by Ali Winters
Caspian nodded in approval, then closed the lid and handed it back to her. Nivian jumped up from her seat and picked it up from his open palm with a little more force than was necessary. The relief she felt at the weight of the watch in her hand was much more intense than she expected.
“Thank you,” she muttered, then quickly put it back into her pocket, sitting down with a sigh of relief.
Caspian smiled, but a shadow passed over his midnight eyes. Before she could wonder about it, he opened a drawer and pulled out a notebook, with thin straps wound several times around it. He picked up the quill to his left, touching the black feather to his lips for a brief moment, then scribbled down a few lines. She tried to sit a little higher to see what he wrote, but to no avail. He wrapped the leather cord around it and placed it back into the drawer, closing it before she could catch a glimpse.
“Has something changed since the last time I was here?” Nivian asked. Her eyes roamed across the bookshelves, then the rest of the room, though she could spot nothing out of the ordinary. “Something feels… different.”
Caspian went still for a long moment before his shoulders uncharacteristically slumped. “You have been through a lot recently,” he said. He pinched his chin between his thumb and forefinger, his gaze following hers. “Perhaps,” he added, eventually swiveling in his chair. He looked out the window then faced her again. Deep worry lines now creased his forehead. “I hadn’t noticed it until now. But yes, it seems the force that is keeping this realm separate from the others is in the beginning stages of fading. I am amazed you felt it already.”
The words were heavy with a meaning she couldn’t decipher with the fog that muddled her thoughts. Caspian reached into yet another drawer and pulled out a black velvet pouch. Two objects clinked delicately against each other. They both stared at the bag for a long moment. Anticipation crawled down Nivian’s spine like countless fingers dancing.
He turned the bag upside down. Two stones poured out into his palm. One obsidian with a symbol resembling an upside down scythe, and the other silver with a vertical line running down the center of the outline of an hourglass. She recognized them from the day Kain died. “We will discuss this at a later time,” Caspian had said, but they hadn’t had a chance to discuss them yet. In truth, she’d forgotten all about the stones.
“What are they?” she asked breathlessly.
“They are the vessels that hold all that remains of Silas’s and Yeva’s powers.” He gave her a pointed look.
She glanced from the stones to his face and back again. “What are you going to do with them?”
“You know you are to be the next Fate Keeper.” His words filled her stomach with lead. She wasn’t sure she wanted to hear any more, but still, he continued, unable to sense her dread, “We must train you and increase your power so you can withstand the transfer.”
“My training?” Finally, they were getting to the reason he required her presence today.
“Once you are fully prepared, I will transfer Silas’s powers to you.”
“How long—” She cleared her throat. The memory of when Silas had put her through his version of so called training flashed through her mind. It had been painful. He had made sure of that.
Increasing her powers was one thing, but to take on powers as strong as Silas’s… Nivian shuddered. An increase of that magnitude had to be infinitely worse. Then there was the pressure of his responsibilities. All of it was beyond her current scope of things. “How long will it take for me to be ready?”
“I cannot say for sure. Success will be questionable at best with you being in such a weakened state. That is why I believe we must start sooner than later.”
Nivian would normally take offense to being considered weak by anyone; she’d spent her entire existence as a Reaper striving to be the best.
But deep down she knew he was right. She was anything but strong, at least, not any more. And she had no idea when or even if she would feel like herself again.
She twisted her hands in her lap. “What if it doesn’t work?”
“Then we are all doomed. But at least we would have tried.” It was harsh, but undeniably true. He clutched the obsidian stone tightly in his hand. “There is one more thing.”
Nivian scooted to the edge of her seat and gripped the cushion. Her nails pressing deep into the upholstery as she tried to steady herself.
“I am unsure what these unexplained changes you are experiencing will have on the process, if any. You have mortal responses to your surroundings now. It is unheard of for a Reaper… but then,” he added almost fondly, “you have always been far from a normal Reaper.” He’d meant her past life. The one that separated her from the rest. “Though you don’t seem to have lost any of your abilities, yet.”
