Your sister…
The shock removed my ability to speak, with the viciousness of a pair of pliers in the right hands. Eira and I were both reduced to a tomb-like silence, as this new reality began to unfold and sink in. The Word had been quietly watching through Lumi, waiting for her to find Death so it could reveal itself and address her. Death. The Word’s sister.
We’d come here searching for the truth and Death’s help, and I had the vague feeling that we were already getting more than we’d bargained for. I wondered if Lumi even knew about this connection between the Word and Death. Come to think of it, she probably didn’t. She would’ve certainly told us already. No, the Word had kept many secrets from her—we’d known that before. The swamp witches were individually limited in their knowledge of the Word, as it only gave them what it saw fit, what it deemed necessary for them to know.
The Word rarely, if ever, intervened. That much had been made obvious with the near-extinction of its precious swamp witches during Azazel’s reign. For a long time, Lumi had been the only one left, trapped in the basement of the Exiled Maras, on Neraka. This situation had to be quite the cosmic exception, to drive the Word out of its hiding place and into an open conversation with Death herself. Its friggin’ sister!
I didn’t know where this would take us, in the end. All my hopes and fears had been rammed into the back seat of my consciousness, while I watched the reunion of two of the most powerful entities. For a moment, I even forgot why I’d come here, in the first place.
Taeral
“We need to talk, sister,” the Word said. Lumi was merely a conduit.
“I take it you’ve noticed my absence from this whole Hermessi nonsense, this time around,” Death replied as she casually walked back to her throne and sat down. She seemed more relaxed now, and I wasn’t sure whether that would work out in our favor.
“At least three dimensions have noticed it.” The Word sighed. “What are you doing here? What are all those spirits doing in your rooms, just standing there? Not to mention the others, outside. Why did it have to take me coming here, along with these people, to make you talk to us? What happened, Sǐwáng?”
Death took a deep breath, closing her eyes for a moment. “The souls in here keep me company. They’re all scholars and scientists, the greatest minds of their generations. They’re entertaining my lonely mind, in a way. I had them brought over when I first moved in. The ones outside? Well, sometimes I still go out and reap people myself, just to keep myself active. I get bored.”
“Why haven’t they moved on?” the Word asked.
“I can’t help them move on. My Reapers can now do the one thing I cannot, anymore.”
“Take souls into the next world?”
She smiled, though the sadness in her strange eyes persisted. “I suppose it’s time I told you. You do remember Brendel, right?”
I nodded. “We’re currently dealing with her as the ringleader of the ritual Hermessi.”
She and Lumi frowned at me. Once again, I’d spoken out of turn without even realizing it, while Eira was muted and still, by my side, her hand still holding mine. I figured it was the physical contact between us that did something to my nerves, giving me enough courage to open my mouth, whether Death and the Word liked it or not.
“The boy speaks the truth,” the Word said, looking at Death. “She’s spearheading this ritual.”
“She led the previous ritual, too. And it was her first. The Hermessi before her, the ones I destroyed for doing the same foolish thing, repeatedly, were just as hard-headed. Frankly, I’m baffled. Unfortunately, they can’t be permanently wiped out. If I destroy them, others must be created so that life can be sustained. Normally, I would’ve done things my way, this time around as well… but Brendel, that scoundrel… she did something,” Death replied, her left elbow on the gilded armrest. “She took something from me.”
I remembered the pictures of her, the images we’d seen on our way in. There was an object missing here. “Your scythe,” I murmured, drawing another scowl from her.
Death scoffed. “That’s right. Thieron. My scythe. The source of many of my powers… abilities I haven’t been able to enjoy for over four million years.”
“Brendel took Thieron?” the Word asked, eyes wide and luminous. “How in the world did you let that happen?!”
“Don’t you dare judge me!” Death snarled, her voice thundering across the circular hall. The black marble floor trembled, and the cherry trees quivered, pink petals flying away in droves. The illustrated cranes hid deeper inside the crowns, squawking nervously. “Brendel was a quick study, what can I say? She’d picked up a few tricks from elder Hermessi along the way… a sprinkle of knowledge of previous ritual attempts was all she needed. She made sure she was close to me when I stopped the ritual,” she explained, her voice strained with shame and regret. “The pulse I release in order to do that, in order to kill Hermessi and make room for others to take their place, it takes a toll on me. It wears me out. It weakens me. And Brendel was physically too close to me when I did it—enough to not be harmed by it. As soon as I sat down to take a breath, she swooped in and snatched… she literally snatched Thieron from my hands!”
