“Of course! I told you, I’ve been preparing for this for a long time, my darlings! I might lack coherence in outlining the outcome for you all, but it doesn’t matter. Let the games begin! Ready yourselves, because time isn’t on your side, and neither are your Reaper friends.”
“Reaper friends?” I wondered aloud. “Friends? Plural?”
“Are you all prepared?” the Soul Crusher asked, ignoring my questions.
Taeral sighed, his head lowered. “Does it even matter?”
Did it? No, it didn’t. Ready or not, we had to do this. Whatever the Soul Crusher wanted to throw at us, we had to figure it out. No matter what, our only chance of survival and success was to jump through his hoops and solve whatever riddles he’d prepared. The prize at the end wasn’t just Zetos. It was the one step closer we needed to get Thieron completed.
The fate of our worlds had been reduced to our ability to overcome the challenges of an ancient Reaper that had spent millions of years in complete isolation, mostly on the bottom of this ocean. Varga was right. This guy was sick, and he held our lives in his Reaper hands.
Seeley
The Soul Crusher’s blast had knocked me and the Widow Maker out. By the time we’d come to, Taeral and his crew had vanished, leaving us in this coral room with the old iron box. Fortunately for the both of us, we didn’t have issues with the water temperature down here, or any need for breathing devices. We were an ethereal presence, stepping into the living dimension as interactive visitors.
What worried me was the fact that I couldn’t see Taeral anywhere. “Where’d they go?” I asked, shaking myself out of the daze. The liquid mass around me slowed me down a little, I noticed, though not enough to pose any kind of issue.
“I think the Soul Crusher took ’em,” the Widow Maker replied. He stilled upon noticing something I’d completely missed. The coral room had changed its color.
“How did I not see this?” I murmured, staring at it. The dark mineral purple was gone. Every single inch of this place was glowing white, as if lit up from inside. The coral seemed to have been carved out from alabaster, its crooked fingers stretching over one another, glimmering softly around us. “Why is it reacting like this?”
“I’m no expert, but I’m guessing it’s the Soul Crusher.”
The Widow Maker’s reply didn’t feel all that helpful, I thought. “It’s a good thing you’re not a marine biologist,” I muttered, though the joke slipped right past him. He’d been locked inside Eirexis for far too long to be aware of human development in the Earthly Dimension. He had a lot of catching up to do.
“Why didn’t you help them back there?” he asked, his arms crossed. Suddenly, I was at fault.
“Death didn’t give me a green light. I couldn’t.”
“They could’ve gotten themselves killed, Seeley. Even I was having a hard time with those things. I mean, what the hell is Death doing with these people?”
I shrugged. “I told you. She’s put strict limits on my interference. You know what the deal is, how we can’t break too many rules. The universal balance is still fragile.”
“Ugh, the universal balance. Right. The single most unexplained phenomena in existence, by which we all must abide as agents of Death. I know you can’t see it right now, but my eyes are rolling so hard they hurt,” he shot back. “You know what? She invoked the universal balance when she got me to tie myself to Eirexis, and now she won’t even talk to me because, spoiler alert, it might affect the universal balance! Pardon me, but I’m pretty tired of this.”
“Me too,” I said. “But there’s a lot at stake right now. If the Hermessi go ahead with this ritual, it’ll put her at odds with the cosmos itself. You know better than most what that entails.”
He nodded slowly. “Yeah. I get that it all functions on chaos and free will, but it knew the Hermessi would try this ritual crap, over and over. Why didn’t it do more about it? Why toss it all in Death’s lap?”
“Based on what I’ve already told you, I think it’s pretty clear that the universe did put some measures in place. Which is why I’m out here protecting Taeral and his crew.”
“That’s a piss-poor job you’re doing.”
“Hey! Again. For the umpteenth time, my ability to intervene is limited,” I snapped.
“Right, right. Universal balance and all that tired crap. Got it,” the Widow Maker grumbled and turned around several times, as if looking for something—or someone. “Hey! Soul Crusher! You took our people! Get your ass out here and face me!” he shouted.
As if summoned, a holographic image of the Soul Crusher appeared, hovering inches above the metal box. I found myself speechless at the sight of him. The Widow Maker was memorable with his physical secrecy, covered in leather from head to toe. The Soul Crusher was quite the sight on his own—tall and lanky, tightly wrapped in white strips of leather, none wider than a couple of inches. His body was covered from his toes and fingers, but only up to his bony shoulders. His collarbones poked out against his diaphanous skin, his long neck reminding me of an ancient Egyptian bust of Nefertiti, once human queen of an Earthly kingdom.
The Soul Crusher had a beautiful face, soft and oval, but with sharp cheeks and deep-set eyes made of galaxies, like mine. His nose was straight, its blade giving off a pearlescent shimmer. Every thread in his hair seemed to have been made from mother-of-pearl, combed neatly back and evenly reaching down to his nape. I’d never seen a creature like this before—significantly taller than most Reapers I’d met, with long limbs and slender fingers, as if torn out of a children’s book illustration. His ears were long and pointy, with pearls embedded along the auricle and all the way down to the lobe, like natural piercings. His eyebrows were raised, as if he’d been naturally designed with a superiority syndrome.
Despite his delicate and sparkling appearance, I figured the Soul Crusher must’ve earned his name by deeds, and not by physique. He sneered at the Widow Maker and me, raising his hands in a welcoming gesture.
“Gentlemen, please, there is no need for name calling,” the Soul Crusher said. His eyes found me, and chills trickled down my spine. Rarely had another Reaper made me feel like this. The Widow Maker was intimidating due to his size and abilities—in contrast, I had a feeling the Soul Crusher’s greatest strength was his mind and the way he used it as a deadly weapon. He had “sociopath” written all over him. “You… I don’t know you,” he added, shifting his focus to the Widow Maker. “You, on the other hand, I see your mouth is as foul as ever.”
“Where are they?” the Widow Maker asked, unimpressed.
“Millions of years of not seeing each other, and that’s all you want to know? I’m offended,” the Soul Crusher replied.
“Answer the question, and I promise I’ll ask you about what you’ve been up to. Though, to be honest, and knowing you as well as I do, I assume I won’t be surprised,” the Widow Maker said.
The Soul Crusher sighed, shaking his head. “They’re in the box, with me. They have a challenge to go through if they’re to get Zetos. Come on, Widow, I thought you knew that.”
“And what’s with all the glowy stuff?” Widow asked.
“It’s the best I can do in terms of protection while they complete their tasks,” the Soul Crusher replied. “I’m not as gifted as you are in that department, so I hope you’ll supplement my efforts. Well, you and that hunky youngster you brought along.”
Suddenly, I was blushing, as the Soul Crusher gave me a devious smile. I didn’t like his attention on me—it felt cold and deranged, as if, any minute now, he’d whip out his scythe and proceed to slice my head off.
“Be nice, Soul,” Widow shot back. “Seeley here is an envoy of Death.”
“Ah. Death. I take it she’s still not into the whole Hermessi-wiping-out-the-entire-universe thing, huh?” Soul chuckled.
“Would you be?” I asked.
He thought about it for a moment. “Nope. They’re mindless goons, and they need to be taught a lesson, once and for all. I assume that’s why she sent that Taeral fella over here, right?”
I couldn’t help but smile, genuinely impressed by the speed with which he’d identified Taeral’s true potential. The Fire Star prince had no idea himself, not even after learning about his own Hermessi heritage—how could he? No one had explained the genetic details that made him so important to Death and this mission.
