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It was a realm of shadow and cold. Darkness stretched for miles, beyond what the eye could see.
He stood by the river, a tall, imposing figure, an inky blot against the shadows of the realm. How long had he been standing there? He no longer knew. His clothes had long dried, no longer cloaked in the murky dampness of the river. His memories had long evaporated, and with it any sense of purpose. It would have felt liberating were it not for the lingering ache of loss and longing he could not explain.
He gazed into the river, its shimmering waters reflecting memories of a life that came before. Did he want to go back? Or did he want to go forwards? Neither was forthcoming with detail, and so he remained rooted to his spot by the river, unmoving, as souls passed him by, shrieking with the grief for the past or clawing desperately into a future where somehow, the unknown was less frightening than what had already transpired in a past life.
Sometimes, he would be called by some unseen force to the side of dying souls who lay in the inbetween, caught between life and death, unsure of which to choose. What a strange choice to be given. How strange for it to be a choice at all.
Most of them chose life, as was expected. (Expected by whom, he wondered?) Often, he found himself arguing for the side of life, allowing the souls a glimpse of the desolate realm he wandered in an effort to dissuade them from death, and urging them to stop struggling against the embrace of life when it was so eager to welcome them back.
The strange soul he was unable to forget had passed by not so long ago. He had, as always, presented them with their choices. The soul had regarded him patiently with big, sorrowful eyes as he spoke, as if it had already made its choice and was listening to him out of mere courtesy. In the end, the soul had looked into his eyes, clear as day, ghostly features shimmering as its mouth curled into a sad smile. I choose death, it had whispered, reached a hand up, just hovering near the shadowy outline of his jaw, that I may see you again.
Instead of growing corporeal, joining the ranks of his shadowed realm, the soul had simply faded away right before it touched him, the ghostly brush of fingertips a familiar whisper against his skin. He often wondered what had become of the soul, and why he’d felt like a piece of himself had been torn away as it drifted into nothingness.
When he felt restless, he would wander the shadows, peering at half formed faces hidden by shadow, hoping for a glimpse of that familiar smile, warm eyes which didn’t shrink away in fear. Perhaps it was fortunate he did not remember enough to understand the depth of anguish he felt.
A brilliant light shimmered into being at the corner of his eye, growing brighter as it approached, and he turned to regard the figure, obscured in blinding light, who had come to stand beside him. He recognized the light immediately, not by name, only by what it brought - and turned away.
The faceless light spoke first in a voice filled with tremulous wonderment.
“At last I’ve found you.”
Found him?
“You should not be here.”
The faceless light stepped closer, unafraid. “And yet, here I am.”
“This place begets loneliness, and so alone I shall remain.”
A pause.
“Is that truly what you wish for?”
It was the longest exchange with anyone he’d had in a long time, and company was not unwelcome. It was simply the sudden and unexpected flood of despair that had bubbled up in response to the other’s presence, and he was not ready to face it just yet.
However, the figure showed no sign of leaving. He turned to peer at the light, who was instead reaching a tentative hand towards him, clearly wanting to pull him into its welcoming warmth. He thought he should be flinching back, but oddly enough, it pleased him to be seen.
“What have you come for?”
“I come to offer you salvation.”
“Salvation?” He chuckled, ruefully turned the word over in his mouth.
“There is no salvation for beings such as myself.”
“Do you not wish to be free of this place? Allow me to grant it to you.”
“I am waiting,” he said, after a moment’s hesitation. “I do not know what for. I only know that I cannot leave until I have found it.” He turned away, intending to go, but hesitated after taking a step and spoke without turning around.
“I am grateful for such kindness,” he said. “It is not often I receive the grace of one such as yourself. However, this place will only taint you. Go now, and consider this my kindness to you.”
“I am safe,” the light replied, reaching out to place a hand on his shoulder, “I am safe when I am with you. I know I will not be harmed.”
“You know nothing of this place,” he murmured, sorrowful. “It pleases me to know you have not been touched by such sorrow in your life.”
