Dark Destiny

by Thomas Grave

  You did the right thing. That darkness you found in Jared’s Soul belonged to the Master. Jared was not in control of his own actions.

  “I didn’t do it for him,” Sebastian said quietly.

  The roar of the Master’s transformation ceased. The swirl of black mist cleared and standing calmly where the vortex had been was no longer a sickly, greasy zombie, but what the Reaper understood to be a newly born Seal. He wore a black suit with gold pinstripes, and on his head, a matching fedora. Around his arm was a band with seven strange symbols. Six of them were lit, glowing a brilliant scarlet, one more so than the others. The seventh symbol was dull and grey.

  The earth rumbled beneath Sebastian’s feet and many of the zombies stumbled and fell to the ground. A crimson light engulfed the cemetery, and Sebastian glanced up to the dark sky. The moon, which had not been visible in Purgatorium before, loomed overhead. Not a sphere of silver or gold, but a blood red orb hung above them. The zombies crawling along the ground shrieked and moaned in fear, diving behind tombstones in a vain attempt to seek shelter.

  “Is it possible to get her Soul back?” he spoke, so only the Elder could hear.

  Yes. If you kill the Seal, her Soul will be free.

  There was some hope, at least. “Sounds good to me.”

  He’d brought her into this and it was his responsibility to get her out of it, to send her back to the Light where she’d be safe, where the boy who loved her waited.

  He reached for his weapon, which appeared in his hand. There was no black and purple fire; it was just there. His mind and body were poised, ready for combat.

  Seals were supposed to be some of the most powerful, supernatural creatures in existence. It was time to find out just how strong they really were.

  Makayla’s Soul depended on it.

  Wednesday, 8:24 am (Purgatorium)

  The blood red moon cast an eerie glow over the cemetery, making it seem that the whole world was on fire. The ground trembled, tombstones and mausoleum walls tumbled to the dirt or shattered on other stones. The graveyard was packed with Souls. Some had brought lawn chairs and chose places to settle in. Others moved about, clambering over one another, craning their zombie necks to see the excitement, their heads bobbing up and down. The more decayed zombies had glowing white eyes, piercing the red hue. Cheers and shouts filled the air. One zombie appeared to be taking bets. The horde extended into the streets outside the cemetery’s torn and rusted gate.

  Morose, who hadn’t moved since his transformation, spoke. “Interesting,” he murmured, his eyebrows furrowed.

  He seemed to inspect his newly refreshed hand. Gone was the zombified look. His skin had become smooth and youthful. Now that he looked alive, Sebastian could see that Morose wasn’t terribly old, not much more than thirty perhaps, and his skin was olive-toned, as though he had Italian heritage. The stench of decay no longer surrounded him, replaced instead by the smell of expensive cologne. Morose’s gaze traveled to his opposite arm, and he opened and closed his palm in wonderment.

  “Amazing,” he paused. “This is how I appeared before I—”

  “Enjoy the new body while you can,” the Reaper called out. “Because you’re not going to have it much longer.”

  Morose turned to the Reaper. He seemed rather puzzled about the whole situation. “Is it you that I have to thank for this?”

  The Reaper blinked. “Are you high?”

  A deep befuddled expression fell upon Morose’s face. He cocked his head and rolled his glazed-over eyes to the sky.

  I suggest that now would be the best opportunity to strike. He’s still processing everything. Although we can’t be sure of what his Gifts are, the quicker you end this, the better. At least before backup arrives.

  “Back up?” Sebastian asked.

  Before the Elder could respond, a small red flame appeared close by, a few inches off the ground. It grew quickly, red lightning snapping and crackling within it.

  Yes backup. The Seals are coming. If he steps through that portal, there will be no way to get to him.

  “Understood,” he said, and he blinked forward with an overhand strike. As he came out of his blink just inches from Morose, he met with an invisible force that propelled him back. Landing on his feet, a glimmer of light from what he bounced off of faded away.

  “He has a shield or something,” Sebastian said.

  I’ve analyzed it. In its current state, you can break through it. But you need to hurry. His power level is rising at an intense rate.

