die this day, his body would fall amidst a sea of his dead foes. There was no alternative, no other way… and yet, for just a moment, Rei regretted it. And the danger of that thought was enough to make him frown.
Regret for Seraphs? He knew all too well what the demon-blooded killers were capable of; the less of their kind walked the earth, the better. It was the boy, bringing these doubts into his head, and once again Rei cursed his decision to speak on that first day he’d heard another heartbeat on the far side of that truesilver-etched door.
Robin. So hard not to think of him by name, now that it was revealed. Robin… a child, only a child, and one who seemed ill-suited to his blood inheritance. Innocent.
It seemed a poor sort of honor, to repay that child’s company with the bodies of his family. And yet, there was no other way. This day would end only in blood.
The door grated open, cutting short his inner monologue, and Rei squinted into the dim light that poured into his prison. The shadowy figures on the far side carried only glowstones, yet the meager illumination was dazzling to eyes that had seen only darkness for months.
“Reaper.”
“Seraph.” Though his entire body thrummed with adrenaline, he forced his voice to a dead calm. “It is time, then?”
In response, one of the Seraphs lashed a hand forwards. Rei had been expecting an attack, was already in motion, and then everything exploded into light. He cried out, stumbled, his eyes a mass of pain, and felt wire-thin cords tighten around his limbs. A sensation of bitter cold, one that he knew all to well from the days he’d lingered near the door to speak with Robin. Truesilver.
Well and truly bound, the magic in his blood out of reach, Rei slumped to the ground. The cords of truesilver slid across his wings, and the pain was enough to bring him to his feet once more. Panting softly behind his mask, he raised his eyes to his captors with any lingering doubts washed away by hatred.
As he approached, the Seraphs became more clear. A man whose face was twisted into a cruel smile held the other end of those magical restraints in one hand; the other held a dagger trained on Rei. To the other side of the hallway, a woman with a deeply creased scar down the side of her face scowled in his direction; it was likely that Rei himself had left that scar, though he did not remember it. A handful of others, more faces he did not recall though he’d likely faced them all in battle. But the Reaper spared them hardly a glance, his golden eyes focusing instead on the Seraph who stood at the center of the cluster. She looked back at him coolly, red hair cascading over her shoulders and reaching almost to the red sash that marked her as Huntlord.
Katherine. The leader of the Seraphs, and thus, his most bitter enemy.
She nodded to him as he approached. “Tell me, Reaper, how does it feel to know that you will be the last of your line?”
“I would tell you if I knew, Seraph. Perhaps. However, I am not, and so I do not.”
“I admire your self-assurance.” Turning her back to him—and how Rei’s blood burned, with his enemy so close and yet utterly unreachable—Katherine beckoned to her flock. They fell in around him, a circle of pointed blades that scraped painful furrows across his clothing and skin. It was in such a way that they brought him up that long hallway and out into the courtyard.
It was night, and yet the light was still almost too much for Rei’s eyes to manage. He squinted from below his mask, taking in the circle of flames that surrounded him; Seraphs lined the courtyard in a silent circle, armed, watching him with varying levels of hatred. The whole clan must have been assembled, for children were mixed among that circle, and he couldn’t help but search those faces, looking for Robin.
Of course, how could he? He’d never seen the boy’s face, only heard his voice… and yet, when his eyes fell upon a Seraph child at the far side of the circle, he knew. The boy’s eyes met his without fear, and there was despair in their gaze. Rei let his eyes shift,as much as he could manage while bound by the truesilver, and faintly saw the fate lines winding thick between them. It was Robin.
So small. He hadn’t known; though he’d understood that the Seraph was a child, this boy couldn’t have been more than ten, if that. A slight build, brown hair in need of a good trim that hung in wisps in the boy’s eyes, billowing robes clearly too big for him and likely borrowed for the occasion…
He’d gone to such lengths to keep the child at arm’s length, had spent months refusing to think of him with a name, with a face, and yet just this one glance was enough to sweep it all away. Those months of kindness, of companionship had taken their toll, and without even trying, the Seraphs had crippled his defenses. If Robin came between Rei and freedom, there could be no escape worth the price he would have to pay.
A part of him wished the truesilver gone, so that he could at least reach out with his mind to say a final farewell. And yet he knew that, even if he could, it would be no mercy. Robin had befriended him; he might well grow into adulthood thinking the Reaper was no enemy. And while the thought stirred hope in Rei’s heart, a pale, tentative hope that perhaps this Seraph could change… he also knew all too well it would likely lead to a swift death at the hands of the next Reaper.
The best defense he could give the child was to become the beast they expected. To rain blood from the skies. It would be betraying that small friendship they’d found… but it would keep Robin safe. As safe as he could make him.
And then there was no time to think; they were dragging him to a smooth stone altar at the center of the courtyard. Polished stone, white marble carved into intricate, twisting patterns of serpents and flames. And chains. Most notably, chains, set into either side.
They took him to the altar, and chained him down, and then slowly backed away. The wires of truesilver unwound from about him, but it was no help; the chains had also been worked with truesilver, and held him just as helplessly. Twisting his head to the side, Rei watched as Katherine stalked slowly forward until she stood before him, and then turned to address the Seraphs.
“My family, the hour of our triumph is at hand!”
The cheers, so filled with bloodlust, sickened him, and Rei tuned her out and instead cast his gaze about in an attempt to find anything that might give him a chance. The chains that bound him were strong, too strong to snap without the aid of the magical strength that he could not reach. Still, though… the truesilver had not affected his wings, which he could otherwise manifest or retract. Perhaps the substance had simply locked him in his current form, and if that was the case, then he could still rely on the wings. And they were powerful in their own right… perhaps powerful enough to break his chains. Rei shuddered at the thought of what such an action might do to less durable parts of his body—such as the arms the chains were locked to—but concentrated solely on what he had to gain. Freedom.
Keeping his wings still, for the moment, he turned his gaze instead to the courtyard and began to inspect it with new interest. Fortunate for him that they held their ceremonies under the open sky; if he succeeded in freeing himself, he would have a distinct advantage over his foes, who flew through magic rather than instinct. They would not keep pace with him in the air, his natural domain; Rei was sure of it. He’d not been conscious when he was brought here, and so remained unaware of the surrounding terrain, but leafy treetops brushed the sky beyond the roofs of the Seraph home. Better and better; Rei knew his abilities, and knew he was agile enough to fly under tree cover if necessary.
If he could only get free, he might have a chance.
