by T. R. Briar
“It’s just a term I happen to like. You’re a specter that shifts between worlds and wanders among the damned while your body sleeps. I suppose you could call it something else if you want.”
“I have a name you know. It’s Rayne. Rayne Mercer.”
“Rayne, is it? All right.” Darrigan made rough scratching sound, as if he were clearing his throat. “Anyways, I’ve been watching you. It’s been amusing watching your terror every time you end up someplace new.”
“So this is funny to you?” Rayne laid flat on his back on the hard ground, staring at the black sky of the Abyss. “I don’t want to be damned! There’s got to be a mistake!”
“When people sin, they know deep down that they’ve done something wrong. It connects their soul to this place, and that connection grows deeper the graver the sin, as the person continues to dwell on what they’ve done. There is no true judgment, only a natural order that souls instinctively follow. When a mortal being dies, if their connection to this place is too strong, they come here, or we are sent to retrieve them, permanently removing them from the cycle of life and death. If you’re here, there’s a reason for it.”
Rayne tried to think, but nothing came to mind. “I’ve lost a lot of my memories. If I sinned, I wouldn’t even know what I did.”
“Some part of you must remember, or you wouldn’t be here.”
“So, can I escape this place? Can I redeem myself so I stop coming here?”
“Maybe. I’ve never seen it, but I usually don’t follow the affairs of Realm Wraiths.”
“And if I die, before I can redeem myself—?”
“I think you know the answer to that.”
Rayne began to stand up. Darrigan offered an arm for him to grab on to.
“It’s been an eternity since I’ve had someone to talk to,” the reaper mused. “Demons want nothing to do with each other, the damned lack the reasoning capacity for conversations, and most Realm Wraiths run from me screaming.”
“Well, myself and a few others thought about finding someone to give us some answers. I guess you found me first.”
“Ah yes, I’ve seen you meet with other Realm Wraiths. In fact, I just encountered that black-haired fellow, but he ran away when I approached him.”
“When was this?”
“Shortly before you arrived.”
“Oh really? Where was this? Can you take me to him?”
“I suppose I could. But then, what’s in it for me?”
“For you?” Rayne scratched his head. “I don’t really have anything I can give you. I doubt money would be of any use to you. Why can’t you just help me out?”
“I’m not a charity. I can’t just help you if I’m not getting something out of it.”
“Well, how about I just owe you a favor?”
Darrigan paused to think. “Acceptable. Very well, I’ll be your ferryman.” He reached out and Rayne saw for the first time something resembling clawed fingers wiggling from beneath the blades on his arms. He snatched Rayne up by the wrist, and once again the world shifted around him. Rayne grasped the sensation of passing through many places in the blink of an eye, as if they were everywhere and nowhere all at once. He closed his eyes for a moment, becoming used to this feeling, remembering it.
When Rayne opened his eyes, they stood on warm ground caked in blood. The rocks and trees all around him were drenched in entrails and bones. A foul, decaying stench filled his nostrils and he retched in disgust.
“This place is within the realms of Othgar, the glutton lord. He has a fondness for rotting things,” Darrigan spoke from beside him.
“So these places all have rulers? Is there some kind of government, dare I say?”
“Government? Not in a place like this, boy. The Abyss is presided over by the Abyss Lords. They are creatures far beyond demons. They’re the dark, twisted gods who create this existence, and rule over all demons. Each is master over a different part of the Abyss. They and the Abyss are intrinsically linked.”
“Demon gods—?” Rayne remembered the being he’d first encountered, that great eye, and the immense power emanating from it. Could that creature be one of these gods?
“Yes. They are beings best left unbothered. Get on their bad side, and they’ll swallow your soul without a moment’s thought, erasing your existence entirely. That is, if they’re feeling merciful. It won’t be quick if they’re not.”
“They eat souls?”
“Many powerful demons feed off the damned. They’ll feed off Realm Wraiths too, so you’d best be on your guard.”
“What about you?”