Silence settled over us. I tried to envision that moment. I couldn’t ignore the sympathy I felt toward Death. Imagining what that must’ve been like, I sort of understood her plight and, most importantly, her shame. An entity as powerful and as timeless as her, bested by a ruthless Hermessi. It didn’t seem that far-fetched now.
“By the time I sprang to my feet, she’d vanished,” Death continued. She gave Lumi an apologetic smile. “I don’t know what she did with it. Rest assured, I’ve searched for it, for thousands of years. I’ve had my Reapers search for it, as well. We’ve yet to find it. Chances are she broke it into its three pieces, since she couldn’t destroy it. This was the only way she could stop me from intervening again.”
“And she spent the past four million years awake, grooming the newer Hermessi into her cult and waiting for the many others to awaken with the Blackout,” the Word concluded, nodding slowly. “You said Brendel cannot destroy Thieron.”
Death shook her head. “It’s an extension of me. It’s impossible. They’re just natural elements. They cannot do anything with Thieron, either. They can’t use it.”
“She broke it into three pieces?” the Word asked.
“I made my scythe a long time ago, brother, and imbued it with the most intense and dangerous parts of my nature. The way you see me now is… how shall I put it? The basic version. I cannot move with as much ease as I did before, but I have mobility. I can select Reapers the moment they’re born, and I can punish them. My attention span is, sadly, shorter. I cannot kill my Reapers, but they can kill one another, at least, if they have to. I do advocate for peaceful discussion, but sometimes, all that’s left is violence.”
“You cannot kill ghouls, either, then,” I said.
She shook her head again. “I would’ve wiped them all out by now. I’d let some of them live, four million years ago. I’d been curious, at the time, as to what they would become. They bore and irritate me right now, but they’re the least of my problems. I cannot kill the Hermessi, either. Imagine that. Death, unable to inflict death herself.”
“You have four Hermessi posted outside your door,” the Word replied. “How did that happen?”
Death grinned. “I cannot kill them, but the ones I get my hands on… well, let’s just say I can still coerce them, depending on how strong they are. Mortis was almost destroyed during the previous ritual. These four were made shortly afterward, when I retreated here. They’ve yet to betray me, and they were young and impressionable enough to serve me from the beginning. Times have changed, though, and I’m pretty sure at least one of them has been sympathizing with Brendel’s cause. I suppose they’ll skip out on me eventually, but until then, I’m pleased with their service.”
“What about the three pieces?” the Word asked.
“Yes. Thieron was made from three elements, each bearing its own name. Eirexis, the handle, is made from the bone of a stone dragon. They’re extinct now, but they used to terrorize millions of worlds in the Supernatural Dimension. I was quite fond of them, and I reaped them myself whenever one of them died. I remember crying when I took the last one. Even Death cannot interfere in the natural order, you see, not without potentially dire repercussions.”
Eira cleared her throat. “What does Eirexis do? You said you imbued them with some of your powers.”
“Ah, she has a voice!” Death chuckled. “You don’t need to know what the pieces do, my darling. Now, Zetos, the blade: that was made from tibisium, an indestructible metal I harvested when the In-Between was still a child. I found tibisium on most of the younger planets, closer to their cores. I think one might still find it in that twenty-planet solar system that GASP has been looking for,” she continued, smiling at me. “You see, that cluster isn’t just the ritual’s location, chosen by the Hermessi. It’s also one of the richest planet systems ever born. You’ll find resources there, valuable and powerful, not seen anywhere else in the In-Between.”
My mind was saturated with new information, yet I was hungry for more. Everything she was telling us opened new doors to incredible opportunities for exploration—chances we’d miss, unless we stopped this ritual.
“Phyla is, perhaps, the most valuable,” Death added. “The gemstone that is mounted on Zetos. It’s home to Supreme Death, the one ability I need to destroy the Hermessi, and the only one you’re allowed to know about, now, to make you understand its importance. There have been tales written about me over the eons. Some might have survived to this day, in worlds that your GASP friends have yet to discover. They’ll tell you more about Thieron and its components… if you live past this ritual, that is. You won’t, unless you stop it. What a conundrum.” She laughed bitterly.
“It won’t affect you, so why should you care, right?” I snapped, anger taking over my self-control and tearing it to shreds. “You’ve been holed up in here for millions of years, not giving a crap, right? Who cares if we all die, right? You can keep sulking here…”
“Again with the tone,” Death replied dangerously. “Why did I just go to the trouble of telling you about Thieron, Taeral? Because I like entertaining uninvited guests?!”