Still searching the area from what limited range of vision he had, he noticed with a start that Robin had disappeared. Rei was the only one who seemed to have noticed, for if the boy had been standing near his parents then they had apparently not noted his absence; the Seraphs were utterly fixated on their leader and seemed aware of nothing else. But to the Reaper, the disappearance of the one person in the courtyard that he could call friend was troubling. If he was to enact his escape, the situation could and likely would turn bloody rapidly. Not knowing where Robin was meant not knowing where to hold back his attacks.
He scanned the crowd frantically, but the brown-haired Seraph child had vanished, and now Katherine was turning to him with glowing flame in her hands. “Nameless Reaper, hated enemy of our people, your days are done .Let your evil be cleansed by flame, let your legacy vanish as ash to the wind.” With one blazing hand, she reached out and ran a finger across the Reaper amulet on Rei’s chest; though his clothes were manifested of shadow and would not burn, he couldn’t help but feel the pain of the heat and gave a muffled exclamation. Katherine grinned down at him, then abruptly spun and walked away. The Reaper watched her go in confusion… until he saw her bend down and trail a hand along the ground. Flames surged upwards, and he realized the floor of the courtyard was slick with oil.
Truly, then, they meant to burn him.
It made sense. To the Seraphs, fire was a manifestation of the demon blood that lingered in their veins from the distant ancestor they mistakenly revered as a god. Giving a body—be it friend or enemy—to the flames condemned the soul to the realm of that ‘god’; whether the demon they called the Immortal Flame could truly steal those souls was a mystery, but Rei had no desire to find out firsthand. No matter where his soul might end up, his body would be just as dead. But it was too early to act now, and so he forced himself to lie still and calm as the flames licked ever closer. He had to wait as long as he could before making his bid for freedom; too early, and the Seraphs would see his efforts and lunge forward to restrain him once more.
The fire would have to burn high, and already he could smell his wings beginning to smolder.
Seconds passed like hours, and the heat built. Finally, he could wait no longer; to do so would damage his wings beyond repair, and he’d have no strength to get aloft. The smoke and glare would have to be enough. With a roar, Rei snapped his wings back against the stone, straining with muscles that had fought him through storm winds. His wrists ground against the manacles that restrained them, crushing and tearing at his flesh.
And for just a moment, he thought it might be enough…
And then he fell back against the stone, nerves screaming in pain, as the chains held. It was too much, and he was too weak. Too many long months trapped in the dark confines of that underground room. Those chains, too strong for mortal strength to break.
The truesilver made him mortal, no more a Reaper, and now he would die as such. From somewhere beyond the flames, he could hear Katherine’s laughter ringing with triumph.
The fire was building to a roar, and he never heard the sound of those running feet until magic surged back through his veins and a familiar voice—strained now, and so afraid—yelled, “Rei, go!”
Robin.
No.
There was no time to think about the enormity of what the Seraph boy had done, only time to act. His wrists were free, and Rei could once more feel the power of the Reaper in his body as he sprang upright. All around, he could hear shouting, screams of fear and of outrage. Blades were drawn, and as white-clad forms came charging into the fire he leapt atop the altar. Robin was standing there beside him, heavy chains grasped in his small hands. The boy’s face was pale, turned upwards to the winged form that towered over him, and for just a moment there was fear in his eyes…
…And then from behind, movement. A Seraph—the scar-faced woman who had brought Rei to the courtyard—was lunging forward, and her blade was aimed not at the Reaper, but instead at the child who stood with his back to her.
Without thinking, the Reaper reached down and swept Robin up onto the altar, standing over the boy. The Red Blade materialized in his hand; it seemed like so long since he’d held it, and a fierce hunger welled within him as he saw hesitation in the attacking Seraph’s face. It was too late for her, though; she’d come within his reach, and Rei slammed her from the side with a buffeting wing before slashing a deep wound into her arm. She screamed, and he cut her down.
The fate lines swirled around the altar like a maelstrom. So much death.
And yet, this was a fight he would not win. There were too many Seraphs, here in the seat of their power, and it would be a fool’s move to ignore that; still, the sky beckoned. There was a chance, and now he had Robin…
He could, and had to, take the boy with him. There was no place left in this court of death for a boy who’d shown himself as traitor to the Seraphs, and they’d surely kill him if the opportunity arose. Rei had no intent to let it.
Arching his wings over them as a momentary protection, Rei caught Robin up in his arms and stretched out with his mind…
Robin.
Wha— Rei?
Yes.
How are you--
There is no time. Robin, there is no place for you here. Come with me.
A moment of hesitation, almost nonexistent in the normal flow of time but dragging within the exchange of thoughts.
I can’t, my family…
Though he regretted have to do it, Rei flashed the memory of the Seraph woman, lunging towards the boy. He felt Robin’s mind recoil slightly, and then a pang of almost unbearable hurt.
Mia? No, she wouldn’t--
No time, Robin. Please.
Al-alright…
Though he left their minds touching slightly, just enough for a basic flow of emotion, Rei withdrew until he was aware of the world around them once more. Time returned to its normal speed, and the Seraphs were rapidly approaching; too late. They would not catch him, not with his strength back.
He tensed, arched his wings to their full spread.
Do not be afraid.
There was a faint sense of trust through the bond, and despite himself Rei could not help but feel pride in the little Seraph. Where they would go from here, he did not know, but he would find a life more fitting for this child who had freed him.
With a mighty downsweep of wings, the world fell away, and the Seraphs were looking up at him as he raced into the air…
Suddenly, a blinding pain seemed to split his world in two, and Rei nearly fell from the sky in shock. It was as though he was on fire, white-hot agony that raced over his skin and lit him from within. A voice that was not his own was screaming--
It was then that he looked down into Robin’s wide eyes and saw the arrow that had driven straight through the child’s back.
NO!
Wha— Rei?
Yes.
How are you--
There is no time. Robin, there is no place for you here. Come with me.
A moment of hesitation, almost nonexistent in the normal flow of time but dragging within the exchange of thoughts.
I can’t, my family…
Though he regretted have to do it, Rei flashed the memory of the Seraph woman, lunging towards the boy. He felt Robin’s mind recoil slightly, and then a pang of almost unbearable hurt.
Mia? No, she wouldn’t--
No time, Robin. Please.
Al-alright…
Though he left their minds touching slightly, just enough for a basic flow of emotion, Rei withdrew until he was aware of the world around them once more. Time returned to its normal speed, and the Seraphs were rapidly approaching; too late. They would not catch him, not with his strength back.
He tensed, arched his wings to their full spread.
Do not be afraid.
There was a faint sense of trust through the bond, and despite himself Rei could not help but feel pride in the little Seraph. Where they would go from here, he did not know, but he would find a life more fitting for this child who had freed him.