“Me? Yes I suppose they could eat me too, if they wanted. The strong feed on the weak here. And sometimes even on the strong.”
“No, I mean, do you eat souls too?”
“Oh. No, no, we reapers are powerful demons, but we do not feed on souls. We merely collect them.”
“I see. So you have no authority to harm me.”
“I never said that.”
Rayne glanced around the decaying landscape, but saw no sign of Gabriel. He wondered if he was still here, or if he’d moved on to another part of the Abyss. He cupped his hand around his mouth.
“Baines!” he screamed. “Baines, where are you?”
Darrigan flinched. “What are you doing?! Are you trying to alert the entire Abyss to our presence?”
“He found me last time because he heard me yelling. I thought it might work again.”
“Be more careful! What did I just warn you about?!”
“Sorry.”
Rayne walked forward, and a glob of some meat-like substance fell off the tree above him onto his shoulder, causing him to twitch. He brushed it off and kept moving. Fog formed at his feet as he walked, growing thicker and rising higher, until it swallowed his legs. He couldn’t see the ground anymore, but he felt the blood-soaked earth squishing between his toes.
“Is that him?” Darrigan asked. Rayne followed his pointed blade, and saw someone walking towards them.
“Baines!” he yelled. He heard Darrigan curse beside him. The figure ran down a red, pulsating hill in their direction, and Rayne recognized Gabriel’s face once he drew close enough.
“There you are!” Gabriel exclaimed, slapping a hand on Rayne’s shoulder. “You found me! I’ve been stuck in this rotting place all night. Kept running into all these monsters trying to kill me. I mean, I know we can’t really die here but still, it’s goddamn terrifying!”
“Monsters? You mean like this chap?” Rayne jerked a thumb behind him. For the first time, Gabriel noticed Darrigan standing there, and his face went ashen. His mouth opened in a ragged gasp and he scrambled backwards, tripping over his own two feet and falling back into the mist. Darrigan waved his arm to say hello.
“It’s all right,” Rayne reassured him, reaching down to help Gabriel back on his feet. “I met him a little earlier. He’s not such a bad fellow. He actually told me quite a lot about what’s going on.”
“Is that—is that so?” Gabriel stammered. “You seem kinda cheerful about it.”
“Do I?”
“Anyways, do you seriously think we can trust that thing? I mean it, it’s a—what is it?”
“He says his name’s Darrigan. He’s like a grim reaper of some sort. But I suppose he’s a demon too, if you want to look at it like that.”
“A demon. Then we really are—?”
Rayne explained what he’d learned. “—And when we die, I suppose that means we’ll—”
“Don’t say it, I get the idea.” Gabriel looked very on edge, his face panic-stricken. Rayne noticed how his hair had started falling out in patches, and there was indeed a cut across his forehead, just like he’d seen earlier that day.
“What happened to your—” He ran his hand across his own forehead, indicating. Gabriel reached up and touched the cut on his face.
“It was about a week ago. There was this swarm of things. Like, demonic little bat things or something. They chased me down
a mountainside and I lost my footing, tumbled over the edge and fell down for about forever. I cut myself open on a rock, and it’s just stayed like that.”
He withdrew his hand to let Rayne look at it. Despite being a week old, fresh blood flowed from the deep gash.
“I wonder why it hasn’t healed,” Rayne mused.
“Deterioration,” Darrigan answered. Gabriel flinched when he heard the demonic voice, his eyes full of fear.
“What do you mean?” Rayne asked.
“That is the curse that Realm Wraiths suffer until their death. All the damned suffer through it, but since you’re aware, you suffer more.”
“What—what curse?”
“It is the miasma of the Abyss,” Darrigan gestured, his cloak of flowing smoke whipping into the air around him. “It corrupts mortal souls, and slowly changes them. Some decay into walking bones with rotten flesh. Others mutate into deformed monstrosities. And some become disease-ridden, all covered in sores, living in constant pain. This world is a place of torment for all mortal beings, who are not in sync with its madness. Wounds don’t heal; they just get worse.” He addressed Gabriel. “You look to be just starting your affliction, so I’d guess you’ve been coming here about half a year?”
