Forest

Ra’azel ran, carving runes as he put distance between himself and True Death. He was nearly finished, his strings sinking into the space around him as he avoided trees, burrowing a hole through whatever this piece of reality was. He feared that he knew what it was. He could feel it in his soul, there was a finality to this place. He couldn’t put it into words, and he had no desire to even attempt to. All he wanted to do was be free of this forest. He felt colder and colder with every passing moment, a sensation of mortality hung in the air, as if to announce to everyone and everything who found themselves in this place that they were small. That nothing could escape a final death.

His runes flashed in front of him, sinking into the Space and vanishing, preparing the way for his escape. And then they were on him, as if the distance he had made mattered not at all.

The wolf launched itself at him, its form at least twice Ra’azel’s size, and quick. Almost with no warning, it had crossed half the distance to him before Ra’azel noticed it was there.

Ra’azel panicked, he tried to evade knowing that he wouldn’t be able to do it in time, and was surprised when the Reaper’s jaws missed him, closing on empty air with a loud thud of teeth smashing against one another.

Ra’azel was launched back through the air so fast that he barely tracked the surrounding shooting past. He smashed into a tree and it splintered around him without him even feeling it, sending him into a spin. He crashed to the ground, the world around him trembling. For a moment he thought he saw flashes of a different landscape, but quickly it was squashed by the dark forest around him.

He didn’t feel injured, no, his new body was sturdy. He laughed, a pure sound climbing up and out of his throat. He hadn’t felt that. There was so much power in this body, he didn’t need to fear anything.

And then reality hit him, the dark forest, the True Death stalking it. There was something to fear after all.

He raised his head and saw a dark shape charging through the forest, coming after him. He saw the Reaper clearly, and he saw the Scythe following closely behind, along with the third one, the woman. The bone weapon in the Scythe’s hand carried the weight of an execution, just looking at it made him feel as if he should surrender. Give up and accept the finality of True Death. They were coming to end him, the last free member of his kind. And that made him angry. He hadn’t survived for this long just to fail now. To vanish and be no more. He was a Ra of his people. A master of the runesmithing art.

He pulled out a small sphere, primed it then swung his arm. He intended to lob it in the general direction as he usually did, but instead his body moved almost on its own.

His eyes focused, narrowed at his target, and his arm snapped forward in a display of coordination that he had never witnessed, let alone been capable of before. The sphere flew true, hitting the Reaper in the head and exploding in a cloud of orange fire.

For a moment, Ra’azel was stunned. He looked at the alien arm that was now his, and realized just how little he understood his new body.

He was so used to utilizing constructs to aim for him that he couldn’t believe what he had just done. More that that, he had felt it, the power that rose to the surface, that coursed through this body. It tugged on his will, but he didn’t know how to use it. It was wild, uncontrollable.

He scrambled to his feet, realizing that he was wasting time. He could feel his runes settling into the fabric of this place, but he hadn’t managed to finish his string. This place was isolated, it resisted teleportation or any other kind of attempt to make a hole to another plane.

The author's content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

He turned and ran from True Death in defiance of all he knew and remembered. In the stories, those that ran from True Death fell to the Reaper, and those that accepted met the clean cut of the Scythe. He would do neither. There would be no acceptance of the Scythe’s swing or the cruel end at the maw of the Reaper.

Ra’azel didn’t know if they were the real True Death, but he wasn’t going to stay and find out. He wasn’t going to end here, not like this, not now.

Again, his body adjusted on its own, speeding through forest at speeds that the previous him could’ve only imagined. Every step was sure, perfectly placed. Every time he pushed against the ground, he was sent flying farther than he had ever gone. It was intoxicating, it was almost enough to make him feel like he could fight True Death and win.

He glanced back, his eyes finding his pursuers immediately. He pulled out two more constructs, the last of this type he still had, and threw them in the air.

The hunter drones started firing immediately as they moved, and Ra’azel raised a hand and carved another rune into the Space of the world around him.

With his other hand he pulled out more constructs and threw them on the ground behind him, preparing. Quickly though, he ran out, the last construct he had stored was deployed. He grimaced, but it would have to be enough.

He didn’t know what he was facing, True Death, or at least some kind of an iteration of it. Even if this all was just an illusion, he wouldn’t stay and face the Reaper and Scythe.

Ignorance killed, and Ra’azel wasn’t going to die here, not now when he finally could feel the power of this new Framework.

He carved runes, preparing his escape.

Ryun, as the Reaper, ran after his prey. Every instinct inside of his body screamed to continue the chase, to gnash his teeth and howl as he hunted. The duty of the Aspect of True Death warred with the anger of Ryun Nacht. Both wanted Ra’azel, but for different things. One wanted to finish him, to bring about the end of his existence, the other wanted to break him slowly. To cause pain. To punish and get revenge.

He would’ve indulged, if not for Erdania’s and Selia’s presence. He remembered what he had said to Tali, how he had cautioned her against seeking revenge. He couldn’t stand here and do the same. The yeti would die, but Ryun would not risk him escaping by trying to torture him.

He could taste his fear, and it gladdened him to know that this ancient being was afraid of them. The memories were clashing within him, but he didn’t care.

His Soul was singing as it fully embraced the part of him that was True Death, as they had spread their burden, became three instead of two. Yet in the depths of his Mind and Soul he knew that something was missing. There was too much True Death, and he wasn’t just that. He was more. He only didn’t know what that something that was missing was.

An explosion interrupted his chase, so powerful that the force of it sent him tumbling.

“Ryun?”

“I’m fine,” he sent. Selia appeared next to him, her form lithe and powerful. And Erdania a moment later—she was slower, not as in touch with this place as they were. But she had the luxury of having access to her other powers, unlike them. Their Souls had surrendered fully to True Death, hers was only a small part of it. Her eyes looked ahead as two constructs appeared above the fleeing Ra’azel. They opened fire and Selia blocked with her scythe, then she swung and a crescent of pure black flew out, cutting both constructs apart.

“He’s fleeing,” Erdania said.

“There’s nowhere to run,” Ryun responded.

They were inside their realm, the Final Moment. The instant before the death of all things. The last forest where all things came to die.

“He’s doing something, can’t you feel it?” Selia asked.

As soon as she said it and brought his attention to it, he did feel it. He was doing something to the fabric of this place, their realm. He was trying to escape it. It frustrated Ryun, the fact that he couldn’t touch most of his power, that his Oblivion half felt so drained. He still had conduits, he still had a core, except that all of his being was consumed by True Death, and he didn’t know if he could use it in the same way. His perks, everything that he had gained felt suppressed. As if he was two different beings sharing a Soul.

And he hated that he didn’t have the time to try and find a solution, to consider what had happened. Not even to look at his notifications, because Ra’azel was running.

That made him angrier. For someone to dare and try to escape their death? It was why he existed, he who hunted those who fought death, who—

“Calm,” Selia said. “Anger distracts you. Let’s go.”

He shook his head, took a deep breath and forced himself to push the anger aside. She was right. They had work to do.