Yet? She never thought anything could take away her powers. “Changes?”
“The ones brought on by your proximity to the Hunter.”
She’d almost forgotten a conversation that now felt so long ago. The one Silas had with her. He had said the same thing of Kain when her dreams—no—memories, started to return. Were these effects she now experienced connected to them?
“Nivian, if this fails then everything is lost. The veil between realms will fall, the balance will be no more, and everything will be destroyed. Nothing will escape… not even us.” Fear tinted his words.
Her stomach turned leaden. She only had one purpose in her existence left. One thing left to hold on to. She had to cling to the people in her life that she still cared for. And if she failed, it would spell unfathomable consequences. Keeping the balance had to come first. It would feel damn near impossible, but what choice did she have?
Caspian returned both stones back to the velvet bag.
“What about the other stone? What will happen to Yeva’s powers?” All the lore she could recall spoke of a duality. Light and dark. Night and day… Life and death.
Caspian sighed through his nose and folded his hands before him, leaning forward. His head snapped up a fraction of a second before a sharp knock on the door made Nivian jump.
Evander strode into the room, stopping just to the left behind her chair. He cut her a quick glance before turning his full attention on Caspian.
Why is he here? She wondered, almost glad for the interruption. She needed a moment to sort through everything they’d spoken of.
“Hunter Corp. is ready to discuss the—” he stumbled on the word, and again he flicked his eyes toward her briefly as he continued, “issue at hand.”
Kain’s father would be there. Nivian found herself unable to sit still at that realization. Though Kain had never been close with his father, there were parts of Kain in the man. Nivian was desperate to hold onto any connection to Kain that she could find.
“Thank you, Evander.” Caspian stood and walked around the large oak desk and held out his hand for Nivian. “If you will excuse us, Nivian.”
She jumped to her feet, ignoring his outstretched hand. “I want to go.” It was half question, half demand.
“I do not know if that is a good idea.” Caspian rubbed the day old stubble along his jaw.
A hole formed in Nivian’s chest as her lungs tightened. Her emotions ran wild, filling her with a desperation she couldn’t rein in.
Her entire existence as a Reaper had been easy, even when she first met Kain. At the time, it had felt like a challenge with no right answers, but compared to this? Compared to this—that had been the easiest thing in the world. Nivian had no idea how to deal with the pain, the anger, the sorrow. They all jumbled together to make a tangled mess.
She was drowning and grasping desperately at straws, at the smallest connections, something to save her from this roller coaster ride she couldn’t escape. She would try anything to feel as if she stood on level ground once again.
Nivian opened her mouth to protest and make an argument as to why he had to allow her to go, but no sound came out.
“It might be good for her to get out and h
elp with Hunter Corp. for a while,” Evander offered.
Had he read the turmoil in her eyes and understood? Nivian studied him, then turned her eyes to Caspian. “Please?”
The head Reaper regarded her for several long minutes. “You may work with Hunter Corp for a few months.” Her eyes brightened, but he held up a hand, tempering her excitement. “Under one condition,” he said.
“Yes?” She pushed up on her toes, trying to get closer to his words.
“You may join us, only if you start your training to become the Fate Keeper right away.”
“Yes, of course,” she agreed, nodding her head vigorously and inhaling a shaky breath. She would have said yes to anything in that moment.
“This is not a game, Nivian,” he warned. “You must not forget, the balance comes before all else.”
FOUR
KAIN
KAIN WATCHED THE portal close behind him, a hand absentmindedly rubbed at his chest, just over his heart. Holy hell, that hit had hurt worse than anything he’d ever felt before in his life. The pain stopped the second Nivian’s scythe had sliced through his life thread, but the echo of the memory remained.