Gabriel nodded, his expression less than happy.
“You never mentioned this!” Rayne shouted.
“Not much can be done,” said Darrigan. “Perhaps, if you find this redemption you spoke of, you could free yourselves before it’s too late. But that is why redemption is difficult for beings like you. The longer you stay here, the more the Abyss drags you in, and the deeper you become part of its insanity.”
Gabriel ran his hand across his head, as a small chunk of hair came free into his hand. “So that explains this. And I suppose it’ll happen to you too, Mercer,” He looked him up and down. “Or maybe it’s already started. You seem very pale now.” He grabbed Rayne by the wrist. “And your skin is so cold. It wasn’t this bad when we met two months ago.”
Rayne wrenched his arm free, and glanced down at it. His skin had lost a lot of color. The cold he hadn’t even noticed, and his skin did not feel chilled to him, but everything around him had felt much warmer lately, warmer every time he came to this place.
“I did just come from a very cold place,” he murmured. “Maybe that—”
“Don’t kid yourself, you wouldn’t still be cold,” Gabriel countered.
Rayne turned to Darrigan. “How long do we have?”
“How long until what?”
“Until this gets to be too much. I mean, what happens here? Do we keep changing until the day we die? If we deteriorate too much, do we lose all sanity? Do we die in the real world if we stay here too long? How long does it usually take?”
“It varies from person to person. What happens to your soul here won’t change your lifespan. You could live to be an old man and still come here every night.” Darrigan chuckled. “I can’t say much for your mental state by then, but it depends how well you can deal with the decay. It’s only when you die, that is when you truly become a part of this place.” He glanced between the two of them. “I’d say within a year or two, that’s when the effects become drastic. After about a decade, you won’t appear human anymore.”
“So, that means—” Rayne rubbed his arm. “That means there might be other Realm Wraiths here we haven’t recognized as such, because they’ve been here so long, they seem like all the other lost souls.”
Gabriel started shaking. “No, no, no, no, this isn’t happening! I don’t deserve this! You! You have something to do with this, don’t you!” He stormed over to Darrigan. “You said you’re a reaper. That means you’re the one that brings souls here, aren’t you? Did you bring me here?! You’ve made a mistake, you hear?!” He swung his fist, but it passed through Darrigan like smoke.
“Do not trifle with me, mortal!” Darrigan’s white eyes flared with an unholy power that bent the air around him. He reached out with his blade and skewered the collar of Gabriel’s shirt, using it to lift him into the air. “If you are here, it is because you deserve to be. There is never any mistake!” He drew Gabriel closer to him, forcing him to eye level, and Gabriel screamed as the demon’s eyes met his own, a stark reminder that this creature he’d been shouting at was far beyond him.
Rayne watched this, shocked. He stepped forward and grabbed Darrigan’s arm, forcing it down and letting Gabriel slide off his blade.
“I think he’s learned his lesson,” he said, staring at Darrigan. The demon looked at him.
“You don’t fear me, human?”
“You talk big, but I’ve seen worse,” Rayne stated, looking him right in the eye. The demon’s white orbs were strange to gaze at; they held an intense power, but next to the eye of that hell beast still strong in Rayne’s memory, they were nothing in comparison.
Darrigan broke the gaze between them. “Very well, then. I like you, so I’ll play nicely.” He pointed his blade at Gabriel. “But you—I don’t like you. Watch what you say.”
Gabriel sat there on the bloody ground, fog up to his waist, shivering from the experience. His head twitched up and down in a very quick nod to show that he understood. He looked downright pitiful, just a decrepit mess desperate not to fall apart in the wake of his fear.
“I still need to find Apolleta,” Rayne remarked, glancing over the landscape. He didn’t think she would be in this same area, and he had no clue how he’d even begin to find her. He glanced back at Darrigan. “Do you think you could take me to her?”