With a mighty downsweep of wings, the world fell away, and the Seraphs were looking up at him as he raced into the air…
Suddenly, a blinding pain seemed to split his world in two, and Rei nearly fell from the sky in shock. It was as though he was on fire, white-hot agony that raced over his skin and lit him from within. A voice that was not his own was screaming--
It was then that he looked down into Robin’s wide eyes and saw the arrow that had driven straight through the child’s back.
NO!
Fury and desperation powered his wingbeats now, and Rei streaked across the sky. If there had been any pursuit—and surely there had been—he had long since outdistanced them; an empty sky met his eyes when he spared a second to glance behind. He was not familiar with wherever they had brought him; the lands were strange, and no landmarks met his desperate eyes, no towns where they might seek refuge. Truth be told, though, he was not looking with more than the edges of his vision. All he could see, it seemed, were the lines of life and fate that rapidly unraveled around the child in his arms. Consumed as though by fire.
Robin was still alive; that much, he could feel still. Their minds were still linked, though he could sense only a blur of incoherent agony through that bond. At last, he could take it no longer; the Reaper dove from the sky for a small clearing that opened in the treeline ahead. He couldn’t lay the child on the ground, not with the arrow that sprouted from his back, but he sat crouched, balancing Robin across his legs.
The arrow had driven clear through Robin’s chest; there was a bloom of crimson rapidly spreading. Too much blood. With steady hands, practiced hands, Rei snapped the arrowhead from the shaft and carefully drew the arrow back out. Robin shuddered at that, coughed wetly.
Hold on, Robin. Hold…
The Red Blade was in Rei’s hand again, and he sliced a line down his arm without flinching. He’d healed with his own blood before; there was a powerful magic to it. Maybe enough to save the child. And indeed, as the golden drops fell into Robin’s wound, the skin merged back together. But the lines woven about him were still dying…
Desperate, Rei dove back into the bond, pushing for time.
Can you hear me?
Agony. Waves of it threatened to push him out, to overwhelm his own mind, and yet he hung on.
Robin! Answer me!
…Rei? Hurts…
I know it hurts, little Seraph. Be brave. You must fight it a while longer.
Tired…
There was so much confusion in that mental voice, and Rei felt shame. He was the reason this child was dying. If he’d not come to the house of the Seraphs…
Then what? He’d been taken there against his will. And if he and Robin had not met on opposite sides of that door, then they would one day have met on opposite sides of the battlefield. He’d not waste what might be his last chance to speak with this Seraph with purposeless guilt.
I am sorry, little Seraph. I never wanted this.
…It’s alright… Couldn’t… let them…
It was too late. The last threads were unraveling around Robin; Rei had seen it too many times to not sense death’s approach.
I am so sorry.
There was a surge of emotion through the link between their minds, too unformed to be called speech. For just a moment, Rei’s mind was bathed in Robin’s memories. He felt the cool wood of the door from the other side, heard his own voice. Fear, which turned to curiosity, which turned to a small and shy affection.
Rei had become Reaper at the age of seventeen, too young to have made a life for himself beyond his calling to the gods. For the most part, he had lost himself in duty, but at times he’d wondered what another life would have been like. To have a family. To have a child.
For just a moment, touching Robin’s mind, he felt as though he’d found a son.
Glad… you got away… Rei.
You gave me the chance. It should not have been like this.
…Can I…
What is it?
…Your face?...
Rei could see himself for a moment, a masked face looking down, bright golden eyes shining out of shadow. He understood.
Yes.
It had been a very long time since he’d shown his face to anyone. Years. But carefully, trying not to jostle the dying child he held, the Reaper loosed the mask from his face and let it melt away into smoke and darkness. For just a moment, Robin managed a smile.
You’re not… a monster.
No, little Robin. Nor are you.
Robin was still alive; that much, he could feel still. Their minds were still linked, though he could sense only a blur of incoherent agony through that bond. At last, he could take it no longer; the Reaper dove from the sky for a small clearing that opened in the treeline ahead. He couldn’t lay the child on the ground, not with the arrow that sprouted from his back, but he sat crouched, balancing Robin across his legs.
The arrow had driven clear through Robin’s chest; there was a bloom of crimson rapidly spreading. Too much blood. With steady hands, practiced hands, Rei snapped the arrowhead from the shaft and carefully drew the arrow back out. Robin shuddered at that, coughed wetly.
Hold on, Robin. Hold…
The Red Blade was in Rei’s hand again, and he sliced a line down his arm without flinching. He’d healed with his own blood before; there was a powerful magic to it. Maybe enough to save the child. And indeed, as the golden drops fell into Robin’s wound, the skin merged back together. But the lines woven about him were still dying…
Desperate, Rei dove back into the bond, pushing for time.
Can you hear me?
Agony. Waves of it threatened to push him out, to overwhelm his own mind, and yet he hung on.
Robin! Answer me!
…Rei? Hurts…
I know it hurts, little Seraph. Be brave. You must fight it a while longer.
Tired…
There was so much confusion in that mental voice, and Rei felt shame. He was the reason this child was dying. If he’d not come to the house of the Seraphs…
Then what? He’d been taken there against his will. And if he and Robin had not met on opposite sides of that door, then they would one day have met on opposite sides of the battlefield. He’d not waste what might be his last chance to speak with this Seraph with purposeless guilt.
I am sorry, little Seraph. I never wanted this.
…It’s alright… Couldn’t… let them…
It was too late. The last threads were unraveling around Robin; Rei had seen it too many times to not sense death’s approach.
I am so sorry.
There was a surge of emotion through the link between their minds, too unformed to be called speech. For just a moment, Rei’s mind was bathed in Robin’s memories. He felt the cool wood of the door from the other side, heard his own voice. Fear, which turned to curiosity, which turned to a small and shy affection.
Rei had become Reaper at the age of seventeen, too young to have made a life for himself beyond his calling to the gods. For the most part, he had lost himself in duty, but at times he’d wondered what another life would have been like. To have a family. To have a child.
For just a moment, touching Robin’s mind, he felt as though he’d found a son.
Glad… you got away… Rei.
You gave me the chance. It should not have been like this.
…Can I…
What is it?
…Your face?...
Rei could see himself for a moment, a masked face looking down, bright golden eyes shining out of shadow. He understood.
Yes.
It had been a very long time since he’d shown his face to anyone. Years. But carefully, trying not to jostle the dying child he held, the Reaper loosed the mask from his face and let it melt away into smoke and darkness. For just a moment, Robin managed a smile.
