What a beautiful light.
The world was fuzzy and dark, save for the one bright light he saw in front of him. Era started to reach out for it, but was stopped by a cold, hard hand.
Blinking to clear his vision, he found that the light he had seen was a candle, a candle that sat upon a book, and the hand upon his belonged to the skeletal figure of Death.
“Death,” he said with muted happiness, “I missed you terribly.”
“Eravisté,” he said, nodding in greeting, “as you can see, you are not yet dead.”
“Really? But I’m here again.”
“Yet your candle still burns.” He stood up, helping Era to his feet. Era saw that the candle before him was, indeed, his.
“I hate to be a bother,” Era said, “but I would still like some answers from the last time I was here.”
“I suspected as much.” Death walked slowly down the halls of books, Era following close behind him, until they reached a bookshelf he had never noticed – or found – before. Death reached up to the top shelf, grabbing a handful of papers. “I would suggest you not look directly at these,” he gently warned him, “the Akashic records were not designed for human eyes.”
Era nodded, following Death back to his book. The Reaper gently plucked the candle off of the tome, opening it wide. From the glance he managed to get before the pages started to make his head hurt, Era noticed that most of the book had been ripped out.
Death held out a page to the inner spine, and the page fused itself back inside. He continued this way for a while as Era watched in fascination. “I don’t remember anything yet,” he said.
“These are very early memories,” Death explained. “Few humans remember this far back.”
“Can you… prepare me for what I’m about to recall?”
The Grim Reaper nodded. “I suppose I owe you as much. But I’ll get to that soon enough.”
As the pages kept re-fusing into the book, Death talked slowly and calmly, as he always did. “You are the eldest son of Daniella and Owen Baines, Lucien Dior Baines. You attended the Mage Academy in Elsequaire, as you are aware, from the time you were five years of age to your Valedictorian graduation at age eighteen.
“Right before your graduation, the Archmage at the time died at age 92 of heart complications, leaving a rather large gap in your country’s political spectrum. The King, Arcturus IV, decided to bring someone younger in to fill the position, both to avoid potential health issues and, to quote him, bring some ‘fresh blood’ into the castle. So once you had graduated, you were appointed Archmage.”
Era stared wide-eyed, agape at this revelation. “I was the Archmage…?”
“This was not pleasing to the former Archmage’s apprentice, Caine Lapointe. He thought you an usurper, but did not protest, as you held the King’s favor. He became your apprentice in turn.
“You held that position for four years without incident, working in relative harmony, before you decided to try some very risky experiments.”
Era felt a sense of dread crawl icily up his spine as his memories began to resurface. “I wanted more than power,” he whispered, “I wanted to be immortal. I wanted a legacy.”
“So, rather than settling for a more metaphorical immortality, you decided to truly live forever.”
“I tried to cheat Death – you,” he whispered shakily, “I tried to become a Lich.”
“Precisely. For an entire year, you focused on finding a way to bind your soul to your very bones,” Death explained, “so that, upon your ‘death,’ your body would decay, but you would continue to remain, for all intents and purposes, alive.”
Suddenly Era fell to his knees, shaking violently. “And… and Caine…”
“Yes, you were hesitant to use yourself as a test subject,” Death explained calmly, “so instead—”
“I remember!!” he screamed, grabbing his head. “I remember… I wish… I don’t want to remember this…”
“Even if you did not succeed in becoming a Lich,” Death continued, “you did succeed in being the first mage to successfully exorcise a soul from its body and put it back in. Even then, the only reason you did not become a Lich was due to my intervention.”
“Are you… trying to make me feel better?” Era asked, tears streaming down his face. “I appreciate it, but… this… he had every right, every right to hate me as he does… I still hear his screams from when I…” he moaned weakly.
“The experiments you performed on Caine Lapointe made him able to see more than he should have,” the Reaper explained. “I pulled out the pages of your book as punishment for your attempt to cheat me. There should have been no trace of your existence left on your world. And yet, because of his sight beyond his home plane, he was able to retain knowledge of you.”
“Then why did you bring me here?” he asked darkly. “Why not kill me, or make me fade into nothing?”
“You are aware of your extreme distaste for questioning things from your time here, I am sure,” he said. “That is because I find that asking questions in a world such as this, one that inherently makes little sense to any rational mind, is dangerous. Things could change here, most likely for the worse.” He hesitated. “You, however, are the one curiosity I indulged in. I could not kill you, not while your candle was still lit, but I did not know what to do with you, either. So I brought you here.” He finished putting the final pages in the book, setting it back upon the shelf. “Humans were always fascinating to me. I wanted to know if, perhaps, I could experience what it was like to be without purpose vicariously through you.”
Era sniffed, wiping his eyes with his sleeve. “And did you?” he muttered.
“No,” he replied. “I know nothing more about being human than the day you arrived.” Holding out a hand to Era, which he shakily accepted, Death pulled him back to his feet. “I do not regret bringing you here, though.”
“I wish,” Era started, pausing to take a deep, shuddering breath, “I wish I hadn’t gone on this silly quest. I spent so long trying to find myself, and now I want to forget it all again.”
“They say ‘ignorance is bliss,’” Death said. “I always wondered if it was true.”
“Not really,” Era replied. “Then you’re always wanting to know what you shouldn’t. Either way, you are left unhappy.”
“Forgive me if I have caused you undue pain.”
“It… no, it’s alright. You have been very fair with me, even kind. I owe you no ill will for giving me what I asked for.”
“That is good to know,” the Reaper said. “Our time together, however, draws to a close.”
“So I was here for three years?” Era asked quickly.
“Yes,” Death replied, “and you have not aged a day in this realm. Nothing dies here. Nothing grows.”
“And I am about to… go back?”
“Yes.”
“One final thing,” he said. “I have your staff. Scythe. Whichever it is. What was that for?”
“It is a relic of times long past,” he said, “when the world was young and deaths were not nearly so common. I used to visit humans in person before the task simply got out of hand.”
“Hence the legends of the Reaper,” Era said with a fragile smile.
“Precisely.” Death put a bony hand on Era’s shoulder. “You may keep it, if you wish. I believe it has more meaning to you now than it ever did to me.”
“Thank you,” he whispered. A searing pain suddenly began to bloom in his chest, making him cry out in pain.
“You are becoming aware again,” Death said. “This near-death experience is over.”
“I’ll see you again,” Era said through gritted teeth, “I promise. You won’t be cheated again.”
“I look forward to it.” With that, the world darkened and faded, and Era felt as if he was being sucked back into himself, still impaled, still looking Crisilla directly in the eye.
Shaking violently and dripping blood from her mouth, Crisilla coughed out a single sentence. “Big brother,” she whispered fondly, barely masking her pain.
Crisilla then fell limp, supported only by the blade in her ribs.
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