Darrigan scoffed. “I’m not some sort of tracking animal! I only know you because I’ve been following you, and I only know him because he ran away from me like a frightened rabbit the moment we met. The Abyss is infinite. You won’t find her unless you know exactly where she is, or have some way of connecting with her soul to track her down.”
“I see.” Rayne walked forward a little, closer to a cluster of entrails-draped trees. He placed his hand on the tree bark, oblivious to the dripping bile coating it, lost deep in his thoughts. “Then, if I remembered her strongly enough, could that connect us? Could I find her that way?”
Before Darrigan could answer, a thick pudgy arm reached out from the tree and seized Rayne’s hand. He cried out, trying to pull away, but more arms clutched him, twisting his arm with enough force to dislocate it from the shoulder. Sharp teeth covered every finger, each tooth ripping through Rayne’s flesh and clothes.
With a flash, the sharp sound of steel slicing meat, Darrigan’s blades cut clean through the arms. They fell to the ground twitching, as did Rayne.
“I told you to be more discreet,” the demonic reaper scolded him. Before them the tree bubbled and swelled, pulling itself from the ground in a disgusting, jiggling mass of flesh no longer reminiscent of plant life, coated in a very thick slime. Blood dribbled from the gurgling mouths on its surface, which cracked open wide to stab the air with long, spear-like tongues.
“And now I’ve made it angry, isn’t that just peachy?” From Darrigan’s expression, Rayne knew if he had pupils or irises, the demon would be rolling his eyes about now. He stood up, but the reaper held out one bladed hand, telling him to stay put.
As Rayne watched, Darrigan’s form shattered, becoming a floating mass of black shadows and drifting ash clouds with two visible blades. Like a pollutant cloud it surrounded the gelatinous mass of flesh, and with movements far too swift for Rayne to comprehend, the blades slashed and hacked through the monster like butter. It fell apart in meaty chunks, which dissolved into viscous red fluid before seeping into the rotted ground. Only a ripped-apart pile of bloated, seeping organs remained of the beast, twitching in its last moments of existence before black rot spread through it, reducing it to decrepit dust. The cloud of shadows reformed into a solid shape, and Darrigan whipped his blades through the air, shaking off stray bits of blood and skin.
“What a mess,” he spat. “I’ve always hated this place. Everything sticks to you and the stench
doesn’t fade for weeks.”
Gabriel had watched the entire affair with his mouth open. Darrigan noticed his shock and turned his leering face to him.
“Give me a reason, and I’ll see to it that you’re next,” he teased. Gabriel glared, but he couldn’t hide his trepidation.
“You saved me,” Rayne gasped, grasping at his limp arm as it hung his shoulder. “Thank you.”
The reaper seemed surprised by this. “Well, it’s nice to be appreciated.”
Rayne looked down at the remains of the monster that had been trying to destroy him only moments ago. He remembered the previous night, the creature he’d fought when he found Apolleta, and wondered if she was all right, or if more of those monsters had arrived to tear her apart.
Rayne’s eyes closed as he pondered this, trying to remember her. He brought up her face in his mind, recalling its every detail; the round jaw, the lines under her eyes, the low tones of her voice as she’d berated him. Her image became clearer, and it felt as if she was standing before him. He reached out his hand to her, and in that instant a numb sensation watched over his body. He heard what sounded like cries of surprise from his two companions, but they faded to nothing. That same feeling from before, of passing through many worlds in the space of an instant swept over him, a much more familiar sensation now.
He opened his eyes. This wasn’t the raging sea of fire from before, but uncomfortable warmth still lingered. The black, cracked earth burned his toes, scorched and ashen. Within rifts in the ground he could see molten rock pooling inside, and all around him, craters spewed red flame into the air, dispensing glowing orange embers to the sky. A terrible place that smelled of sulfur and coal, but not quite as terrible as before.
“You’re always in the warm places, aren’t you?” he said. He heard faint breathing behind him, then a small gasp of surprise.
“Oh thank God, you came back!” Apolleta exclaimed. “I thought you were gone for good! You just vanished into thin air like that!”