You’re not… a monster.
No, little Robin. Nor are you.
Robin could hardly feel his body anymore. It was strange, but not unwelcome… he’d felt little but pain since the arrow had hit him. But whatever Rei had done had eased the pain; now, he only felt numb.
He was dying. He knew it, although he’d had little experience with death in his life. Strange; he’d always wanted to die like… like a Seraph. But after what had happened… Maybe this wasn’t so bad. Rei wouldn’t die. He hadn’t wanted that.
The vastness of the Reaper’s mind surrounded him, cradled him. The connection had been jarring at first—the first touch of Rei’s mind had scared him witless—but it felt more natural now. Maybe everything was easier when you were dying. But to hear echoes of other thoughts… it was so strange. Rei’s mind was so different. Alien, but there was no hostility. Instead, there was a fondness to those thoughts. Pride. Sorrow.
He was glad of what he’d done. Whatever Rei truly was, he wasn’t the monster the Seraphs had called him.
I’m glad you got away, Rei.
Rei’s voice was in his mind again.
You gave me the chance. It should not have been like this.
What other way could it have been? Robin had known, from the moment he saw those flames encircling the altar, that he couldn’t stand by and let the man he’d come to think of as a friend die. He’d known, as he ran into the fire and felt it part around him, that there was no turning back. He’d known it was the end of something.
The end…
He found the strength to open his eyes and looked up to see the Reaper crouched over him. How many times had he dreamed nightmares full of feathers and golden eyes and hungry, consuming darkness? And yet now the legend he’d been raised to kill was here with him, a comfort and a friend as he died. The gold eyes that looked down from behind the bone mask were filled with a mix of anger and pain.
Feeling his strength fading more rapidly, the boy tried to push out towards Rei’s mind again. Immediately, the Reaper’s thoughts were there.
What is it?
Rei, can I see your face?...
He felt the understanding in that vast mind.
Yes.
As Robin watched, the edges of his vision beginning to go dark, Rei reached up with a hand and pulled away the skull that covered his face. And underneath, he was…
A man. Just a man. Though his eyes still burned with gold fire, luminous in the dark, they were set in a human face. There were age lines under those eyes, a faint scar across the bridge of his nose. Dark hair, starting to turn the silver of age, was chopped short around that ancient face.
He looked no different from any of Robin’s own family. No more monstrous. No more of a nightmare. Just a tired and sorrow-scarred man.
There were lines around Rei’s mouth. He’d smiled more often, once.
Even as that face above him began to fade, Robin managed a smile.
You’re not a monster.
That brought a sad smile to the Reaper’s face as well.
No, little Robin. Neither are you.
Rei?
Yes?
I’m… tired…
For just a moment, as the dark closed in, he felt the arms around him tighten and wrap him in a warm embrace.
You can rest now, little one. I will show you the way…
And then, nothing.
He was dying. He knew it, although he’d had little experience with death in his life. Strange; he’d always wanted to die like… like a Seraph. But after what had happened… Maybe this wasn’t so bad. Rei wouldn’t die. He hadn’t wanted that.
The vastness of the Reaper’s mind surrounded him, cradled him. The connection had been jarring at first—the first touch of Rei’s mind had scared him witless—but it felt more natural now. Maybe everything was easier when you were dying. But to hear echoes of other thoughts… it was so strange. Rei’s mind was so different. Alien, but there was no hostility. Instead, there was a fondness to those thoughts. Pride. Sorrow.
He was glad of what he’d done. Whatever Rei truly was, he wasn’t the monster the Seraphs had called him.
I’m glad you got away, Rei.
Rei’s voice was in his mind again.
You gave me the chance. It should not have been like this.
What other way could it have been? Robin had known, from the moment he saw those flames encircling the altar, that he couldn’t stand by and let the man he’d come to think of as a friend die. He’d known, as he ran into the fire and felt it part around him, that there was no turning back. He’d known it was the end of something.
The end…
He found the strength to open his eyes and looked up to see the Reaper crouched over him. How many times had he dreamed nightmares full of feathers and golden eyes and hungry, consuming darkness? And yet now the legend he’d been raised to kill was here with him, a comfort and a friend as he died. The gold eyes that looked down from behind the bone mask were filled with a mix of anger and pain.
Feeling his strength fading more rapidly, the boy tried to push out towards Rei’s mind again. Immediately, the Reaper’s thoughts were there.
What is it?
Rei, can I see your face?...
He felt the understanding in that vast mind.
Yes.
As Robin watched, the edges of his vision beginning to go dark, Rei reached up with a hand and pulled away the skull that covered his face. And underneath, he was…
A man. Just a man. Though his eyes still burned with gold fire, luminous in the dark, they were set in a human face. There were age lines under those eyes, a faint scar across the bridge of his nose. Dark hair, starting to turn the silver of age, was chopped short around that ancient face.
He looked no different from any of Robin’s own family. No more monstrous. No more of a nightmare. Just a tired and sorrow-scarred man.
There were lines around Rei’s mouth. He’d smiled more often, once.
Even as that face above him began to fade, Robin managed a smile.
You’re not a monster.
That brought a sad smile to the Reaper’s face as well.
No, little Robin. Neither are you.
Rei?
Yes?
I’m… tired…
For just a moment, as the dark closed in, he felt the arms around him tighten and wrap him in a warm embrace.
You can rest now, little one. I will show you the way…
And then, nothing.
The sky was beginning to grow light in the east as Rei saw the last of the Seraph child’s lifeforce fade to dark, and he finally laid the cooling body on the ground.
He’d wandered as far into death as he dared, following the last traces of Robin; though it had been a risk, he was certain that Siarus had taken notice. The Death God would guide the child’s spirit the rest of the way to whatever came after, and it was enough. After all that had happened, Rei could not have borne the though of Robin’s soul falling prey to the demon of the Seraphs. This one had been different. He deserved peace.
Gently, he closed eyes turned sightless and stood, feeling the pain of muscles left still too long. Daybreak would be here soon, and he needed to move; the Seraphs would be bold enough, here in the heart of their domain, to pursue him under the sun’s light.
Into the shadows, then, while they still remained.
But what of the child? Rei would not leave him, not to rot alone in a clearing. No, he would put him far beyond the reach of any Seraph. Darkmere. The stronghold city. The elves would be outraged, but they would not challenge him; not the Reaper, who’d fought at their side time and again.
Bending down, he lifted Robin’s body. How light he seemed, in death; it was as though everything within had dispersed on the wind and left him hollow. Once more, Rei was struck by how young the boy had been. He should have lived, should have had a chance to grow and see the world and raise a family to share his innocence and selflessness.
