I closed my eyes, my hand twitching toward her hair, the soft strands still damp from the sweat of her nightmare. The need to touch her was nearly unbearable.
But I couldn’t.
I was Death. I was the end.
I have been a bystander in the lives of others for far too long. I have watched as mortals lived and died, loved and lost, but it was always through glass, always from the outside.
Her scent lingered in the air, sweet and comforting, mixing with the heavy scent of rain and the lingering energy of the storm. I felt that pull again, that ache deep within me. She didn’t know it, but she was everything I couldn’t have. Everything I wanted. She was the one thing that made me feel as though I wasn’t trapped in an endless cycle.
I hated how badly I longed to know what it was like to be human, to experience life the way she did. To love her, with no eternity standing in the way. No curse to shadow every touch, every fleeting moment. No power to steal the simplicity of existence, to feel joy, pain, loss… to feel something unburdened by consequence.
Fate told me it was all right to speak the truth aloud. To admit that I was a plague who dreamt of being a person.
Astoria believed she was cursed, but at least she could give life. Perhaps that was the morose irony of it—that in trying to create something new, I would only leave behind grief; ruin as a consequence of mercy.
In all my eternity, I’d never been given a choice. Or a thread, as Feo named it. Her shelves, filled with tragic tomes chronicling humanity's bitter beginnings and sweet ends, reminded me daily of what I could never have.
Born from the very fabric of the universe, I was created to govern and to balance life’s fragile creation. There was no room for wishful thinking, no space for idle fantasies of grandeur. Yet, as I glanced around my room, I realize that maybe my obsession began long before Astoria ever crossed my path.
Her body shifted slightly, and I froze, stilling myself in an instant, but she didn’t wake. Her face remained soft, the hint of vulnerability still visible even in sleep.
I couldn’t help but think that this is what I wanted…
What I could never have.
Her life. Her heartbeat. Her fragility.
If I could live for just one day as a mortal, just to know what it was like to love without restraint, to experience the finite, I would give anything. I would trade it all, the power, the knowledge, the eternity, just for that one fleeting moment.
It made no sense. I exhaled slowly, letting my gaze linger on her once more. There was something about her presence here, in my bed, in my space, that unsettled me in the most profound way.
She had no idea.
But that was the thing with mortals. They never knew how much power they had, how they could change everything with a smile, with a word, with a single touch.
And in this moment, I could feel it. I could feel how close I was to losing control. How close I was to breaking every rule I had ever made, to defying everything I was.
But I would let her sleep.
For now.
And when she awoke, I would be Death again.
A sharp howl pierced the skies, the cries of the dead slicing their way into my mind once more. The sound was a cacophony of lost souls, each one reaching out in the darkness, pleading, yearning, needing the final release that only I could give. My head pounded, my skin vibrating with that cosmic itch, the persistent and gnawing reminder that I was neveroff duty.
I groaned, slumping back into the pillows, careful not to wake Astoria. She still slept peacefully beside me, her breath soft and steady. The wailing grew louder, more insistent, pushing against the walls of my mind, crashing through the protective barrier I’d built. I knew better than to ignore it. Souls that had already passed, displaced, lingering in the realm of the living…
They needed to be released. Their restlessness had been growing for days, a plague of unrest that I had been avoiding. And it was because of her.
Astoria.
In my care for her, I’d forgotten. How many days had I laid unconscious in bed? My body wore the marks reminding me that the longer I ignored them, the stronger they’d grow. Not all souls passed peacefully from this life, and there would soon be a war at my door if I didn’t see to it.
I clenched my fists, feeling the pressure in my chest intensify. It was a deep and oppressive force. With a slow, agonizing breath, I pushed myself up, wincing at the sharp stab of pain that shot through my back, a reminder of the toll this cursed existence had on me. My body was not made for comfort. It had never been. It was designed for service, fordeath.
I stole once last glance over at Astoria, her features soft and serene in the quiet of the room. I could feel her warmth still radiating from where she lay, and for a second, I wanted to crawl back beside her, to forget about the cries, to pretend that for once, I wasn’t needed.
But then the wails surged again, a piercing shriek that rattled through me like a broken chord. The souls were restless.They were ready.