  The Reaper nodded. “On it.”

  As he braced himself to blink again, a female voice echoed throughout the graveyard.

  The word “Stop,” floated through the air and tickled his ears.

  Pain flared in his arms and gradually spread throughout his entire body. He was unable to move. His whole body leaned forward, his scythe stuck in both hands.

  You’re lucky. I have experience with this Gift. Negating the pain effect now.

  The pain subsided. Only he was still frozen, as though he had been encased in a block of cement. No matter how hard he tried, or how vigorously he commanded his limbs to move, they would not obey. His eyes were the only thing he could control.

  “What. Is. This?”

  One of Cleo’s gifts is complete control over any male creature. But Sebastian, you are stronger than she is. Stronger than all of them. Push the command out of your system and take charge. If you don’t show them your power, they will never respect you. I recommend showing them. They have been ruling this land for far too long. These Souls are counting on you.

  Deep within his core, he knew the Elder was right. This was his domain. These Souls were his people. It was his job—no, his responsibility—to protect them from all this madness. Gaining control of his power, he pushed it into every fiber of his body.

  The horde fell silent. Every face was blank, emotionless. Empty stares of nothing. The eeriness of their lost faces made his skin crawl.

  You need to hurry, I had to use a considerable amount of your power to negate the pain effect. You are running dangerously low.

  Still frozen, the Reaper glared at Cleo with hard eyes.

  “Release me,” he commanded. “Walk away now and I will let you live. I will not give you another opportunity.”

  His voice came out deep, older, confident. Deadly. It didn’t sound like him at all. Maybe this was part of his untapped power.

  Cleo laughed. “Who are you to give me orders?”

  She whirled around and stepped calmly toward Morose. She took him by the elbow and started to lead him toward the portal.

  “Death,” the Reaper answered, and he felt regained control over his muscles. He gripped his scythe tighter and then leapt into the air, the layered cloth of his robes fluttering in all directions by some unseen wind. The scythe was behind him, reflecting the moonlight as he brought it up for an overhead strike.

  Cleo stumbled and fell backwards.

  “Vlad!” she cried. “Help!”

  The Reaper brought the scythe down with intense fury, where it was met with a large black blade. White sparks exploded from the impact, raining down on top of Cleo who regained her footing and stood up with a superior smile on her face. Morose still stood by, grinning like an idiot at his dapper clothes and smooth skin.

  The one she’d called ‘Vlad’ was at least twelve feet tall. He wore some sort of heavy black armor, like a medieval knight. His armor was covered with sharp edges. Small spikes came out of the knuckles, knees and feet. Through the creases in the armor, between the metal plates, there was a red, pulsing glow. In the knight’s right hand was the handle of the massive sword, the blade the purest, deepest black Sebastian had ever seen. It reflected no light. In fact, the edge of the blade seemed to swallow the light as the air around it was slightly dimmer. A glow of black energy. The sword was as long as Vlad was tall and had a grip long enough to allow two-handed use, even two hands as huge as this knight’s. The runes on his Seal armband flickered
in unison with the red pulse from within his armor.

  The knight raised the claymore over his head and went for a sweeping strike. The Reaper blinked back as Vlad cut down nothing but empty space. An enormous “whoosh” sliced through the wind.

  When the Reaper reappeared a moment later, his boots skidded to a stop. Vlad stood tall in front of Morose and Cleo, sword at the ready.

  Three Seals. Not good.

  Reaper, he is Vlad of the Seals. He is physically the strongest. With your current power level, I would suggest not confronting him in head to head combat. You will likely fail.

  Behind Vlad, Morose blinked his eyes and recognition started to register on his face. He addressed Cleo reverently.

  “My queen.” He bowed. “I am ready.”

  Cleo nodded. “Let us depart this cesspool.”

  Not happening, thought Sebastian. He barged ahead, scythe ready to strike. His boots pounded on the ground, echoing throughout the cemetery.

  Cleo and Morose paused, clearly shocked by the Reaper’s intent to attack. Vlad straightened his back as though he was surprised himself.