Head bowed, Rei called the shadows and felt a whirlwind of darkness rise around him, stirring the grasses of the clearing. And then he stepped into Shadow, and all went silent.
Once, long years ago now, the otherworldly fell of the Shadow of the World had unnerved him, but decades of experience had taught him better. This was a land where time stood still; the domain of Lore, the lord of Time itself. As a servant of the god, Rei was as welcome as any could be in this land of cold stillness. His eyes could see in the dim, watery light, and he cast around for anything familiar.
Though the Seraphs had taken him miles from where they’d captured him, the Worldshadow measured distance differently, and he saw the familiar silhouette of mountains he knew against the horizon. He could travel miles in a heartbeat here, and be long gone from the clearing where Robin had died before the sun broke over that same bloody ground. Lifting into the air with steady wings—even the air here felt different, with no sun to raise the thermals—he set his gaze on a distinctive peak and plunged into the darkness.
He could have flown for a moment or a day without knowing it, but soon the mountain drew near. Faint lights became visible, on the edges of the peak; many of the hidden dimensions that held the ancient lands lay near this edge of the shadow, and Lore’s servants were likely to dwell on the mountain’s sides. As Rei lightly touched down, he could see some of them watching him; stern-faced men and elves turned pale by the darkness they lived in. He nodded in respect, as one servant of Lore to another, and a few bowed back, but kept their distance. His interest only passing, the Reaper closed his eyes and stepped back across the boundary that bridged the worlds.
These woods he emerged into were familiar, once his squinting eyes adjusted to the glare. He’d spent enough time around Darkmere and the other great elven strongholds to recognize the grace of the trees that surrounded him, plant life that grew in a harmonious mix of nature and subtle magic. Here, at least, there would be no fear of pursuit. Though one would never see them, these lands would be thick with ever-vigilant elven guards. It was rare indeed that Seraphs—or any enemy—would assault such a heavily defended target.
With no patience for roads, he found a spot to take flight once more and wheeled in the early morning sun as he cast about for his course. Darkmere was not far ahead; graceful rooftops shone in the sun where they lifted above the canopy. From where he flew, Rei could see the sheer cliff of stone that backed the city, and the concentric rings that marked the Royal Palace. That, then, would be his destination. Though all of this land was safe, hallowed, and beyond the reach of danger, he wanted something more for Robin.
As he passed over the city, he saw guards marking his flight, but no shots were fired. That was well enough; his wings were distinctive enough that he’d not expected opposition, and he reached the upper terraces of the palace without incident. Almost immediately, a pair of wiry Palace Guard appeared to meet him.
One of them bowed deeply. “Lord Reaper.”
“I have need to speak with the king.”
“He will be informed, Lord.” She straightened, and it was as if only then she caught sight of the bloody burden in his arms. “That is… Lord Reaper, you bring a Seraph here?” The elven woman’s eyes were on his face, an edge of alarm in their green depths. Though Rei knew she did not mean it, her weight shifted defensively onto her back foot. The other guard behind her also tensed.
“A dead Seraph,” Rei replied while keeping his voice as toneless as he could make it. “It is a matter for the king.”
The guard bowed again. “As you wish, Lord.” She made a signal to the other guard, and he quickly departed for a door across the terrace. When he had disappeared, the woman turned back to Rei. “Is there anything you wish for as you wait?”
“No. Only a moment’s peace. I have much on my mind this day.”
She respectfully drew back a ways, and Rei was left to his own thoughts. Once again, he considered the wisdom of this plan. Though the elves of Darkmere had respect for his line, the Seraphs were their enemies and the enemies of all those who dwelt in the Hidden Lands. Would they truly allow him to bury a Seraph child where he planned to? Was his reputation great enough to make this come to pass?
Yes, he finally decided. It had to be. Other heroes had been buried on the shores of the Darkmere itself before, and Robin had died a hero. Besides, there was a rightness to it that seemed more than just chance. Silently, he opened his mind, asking Alarand for a sign that this was right. Though no words came in response, there was something there. He could feel the god’s presence, and that was enough.
A whisper of feet on stone; the other guard had returned. “Lord Reaper. The king awaits you."
With a nod, Rei stepped forward, and the guards fell in before and behind him. In another place, another citadel, he might have thought it a threat, but in Darkmere he understood it as an honor guard and nothing more. And so it was that they made their way down into the halls of the Palace, the Reaper with his wings arched about himself to shield Robin’s body from view. There was no need to display him for every gaping passerby.
To his surprise, the guards did not take him to the main audience hall where the king usually held court. Instead, they followed a winding series of passageways he’d not travelled before, finally ending at a door carved of pale wood. “The king awaits you, Lord.”
Nodding his thanks, Rei shifted so that he could free one hand to open the door, and walked out into a small hollow of greenery. There were flowering trees clustered close about, their white petals like snow; above, taller trees formed a green canopy with their thick leaves. A trickle of water wound through the garden somewhere; he could smell the freshness in the air and see it in the thick moss and grasses that coated the ground.
A path of smooth stone led forward, and Rei walked for a moment or two until he could make out the form of a tall elf ahead among the trees. He bowed his head slightly. “Lord Anariel. I am sorry for the brief notice.”
The king turned slightly; he looked older than Rei remembered him, though the elf would likely outlive the Reaper by a century or more. Still, his gold-flecked green eyes were as wise and alert as Rei recalled, and he seemed to bear the thin circle of gold on his brow with ease as he nodded his respect in return. “It has been long years since last you came to my court, Lord Reaper. But you are welcome, as always.”
“And for that, you have my thanks.”
“And you mine, for arriving in such a way to avoid a panic.” Anariel faced him now, beckoned him closer. “Why do you bring a dead Seraph to my lands, Nameless?”
“To ask your permission. This child was a Seraph, but he was not like his kin. I wish to bury him far beyond their reach.”
“There are a thousand mountaintops that are yours alone. Why bring him to Darkmere?”
“Because I wish to bury him in the cavern of the Darkmere itself.”
For the first time, the king’s eyes narrowed, and Rei saw a brief flash of outrage quickly subdued. “You ask much, Lord Reaper, to bury a Seraph along the most honored of our ancestors.”
“The child died a hero, Lord, and I would see him honored as such.” Rei’s eyes flared. “He was killed in my defense, and I owe him both my freedom and my life. What better proof may I offer that he was not a Seraph at heart?” When the king paused, he continued. “If it is too much to ask that he be remembered, let me lay him in an unmarked grave, in secret. But do not deny him the honor he earned.”