“Tell me, then,” the light spoke. “Tell me of your sorrows, that I may understand.”
He did not know why, but he felt compelled to speak.
“As all beings that came before,” he began, “I was a being of love. But so consumed by passion was I that I lost sight of what it meant to live. Too late did I realize my folly. The life drained slowly from me over seven agonizing years, and I was already at the point of no return. Before I knew it, I had become Death, died of a broken heart.”
Death sighed, smoky mist curling upwards on a defeated exhale.
“I have not been robbed of life. Rather, it is I who do not deserve its gentle touch.”
For a minute, neither spoke. Silence gathered around them, thick and suffocating.
He does not know what to say. What did I expect –
“I disagree,” Life said, voice drifting kind and comforting like a warm spring breeze over his cold exterior.
“You have lived life to its fullest extent. How beautiful it was that you lived to love, loved so deeply that you were willing to let it destroy you. I am sorry your story ended the way it did, but I do not see it as a waste. You have done life great justice in the way you lived it.”
A breath, carrying the whisper of a confession.
“And even now, I would be nothing without you.”
Death raised his head, finally turning look towards Life, his expression pained and pleading. It seemed as if these very words could bring him purpose.
Life looked into the smoky distance, wistful.
“Others... in their lives, they all take me for granted. They do not love freely, they tell themselves there is plenty of time to love later. I can tell you that there is never later, there is only too late.”
He smiled sadly and shook his head, a faraway look on his face.
“Why do they not allow themselves to feel the gift of emotion? How unfair it is that fading memories trigger the greatest of pain.”
The soft voice grew more and more familiar, features taking shape as Death unwittingly stepped closer to the light. Life turned his large, expressive eyes on him.
“But you are there to remind them. Death makes them see the value of life, that they may treasure the others by their side before time runs out. It is you who values me for what I am, and for that I am grateful.”
Death shuddered, a deep sigh that rattled through the gaunt frame of his body, youthful face belying the weariness that had made a home deep in his bones. He took another step, completely ensconced in the warm embrace of light. He gazed upon Life, wonderingly. “And for me?” he asked, trembling. “Is it too late?”
Life considered him for a moment, and he shook with the effort of not falling apart right there and then.
“I do remember,” Life mused, in lieu of an answer, “when my past life was taken from me, I was not snatched from the hands of life, nor thrown into the jaws of death. Rather, I was gathered gently into a comforting darkness by a pair of hands that seemed so familiar to me – accompanied by the ghost of a despondent smile on lips I wish I had known in my lifetime.” He paused to study Death, looking cautiously hopeful.
“And a face... for so long I have been unable to recall the face that greeted me since I passed through the shimmering waters of this river. But now,” Life peered into the face of Death and simply smiled, shy but steady.
“I do believe it has come back to me now.”
He looked up to stare Death in the eye with a sudden fiery intensity, as if willing him to understand, to remember. “Who is it that you are waiting for?” he asked.
Death hesitated, eyes tracing over Life’s features. Realization crept slow but sure into his mind, much like the insistent and forgiving warmth of sunrise melting the harsh frost of winter until new life was undeniable. And suddenly, it dawned on him, brilliant and golden and standing right before him.
“You have found me,” he murmured.
His eyes were blurry, cheeks wet with an eternity of unshed tears, and he found himself in Life’s embrace before he could crumple to the ground.
“Perhaps,” he mused, laughing wetly into Life’s shoulder, “I am not beyond salvation after all.”
You are my salvation, he thought, and despite going unspoken, Life understood the sheer emotion swimming in his eyes and graced him with a smile so bright it awakened his cold, lifeless heart once more.
“I have my purpose, as do you. Our fates are intertwined as such.”
“Never leave me again,” Death begged, and a flash of pain crossed Life’s face before it smoothed into something regretful, the promise of atonement firm in his gaze. “Never,” he promised.
“For as long as there is Death, there shall be Life.”