Nivian took one step toward him, and it looked as if she’d follow. As much as he loved having her at his side, this was one place he didn’t want her to follow. He was dead, but she still lived, and he wanted it to stay that way. It was why he’d pushed her out of the way. Though, taking the hit hadn’t exactly been his plan. He would have preferred it missed them both.
But it didn’t matter now.
Caspian gently gripped her wrist, stopping her. Haunted blue eyes were the last thing he saw right before the light faded, leaving him in utter darkness.
He wanted to go back. To comfort her and tell her that everything would be okay. But that was no longer his right. Even if it were possible. He did not belong to the same plain of existence anymore. He’d passed into something unknown. And no longer could he allow himself to look back. From now on, it was forward to whatever awaited him on this side.
Kain spun in a slow circle. A faint, orange light flickered along the walls of an endlessly long hall. The source of it somewhere at the very end, out of sight, but somehow it managed to give him just enough to see where he needed to go.
There was nothing to do now but follow the light. Setting one foot in front of the other, he walked and walked for what felt like seconds and hours at the same time. It was impossible to tell. The hall was both infinite and finite. Each step took him forward but also seemed to move him farther back. It gave him the feeling of walking down a moving sidewalk at an airport heading in the wrong direction.
Just when he assumed that this tunnel would be the entirety of his afterlife, he hit the end. Flames covered the walls to either side of him. He squinted into the fire but couldn’t find the source of their fuel. Straight ahead, peeking through the inferno, was a thick chain fence door with two bars of metal forming an X over the front with joints. To the right, an elevator button was mounted on the wall with a single down pointing arrow, lit up. Whirring sounded, followed by a ding just as an elevator box slid into place. A slender hand pushed the door open and his jaw dropped.
Cassandra stood with a clipboard in one hand as she casually leaned against the wall that was little more than a flimsy chain-link panel. The back of the elevator was made entirely of glass, looking out upon a vast cavern. Fires burned along the walls in similar fashion to the hall he’d just traversed. Kain inched closer, only daring to poke his head into the small space. More flames danced and jumped, licking the air. The chasm went down farther than his eyes could see. It seemed to grow deeper, widening as if it were a demon’s maw rising, and coming for him.
“Any day now,” Cassandra said in a bored tone.
He looked to the woman, who was now his Spirit Councilor, and shook his head as he backed up. “No thanks, I’d rather not travel down into the fiery pit of hell, if it’s all the same to you.”
Cassandra scoffed and rolled her eyes, straightening. “First of all, it’s not hell. Second, you’re dead. Remember? It can’t hurt you.” She stepped out and walked to the nearest fire and shoved her hand into it up past her elbow. When she pulled her arm out, her skin and clothes remained unmarked. “Special effects. It’s tacky if you ask me, but our overlord has a flair for the dramatic.” She flourished a hand through the air.
Kain eyed her, then the fire, then reached into the nearest flame until his entire hand was consumed. Slowly, he pulled back. Not a single burn marred his skin. He hadn’t even felt the sting of heat.
“Overlord?” he asked, turning his hand over to examine all sides, more amazed then perhaps he should have been.
“You’ll meet him soon enough. Now, if you’re done, can we get on with this? You have a long journey ahead of you and I have other souls to guide.”
Without another word, Kain stepped onto the elevator behind her, still not fond of the rickety structure. The gated doors closed, swaying with their flimsy construction. If he leaned on it, he was sure he’d fall out. And dead or not, there was only one way it could end—badly.
Cassandra pressed the single button on the panel and waited. Elevator was a loose term for the rickety metal box they now stood in. He turned toward her, curious about what awaited him once they hit the bottom. His mouth snapped shut with a loud clack of his teeth as the contraption plummeted.
Kain threw himself back against the sidewall as the speed threatened to lift him off his feet. Cassandra stood opposite him examining her nails, the slightest hint of a smirk playing on her lips as if to say, “What are you afraid of? Dying?”
He forced his muscles to relax, hating to admit that even in death, fear still lurked like a monster hiding in the shadows at the back of his mind. He couldn’t die twice, but he hadn’t been dead long enough for his mind to let go of his mortal phobias and uncertainties.