There was a long silence in the wake of his words, and the soft sound of the wind among leaves filled the clearing. Rei stayed silent, aware of what he was asking, but remained defiant. He would see this through.
At last, Anariel sighed softly. “If it is your will, and the Fate Lord’s will also. I will not forget what our people owe to the Reaper. But I must ask that it be done in silence and secrecy. Not all those who dwell within this city would accept a Seraph on our most hallowed ground; they must never know.”
“It is enough. I thank you.”
The elven king circled around him, beckoned. “Come. It is early yet, and the Palace is only beginning to stir. Unless you would have him laid to rest at midnight, now is the time.”
Silent, Rei followed. The guards inside visibly started as Anariel explained in a low voice, but they bowed their heads and did not argue with the king before heading in two separate directions. By the time Anariel and Rei had made their way through ever-deeper passages of the palace to a tall stone door, their escort had reappeared with shovels. Both they and the Reaper watched wordlessly as the king stepped up and laid his hands on the door; though he could not hear the words Anariel spoke, Rei could feel ancient magic awakening in the stone around them. He watched with interest as a dull glow of silvery light surged in the doors, and they swung wide to reveal only darkness within.
The doors shut behind them as they entered, and the smooth stone of the hallway was replaced with rougher, unworked slate. As they walked in pitch blackness, a soft radiance began to grow in front of them; far ahead, almost a hundred feet from where they’d entered, a lake of still water was beginning to come alive with light. It lit up the cavern they stood in, and once again Rei was forced to appreciate the enormity of the place.
This was the Cavern of the Darkmere, the heart of the city, and a place of ancient and powerful magic. A sacred place, and normally one visited only by the ruling king or queen of the city; it was from here that the magic in the land could be awakened. In times of war, it had been used to raise the city itself to an unreachable plateau a several hundred feet in the air. It was here that the heroes of the elves were laid to rest. Rei had been here only once before, and had not thought to do so again.
As they approached the lake, the stone slowly became a soft, loamy soil covered in moss and even pale grass, sustained somehow not by the sun but by the lake itself. It was here that Anariel halted. “Do what you must, Lord Reaper.”
Though he’d wished for a spot closer to the pale light of the lake, the Reaper understood that this was enough. He’d already asked much of the elves. When the guards stepped forward with shovels, however, he waved them aside. “No. This death is my debt. I must dig this grave.”
It was slow going. Though the ground underfoot was loamy enough on the surface, it quickly turned to rock beneath, and Rei soon found himself loosing controlled blasts of power to shatter the stone. At last, though, it was deep enough.
Such a cold hole in the ground for so small a child.
He knelt, picked up Robin’s body to place him in the grave, and then halted. No. He couldn’t just… After a moment’s though, the Reaper removed the cloak he wore and wrapped the child in it. It was colder in the cavern without that insulating layer, but the act eased something in his heart as he gently, so gently, placed the child down into the grave.
“My thanks, Robin, for giving me my life. Be at peace.”
Though he’d only whispered the words, Rei looked up and realized that Anariel had knelt beside him. There was an understanding on the elven king’s face that he had not expected. “Let me help.”
There was nothing to say to that; the offer was too surprising, and so he could only nod. Between the two of them, king and Reaper, the grave took only moments to fill, and then it was done. The only sign that the spot was something more than simple dirt was the scar it had left in the moss, and in time, that too would fade.
Rei found himself simply staring at the disturbed earth, and was surprised by himself. He’d lived for almost a century now, and the life of a Reaper was not a quiet one; he’d killed so many, seen so many allies fall at his side. And yet, somehow, this was different. Maybe it had been Robin’s youth, maybe how different he’d been from anything Rei could have expected… Maybe because he’d thought of him as a friend, at the last.
It had been a very long time since he’d let anyone come close enough to him for that.
But there was no sense in living among memories of the dead, and so he hardened his heart and stepped away.
“You have done me honor by allowing this, Lord Anariel. You have the thanks of the Reaper.”
“As you and yours have had our thanks, time and again.” They walked away from the grave together, with the guards close behind, and Rei at last felt the pain begin to lift. He had done all he could; now, at least, Robin’s memory would be safe. As they walked, Anariel remarked, “The last time I saw you bare-faced, Lord Reaper, you were little more than a child. It is strange to see you unmasked.”
“I did not come here this day as the Reaper. Only as Rei.”
The elf shook his head. “It is strange to think of you as anything else.”
“I stand here now only because a Seraph was something more than a Seraph. Perhaps it is best that I remember who I am beneath my mask.”
He’d wandered as far into death as he dared, following the last traces of Robin; though it had been a risk, he was certain that Siarus had taken notice. The Death God would guide the child’s spirit the rest of the way to whatever came after, and it was enough. After all that had happened, Rei could not have borne the though of Robin’s soul falling prey to the demon of the Seraphs. This one had been different. He deserved peace.
Gently, he closed eyes turned sightless and stood, feeling the pain of muscles left still too long. Daybreak would be here soon, and he needed to move; the Seraphs would be bold enough, here in the heart of their domain, to pursue him under the sun’s light.
Into the shadows, then, while they still remained.
But what of the child? Rei would not leave him, not to rot alone in a clearing. No, he would put him far beyond the reach of any Seraph. Darkmere. The stronghold city. The elves would be outraged, but they would not challenge him; not the Reaper, who’d fought at their side time and again.
Bending down, he lifted Robin’s body. How light he seemed, in death; it was as though everything within had dispersed on the wind and left him hollow. Once more, Rei was struck by how young the boy had been. He should have lived, should have had a chance to grow and see the world and raise a family to share his innocence and selflessness.
Head bowed, Rei called the shadows and felt a whirlwind of darkness rise around him, stirring the grasses of the clearing. And then he stepped into Shadow, and all went silent.
Once, long years ago now, the otherworldly fell of the Shadow of the World had unnerved him, but decades of experience had taught him better. This was a land where time stood still; the domain of Lore, the lord of Time itself. As a servant of the god, Rei was as welcome as any could be in this land of cold stillness. His eyes could see in the dim, watery light, and he cast around for anything familiar.
Though the Seraphs had taken him miles from where they’d captured him, the Worldshadow measured distance differently, and he saw the familiar silhouette of mountains he knew against the horizon. He could travel miles in a heartbeat here, and be long gone from the clearing where Robin had died before the sun broke over that same bloody ground. Lifting into the air with steady wings—even the air here felt different, with no sun to raise the thermals—he set his gaze on a distinctive peak and plunged into the darkness.