  The Reaper swung as soon as he was within striking range of Vlad. His blade collided with the enormous sword causing a deafening roar of clashing metal. Wind rushed in all directions once again. Bright white sparks thundered to life, slowly showering the ground. Vlad didn’t budge. His glowing red eyes shrunk to crinkled slits.

  Are you insane? I said not to attack! He’s too strong!

  “I know, I know. Relax. I have a plan.” The Reaper smiled. “I only hope it works.”

  As Vlad reared back, gathering dark energy into his blade, the already dim light of the cemetery darkened even further. Sebastian knew that timing was going to be everything.

  Right before Vlad came down with his blade, the Reaper cut into a haunt less than a foot in front of Vlad. The cut was vertical, like splitting a log in two. The fabric of reality wavered as the haunt split open, displaying another version of this graveyard, a much more peaceful version.

  Right before Vlad came down with his blade, the Reaper sliced a vertical and precise cut into a haunt less than a foot in front of the giant Soul. The air around the cut wavered and split, displaying in the tear of reality another version of this graveyard, with actual grass growing and a peaceful buzz flowing throughout.

  Without being able to stop himself, Vlad lunged, leading with his massive blade. His blade slipped into the haunt, vanishing from everybody’s line of sight.

  Next, the Reaper blinked behind Vlad. Hovering a few feet in the air, Sebastian clenched his jaw and struck the knight on the back of the head with the blunt end of his scythe with every ounce of power he had. The thunderous blow echoed for miles.

  Vlad momentarily lost his balance. He stumbled forward into the haunt, disappearing completely from view. Despite Sebastian’s hands going numb from impact, he managed to step forward, raise his scythe, and slice down at the exact same location as before, sealing Vlad within the haunt.

  Cleo watched, her mouth agape. Her expression gave the Reaper confidence.

  “There. Problem solved. Okay,” the Reaper said, turning back to Cleo and Morose. He braced his scythe for an attack. “Who’s next?”

  Cleo’s eyes sunk into pure slits.

  “You,” she whispered.

  “I thought ou Seals are supposed to be strong? So far, I don’t see it,” the Reaper chided, “but I’m not taking any chances. I don’t need any more coming through, do I?”

  He blinked in front of the portal and, just inches away from the swirling flame, he sliced open another haunt. With his scythe flashing, he made the haunt opening larger. Enough to encompass the entire span of the Seal portal.

  He smiled, pleased with his ingenuity, and took a step back. It was now impossible for any other Seals to come through the portal and step out into his version of the cemetery. If they did try to come through, they would simply find themselves in that haunt, the one he’d just opened. Sun shining down on a perfectly well-kept lawn, no tombstones in ruins, and the smell of freshly mown grass.

  The Reaper smiled at his work. “Cute, isn’t it? I think I even see a rainbow.”

  You’ve sealed her here as well.

  “Yup. No one comes in, no one goes out. You hear me, Cleo? I’ve sealed it from this side.” He smiled at Cleo. “Basically, you’re stuck here.”

  Cleo’s eyes burned. Morose bared his teeth, snarling.

  “No matter what your Gifts are, I seriously doubt you guys can get in and out of haunts. From the way I understand it, that’s my job.”

  He straightened his back, put a hand on his hip and rested his scythe on his shoulder.

  “So, as I said.” He paused for dramatic effect. “Who’s next?”

  Morose took a step forward. “You miserable piece of filth!”

  “Morose! Good to have you back with us,” the Reaper mocked.

  Morose smiled wickedly and stretched out his arm, his palms up, revealing a glittering piece of spirit crack.

  “This is supposed to be my celebration!” Morose ranted, launching the spirit crack toward the Reaper.

  The wind howled as the glare of the Soul energy barreled toward the Reaper. Sebastian’s eyes went wide just before he blinked. The blast tore through the ground, obliterating a tomb into tiny bits of concrete. Small stone pieces rolled on the ground. Behind the tomb, no Soul moved. Now, the zombies stared at the Seals with their empty eyes.

