Death's Emissary

[WP] You are a hero in service of Death itself. As counterintuitive as this may seem, it is not what it looks like. It's just that villains tend to kill people before their time and Death really hates people messing up fate.

*****

I work in service of Death and in doing so, preserve life. For as long as I can remember, I’ve worked for hand in hand with Death to ensure that those fated to live to survive villainous attacks. My work keeps order, but more than that, my work brings me a deep sense of fulfillment—I feel that I am achieving my highest purpose. I go by many names. Some call me “hero” others, like Death, call me “son.”

One evening I made a particularly challenging save that changed everything. Every move I made felt fated to fail: each step I took, the ground crumbled; if I zigged left, so too did the villain; I took blow after blow after blow before finally overcoming. I made my save and righted the plans of fate, but at great personal bodily cost. As the son of Death I—of course—could not be killed so that did not worry me, but my bones still broke, my body still bled, and my nerves still felt. I had never been so viciously battered. I returned to my father’s realm for respite.

Upon approaching my father’s chambers, I heard deep, booming shouts emanating from within. I had grown accustomed to such a phenomenon as my father had a short temper and was used to getting his way. What I was not prepared for was the return volley of cannonade shouts equally explosive and violent. I could hardly believe my ears. When Death shouts, one listens, one does not shout back.

I burst into the room. I saw Death standing behind his desk, hands planted on the table, the flames behind his eyes burning with white-hot intensity. He was staring at a woman who was seated, leaning back in her chair, wearing a pure white toga with long blonde hair.

“Father! What is going on?” I shouted.

“Speak of the devil,” said the woman. “We were just talking about you, child.” She rose from her seat and walked over to me, her pace was slow but assured. She towered over me, she must have been over 8 feet tall.

“Stay away from him!” Said my Father causing the room to shake. “This is not our deal!”

“What are you talking about?” I said. “What deal?”

“Oh, dear boy,” said the woman placing an arm on my shoulder, “there is much your father has not told you.”

“Stop this…please,” said Death.

“Who—who are you?” I stammered.

“I am inescapable. I am the arbiter of able. I am the celestial of soon. I am the teacher of to be and the decider of destiny,” she said growing louder with each title.

“She’s Fate, Nolan,” said Death.

“Yes, I am Fate,” she said with a smile. “You have worked at my behest for some time now. You and your father have proven most effective in seeing that I will be done. But tonight, dear boy, tonight you cheated me. And I have come to collect.”

“That’s not possible,” I said. “I completed my task as assigned. I saved every person I was meant to. Every life was spared from the attack. I don’t understand.”

“She doesn’t mean the people, son,” said Death as he walked over to stand between Fate and me. “She means to take you. She claims you were meant to die tonight.”

“Ha, you’re both messing with me,” I said. “That’s not a thing. Death progeny cannot be killed, I exist outside of mortal constraints, just like my father.”

Fate, ignoring me, turned to my father, “you’ve built a fantasy world for yourself, haven’t you, Death? Progeny? From you? This is worse than I ever imagined.” She took my father’s head in her hands with maternal care and looked him straight on, “you must tell him now, or I will.”

“Father, what is she talking about?” I said. I felt a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach.

“Son,” my father said with a sigh, “I must come clean. You are not my son. You are human.”

And then the room went black.

I awoke in my father’s chambers, my wounds had all been healed and I felt much better. I thought it had all been a fevered nightmare until I sat up to see Fate and Death staring at me.

“Good, he has awoken,” said Fate. “Say your goodbyes and I’ll be on my way.”

“At least let me explain myself to him,” said Death.

“Very well, I suppose he does deserve that much,” replied Fate.

I was speechless. This was for real? I was human, and I was about to be killed by Fate herself? My heart beat fast; I could hear the blood pulsing through my ears and it sounded like a swinging pendulum. As long as I could hear that swing, I was alive, and I could react.

“Son, do not be afraid,” said Death. “You see, you were my first save. I grew tired of harvesting souls before their time. Not only was the cost of human life tragic, but the paperwork I had to complete and submit to Fate’s offices was growing cumbersome. So when I saw you there, laying in your crib, with a building falling around you, I…I just acted. I wrapped you up and ferried you away from that place.

“Because your parents had perished already, I had planned to drop you off with the nearest human. But then I stared at you, and you stared back at me. You grabbed my boney finger and smiled. At that moment, I knew I had to raise you as my own. At that moment, I knew I would do whatever it took to keep you safe. At that moment, I knew that I would do the impossible so that you might live.

“So I approached Fate with an admission and a plan. I had saved a human who was not meant to die, but I would raise that human and teach it to save the lives of others fated to live. Fate and I reached an agreement to rewrite your Fate to live as my son and save countless lives.

“But now…now she is changing the deal.”

I stared at my father in disbelief. As hard as it was to hear what he had said, I knew in my heart it was true. It was like being acknowledged for what I was for the first time, a realization of, ‘oh yes. That is what I am and what I have always been’ and through that realization, I finally felt right and at home in my body. It was at once freeing and frightening.

“I am not changing the deal,” said Fate. “We agreed you would raise him and he would work with you. We never agreed that he’d be immortal. He has outlived any normal human, living with you for over 200 years. I have been more than generous. Now the time has come. You must harvest his soul and usher him into the afterlife.”

Death looked at me with sorrow in his burning eyes; the normal red-hot flame glowed with a cool blue. “I am sorry, son. I hope you know that I meant what I said. I hope you understand why I have to do this.”

He grabbed his scythe and walked slowly to my bedside. I stared up at him and felt strangely at peace.

“I love you, dad,” I said as I grabbed his free hand. “Don’t blame yourself. You’ve given me a good life.”

“I love you too, son,” he said as he raised his scythe. Then, with dizzying speed, he placed my hand on the handle of the scythe and brought the blade down upon himself, his soul—or lack thereof—coalesced with the fabric of the universe, and he was gone.

I was left holding the scythe.

“That fool,” shouted Fate. “That blasted fool!”

“What—what the hell was that? Where did he go?” I asked, still unsure of what I had just seen.

“The bastard did the impossible so that you might live,” said Fate. “He made you harvest his soul thereby instilling you with his power.”

“I don’t understand,” I said. “He’s gone? Just like that? He can’t be gone, he’s Death!”

“Not anymore,” Fate said with a sigh. “You’re Death now, child.”

*****

THE END.