He could have flown for a moment or a day without knowing it, but soon the mountain drew near. Faint lights became visible, on the edges of the peak; many of the hidden dimensions that held the ancient lands lay near this edge of the shadow, and Lore’s servants were likely to dwell on the mountain’s sides. As Rei lightly touched down, he could see some of them watching him; stern-faced men and elves turned pale by the darkness they lived in. He nodded in respect, as one servant of Lore to another, and a few bowed back, but kept their distance. His interest only passing, the Reaper closed his eyes and stepped back across the boundary that bridged the worlds.
These woods he emerged into were familiar, once his squinting eyes adjusted to the glare. He’d spent enough time around Darkmere and the other great elven strongholds to recognize the grace of the trees that surrounded him, plant life that grew in a harmonious mix of nature and subtle magic. Here, at least, there would be no fear of pursuit. Though one would never see them, these lands would be thick with ever-vigilant elven guards. It was rare indeed that Seraphs—or any enemy—would assault such a heavily defended target.
With no patience for roads, he found a spot to take flight once more and wheeled in the early morning sun as he cast about for his course. Darkmere was not far ahead; graceful rooftops shone in the sun where they lifted above the canopy. From where he flew, Rei could see the sheer cliff of stone that backed the city, and the concentric rings that marked the Royal Palace. That, then, would be his destination. Though all of this land was safe, hallowed, and beyond the reach of danger, he wanted something more for Robin.
As he passed over the city, he saw guards marking his flight, but no shots were fired. That was well enough; his wings were distinctive enough that he’d not expected opposition, and he reached the upper terraces of the palace without incident. Almost immediately, a pair of wiry Palace Guard appeared to meet him.
One of them bowed deeply. “Lord Reaper.”
“I have need to speak with the king.”
“He will be informed, Lord.” She straightened, and it was as if only then she caught sight of the bloody burden in his arms. “That is… Lord Reaper, you bring a Seraph here?” The elven woman’s eyes were on his face, an edge of alarm in their green depths. Though Rei knew she did not mean it, her weight shifted defensively onto her back foot. The other guard behind her also tensed.
“A dead Seraph,” Rei replied while keeping his voice as toneless as he could make it. “It is a matter for the king.”
The guard bowed again. “As you wish, Lord.” She made a signal to the other guard, and he quickly departed for a door across the terrace. When he had disappeared, the woman turned back to Rei. “Is there anything you wish for as you wait?”
“No. Only a moment’s peace. I have much on my mind this day.”
She respectfully drew back a ways, and Rei was left to his own thoughts. Once again, he considered the wisdom of this plan. Though the elves of Darkmere had respect for his line, the Seraphs were their enemies and the enemies of all those who dwelt in the Hidden Lands. Would they truly allow him to bury a Seraph child where he planned to? Was his reputation great enough to make this come to pass?
Yes, he finally decided. It had to be. Other heroes had been buried on the shores of the Darkmere itself before, and Robin had died a hero. Besides, there was a rightness to it that seemed more than just chance. Silently, he opened his mind, asking Alarand for a sign that this was right. Though no words came in response, there was something there. He could feel the god’s presence, and that was enough.
A whisper of feet on stone; the other guard had returned. “Lord Reaper. The king awaits you."
With a nod, Rei stepped forward, and the guards fell in before and behind him. In another place, another citadel, he might have thought it a threat, but in Darkmere he understood it as an honor guard and nothing more. And so it was that they made their way down into the halls of the Palace, the Reaper with his wings arched about himself to shield Robin’s body from view. There was no need to display him for every gaping passerby.
To his surprise, the guards did not take him to the main audience hall where the king usually held court. Instead, they followed a winding series of passageways he’d not travelled before, finally ending at a door carved of pale wood. “The king awaits you, Lord.”
Nodding his thanks, Rei shifted so that he could free one hand to open the door, and walked out into a small hollow of greenery. There were flowering trees clustered close about, their white petals like snow; above, taller trees formed a green canopy with their thick leaves. A trickle of water wound through the garden somewhere; he could smell the freshness in the air and see it in the thick moss and grasses that coated the ground.
A path of smooth stone led forward, and Rei walked for a moment or two until he could make out the form of a tall elf ahead among the trees. He bowed his head slightly. “Lord Anariel. I am sorry for the brief notice.”
The king turned slightly; he looked older than Rei remembered him, though the elf would likely outlive the Reaper by a century or more. Still, his gold-flecked green eyes were as wise and alert as Rei recalled, and he seemed to bear the thin circle of gold on his brow with ease as he nodded his respect in return. “It has been long years since last you came to my court, Lord Reaper. But you are welcome, as always.”
“And for that, you have my thanks.”
“And you mine, for arriving in such a way to avoid a panic.” Anariel faced him now, beckoned him closer. “Why do you bring a dead Seraph to my lands, Nameless?”
“To ask your permission. This child was a Seraph, but he was not like his kin. I wish to bury him far beyond their reach.”
“There are a thousand mountaintops that are yours alone. Why bring him to Darkmere?”
“Because I wish to bury him in the cavern of the Darkmere itself.”
For the first time, the king’s eyes narrowed, and Rei saw a brief flash of outrage quickly subdued. “You ask much, Lord Reaper, to bury a Seraph along the most honored of our ancestors.”
“The child died a hero, Lord, and I would see him honored as such.” Rei’s eyes flared. “He was killed in my defense, and I owe him both my freedom and my life. What better proof may I offer that he was not a Seraph at heart?” When the king paused, he continued. “If it is too much to ask that he be remembered, let me lay him in an unmarked grave, in secret. But do not deny him the honor he earned.”
There was a long silence in the wake of his words, and the soft sound of the wind among leaves filled the clearing. Rei stayed silent, aware of what he was asking, but remained defiant. He would see this through.
At last, Anariel sighed softly. “If it is your will, and the Fate Lord’s will also. I will not forget what our people owe to the Reaper. But I must ask that it be done in silence and secrecy. Not all those who dwell within this city would accept a Seraph on our most hallowed ground; they must never know.”
“It is enough. I thank you.”
The elven king circled around him, beckoned. “Come. It is early yet, and the Palace is only beginning to stir. Unless you would have him laid to rest at midnight, now is the time.”
Silent, Rei followed. The guards inside visibly started as Anariel explained in a low voice, but they bowed their heads and did not argue with the king before heading in two separate directions. By the time Anariel and Rei had made their way through ever-deeper passages of the palace to a tall stone door, their escort had reappeared with shovels. Both they and the Reaper watched wordlessly as the king stepped up and laid his hands on the door; though he could not hear the words Anariel spoke, Rei could feel ancient magic awakening in the stone around them. He watched with interest as a dull glow of silvery light surged in the doors, and they swung wide to reveal only darkness within.