Kain paused and narrowed his eyes at Cassandra. Could he?
“No,” she said flatly as if she’d read his thoughts.
“No?”
“No, you can’t die twice.”
“How did you—”
She turned to him, hand on her hip. “Because it’s the same thing. Every. Time. The same asinine questions, the same stupid reactions. You didn’t actually think you were the first dead man to set foot on this elevator, did you?”
“Er, I suppose not.” Kain frowned.
The Spirit Councilor’s eyebrows shot up, rolling, as she harrumphed and faced forward again. Obviously bothered by something.
Kain took a few moments to remind himself the worst had already happened. He was already dead. A chant he repeated over and over. A fact which his mind still had trouble grasping.
Through the flames, he could see different layers of the earth zoom by in a blur. It was incredible to think that he could see history pass before his eyes in such a way—even if it were only special effects.
“So what exactly does a Spirit Councilor do?” Kain asked.
Cassandra cut him a glance from the corners of her eyes then ticked each thing off on her fingers as she spoke, “I guide each soul through the first part of their after life, answer any questions they have, and make sure that everyone goes where they need to go. I’m basically a glorified secretary.”
“Are there many places for souls to go?” he asked. The fact that the elevator was descending instead of rising worried him.
“Humans go to heaven or hell—and before you ask, I was only in heaven for a few hours before they pulled me for duty, so I didn’t have a chance to check out what they have to offer—Hunters get to travel the underworld first.” She pointed out the glass backing. “That is all illusion, this elevator is just a convoluted way to travel from the mortal realm to the after life. It’s meant to give the souls some question and answer time. The ride ends when you are ready.”
Kain’s mouth quirked up on one side. Both times he’d met Cassandra she’d had a take-no-prisoners attitude, but in a way that made her
amusing rather than abrasive. Her snarky comments had a sense of humor to them rather than the annoyance she tried to exude. “Well, you seem happy.”
“Of course.” She flipped her hair off her shoulder in mock arrogance and paused, really looking at him this time. Her smug expression faded and turned to one of pure contentment. “Yeah, I really am. It’s better than being a lawyer. And I think…” A blush crept across her cheeks. “I think I was born to do this.” Cassandra cleared her throat and faced forward again, clearly uncomfortable with revealing something so personal. “Which is ridiculous, since I had to die to find my calling.”
Kain chuckled.
“They wanted me to just float around all day playing a harp or whatever it is they do for fun. Can you imagine doing that for eternity? No thank you. I can’t tell you how relieved I was when Ha—” she caught her near slip, “our Overlord asked for me personally.”
“Well, I think it suits you.”
Cassandra flashed a toothy smile.
“So, what can I expect?” he asked. “And why, exactly, do Hunters have to go to the Underworld first?”
“Hunters were never meant to die, and Reapers were never meant to be destroyed. It all started during the Dissension when the Watchers and Reapers started attacking each other. The Overlord was the only one to step up and do something about it.”
Kain rubbed the back of his neck. A wave of guilt rushed over him, but he didn’t know why. Maybe it was because he was associated with the Hunters. Or maybe it was because in another life, he’d been one of the key players in that war.
“When a Reaper is destroyed, that’s it. There’s nothing more to existence for them. But Hunters gained mortal qualities when they fell from grace,” she continued.
Fell from grace? “You make it sound like we were guardian angels or something…” he trailed off at the incredulous expression now gracing her face.
Cassandra scribbled something he couldn’t see down on her clipboard.
“You were.” Her voice contained the barest hint of a laugh. “You didn’t have wings or anything cheesy like that. You were earth bound, but meant to guard against any early deaths and make sure life happened by being healers for mortals. But after the Dissension, your souls became vulnerable, and thus, no longer pure and subject to the same pitfalls as any human. Now you must endure the trials in order to cleanse your soul so it might be reborn one day.”