  “I—I can harness the power of a Soul without requiring a Soul,” Morose said to himself, his tone filled with wonder. He extended his hand again. A vortex of Soul energy emerged in his palm, swirling until coming into formation. A spirit crack materialized; the unstable energy of whirling twisted power. Gripping the energy in his hand, Morose looked up, eyes darting in search of the Reaper. A shadow stirred off in the corner. Morose flung his hand in that direction, launching another attack.

  A dead tree exploded, wooden shrapnel impaling the zombies in the area. They fell to the ground but remained utterly silent, as though their deaths didn’t matter at all.

  Blinking a few feet in front of Morose, the Reaper took a swipe with his blade, attempting to cleave him in half. Again, his attack was met with resistance from the energy shield. The dim blue light rippled in the air before fading away. It propelled the Reaper back a few feet, his boots skidding and digging into the ground. He heard Cleo laugh quietly.

  Sebastian gritted his teeth. “That stupid shield. And with the Souls in the area going all ‘deer in headlights,’ they’re just sitting ducks.”

  When it comes to dealing with the Seals, information is severely limited.

  “I will show you, boy,” Morose growled, “that Seals are not to be trifled with.”

  He took another step forward, raising his hand. “There is a reason the Seals are at the ‘top of the food chain.’” He brought his hand up and clenched the other. “And you are about to learn why it is!”

  The Reaper tried to blink, but couldn’t.

  “Oh, crap!” he shouted, leaping out of the way just as another blast erupted from Morose’s hand. Dirt and bits of tombstone showered onto him. He quickly pushed off the ground and took off in a full sprint.

  “Why can’t I blink?” he shouted over another loud blast.

  Your power level is too low.

  The Reaper exhaled. “. . . really?” he gripped.

  His boots pounded the dirt path as he drew Morose’s fire to a section of the graveyard where there were not as many dumbfounded Souls. Grave markers and mausoleums exploded all around him as the white, explosive energy of spirit cracks missed him by inches.

  If only you could do a Spirit Crack.

  A blast exploded in front of him as he ran, searing a portion of his robes. Flames leapt up and he grabbed at the cloth with his gloved hands to smother them out.

  “What do you mean?” he asked, breathing hard.

  I’ve been analyzing his Spirit Cracks. If you had their level of powe
r, you could take out practically anything.

  Sebastian’s eyes lit up. “Anything?”

  I believe so.

  “Huh. Okay. Could I handle a point blank collision with one of those?”

  Well, it would severely reduce your own power level, maybe even to the point where you’d lose your ability to commune with me. You might even lose your robes. You’d be almost helpless, even with you being a horseman. I wouldn’t try it.

  “Would you live?”

  At first, the Elder did not reply.

  Another explosion boomed in his ears.

  Why? the Elder asked, his tone filled with caution.

  “Hmm,” Sebastian murmured. “You’re going to hate me for this.”

  Oh, dear Lord. Tell me you’re not considering—

  “Channel some of the power away from my robes and give me one more blink,” the Reaper said quickly.

  Done.

  The Reaper blinked. He reappeared mid-leap, his arm reaching forward as the cloth of his robes billowed wildly around him. Morose raised his hand, a spirit crack instantly forming inches from his palm. Sebastian poured some of his power into his own hand. The energy was raw and his hand tingled.

  The Reaper’s hand met Morose’s with the emerging spirit crack, almost palm to palm. Sebastian estimated, hopefully correctly, this was just about where the energy shield would be.

  Morose’s eyes widened as he released the spirit crack almost into the Reaper’s hand. Sebastian’s palm seemed to catch on fire and pain shot up his arm into his shoulder. Summoning all the strength and power of his own raw energy, he tried to force the spirit crack back at Morose. He expected mixed results, and he got them. The spirit crack exploded. But only half of the energy reflected back at Morose, the Reaper took the rest. His robes had blown off his body, leaving him in his jeans, red shirt and black jacket. The energy shield shattered, glassy energy bits sprinkling the ground.

  Both Sebastian and Morose rocketed backward. As he flew through the air, a blazing white light of energy struck the Reaper, shooting up his arm to the rest of his body like a bolt of lightning.