The doors shut behind them as they entered, and the smooth stone of the hallway was replaced with rougher, unworked slate. As they walked in pitch blackness, a soft radiance began to grow in front of them; far ahead, almost a hundred feet from where they’d entered, a lake of still water was beginning to come alive with light. It lit up the cavern they stood in, and once again Rei was forced to appreciate the enormity of the place.
This was the Cavern of the Darkmere, the heart of the city, and a place of ancient and powerful magic. A sacred place, and normally one visited only by the ruling king or queen of the city; it was from here that the magic in the land could be awakened. In times of war, it had been used to raise the city itself to an unreachable plateau a several hundred feet in the air. It was here that the heroes of the elves were laid to rest. Rei had been here only once before, and had not thought to do so again.
As they approached the lake, the stone slowly became a soft, loamy soil covered in moss and even pale grass, sustained somehow not by the sun but by the lake itself. It was here that Anariel halted. “Do what you must, Lord Reaper.”
Though he’d wished for a spot closer to the pale light of the lake, the Reaper understood that this was enough. He’d already asked much of the elves. When the guards stepped forward with shovels, however, he waved them aside. “No. This death is my debt. I must dig this grave.”
It was slow going. Though the ground underfoot was loamy enough on the surface, it quickly turned to rock beneath, and Rei soon found himself loosing controlled blasts of power to shatter the stone. At last, though, it was deep enough.
Such a cold hole in the ground for so small a child.
He knelt, picked up Robin’s body to place him in the grave, and then halted. No. He couldn’t just… After a moment’s though, the Reaper removed the cloak he wore and wrapped the child in it. It was colder in the cavern without that insulating layer, but the act eased something in his heart as he gently, so gently, placed the child down into the grave.
“My thanks, Robin, for giving me my life. Be at peace.”
Though he’d only whispered the words, Rei looked up and realized that Anariel had knelt beside him. There was an understanding on the elven king’s face that he had not expected. “Let me help.”
There was nothing to say to that; the offer was too surprising, and so he could only nod. Between the two of them, king and Reaper, the grave took only moments to fill, and then it was done. The only sign that the spot was something more than simple dirt was the scar it had left in the moss, and in time, that too would fade.
Rei found himself simply staring at the disturbed earth, and was surprised by himself. He’d lived for almost a century now, and the life of a Reaper was not a quiet one; he’d killed so many, seen so many allies fall at his side. And yet, somehow, this was different. Maybe it had been Robin’s youth, maybe how different he’d been from anything Rei could have expected… Maybe because he’d thought of him as a friend, at the last.
It had been a very long time since he’d let anyone come close enough to him for that.
But there was no sense in living among memories of the dead, and so he hardened his heart and stepped away.
“You have done me honor by allowing this, Lord Anariel. You have the thanks of the Reaper.”
“As you and yours have had our thanks, time and again.” They walked away from the grave together, with the guards close behind, and Rei at last felt the pain begin to lift. He had done all he could; now, at least, Robin’s memory would be safe. As they walked, Anariel remarked, “The last time I saw you bare-faced, Lord Reaper, you were little more than a child. It is strange to see you unmasked.”
“I did not come here this day as the Reaper. Only as Rei.”
The elf shook his head. “It is strange to think of you as anything else.”
“I stand here now only because a Seraph was something more than a Seraph. Perhaps it is best that I remember who I am beneath my mask.”
His wings light on the evening winds, Rei let himself drift without purpose or direction as the roofs of the city fell away into the distance behind him.
He’d stayed in Darkmere for a time, trying to find a purpose to occupy his mind. Even the pull of fate had eased during the past week; it seemed Alarand was giving him some small kindness, and he was grateful for it. It would be too easy to lose himself in duty, and that duty would doubtless lead him to the Seraphs once more. And for the moment, it would be a joy to bathe the earth in their blood whether or not it cost him his life.
It would be a dishonorable thing to so quickly throw away this life so preciously bought.
But he’d seen to it that Robin would not be forgotten. In the time he’d spent wandering the Royal Palace, he’d ventured most often to the library, a room vast with the texts of forgotten scholars. He’d found a book there, a small and worn tome tucked at the far end of a high shelf, and had been surprised by what he’d found within; the accounts of past Reapers, written in their own hand. The Lion, the Raven, countless others… Even his own predecessor, the Cat, Kimia. He’d known her so briefly, and it was strangely comforting to read her words and know something more of her than the dead-eyed woman who’d given him what little knowledge she could before seeking her own bloody end.
It was there, in that book, that he’d written his own story; a cursory account of his own triumphs and defeats, the small ways in which he believed he’d left a mark upon the world. And it was there that he wrote of the Seraph child who’d saved his life against all odds and tradition.
Even if only in a small and forgotten book, Robin’s memory would live on, and perhaps some day another would know of him.
His conscience a little lighter—if by no means clear—Rei Arren, the Falcon Reaper, turned his face to the wind and flew into the gathering night.
He’d stayed in Darkmere for a time, trying to find a purpose to occupy his mind. Even the pull of fate had eased during the past week; it seemed Alarand was giving him some small kindness, and he was grateful for it. It would be too easy to lose himself in duty, and that duty would doubtless lead him to the Seraphs once more. And for the moment, it would be a joy to bathe the earth in their blood whether or not it cost him his life.
It would be a dishonorable thing to so quickly throw away this life so preciously bought.
But he’d seen to it that Robin would not be forgotten. In the time he’d spent wandering the Royal Palace, he’d ventured most often to the library, a room vast with the texts of forgotten scholars. He’d found a book there, a small and worn tome tucked at the far end of a high shelf, and had been surprised by what he’d found within; the accounts of past Reapers, written in their own hand. The Lion, the Raven, countless others… Even his own predecessor, the Cat, Kimia. He’d known her so briefly, and it was strangely comforting to read her words and know something more of her than the dead-eyed woman who’d given him what little knowledge she could before seeking her own bloody end.
It was there, in that book, that he’d written his own story; a cursory account of his own triumphs and defeats, the small ways in which he believed he’d left a mark upon the world. And it was there that he wrote of the Seraph child who’d saved his life against all odds and tradition.
Even if only in a small and forgotten book, Robin’s memory would live on, and perhaps some day another would know of him.
His conscience a little lighter—if by no means clear—Rei Arren, the Falcon Reaper, turned his face to the wind and flew into the gathering night.