"Because I could not stop for Death, He kindly stopped for me; the Carriage held but just Ourselves—and Immortality." -Emily Dickinson

Yuniro's lungs burned with a hate-filled fire, yet he kept on running. He had abandoned the path long ago in favor of this untrod, uneven overgrowth, hoping to dissuade his pursuer. The grass was thick in this part of the forest, some of the blades sharp enough to scratch him, and countless insects waited behind every one to feast on his wounds—or more likely, to obstruct him, flutter into his eyes or, if he was unlucky, his mouth. But Yuniro would've consumed a bucket full of them if it meant getting away from that...that...

He didn't think he could categorize the Thing that stalked him so relentlessly. He didn't really have much capacity for thought at all, at the moment; he was devoting every muscle and every instinct he had on getting away, as fast and as far away as he could. He'd try to process all of this later, once he was safe—if he could ever really be safe again. Probably not, not from that...that...abomination hounding his steps. Running from it at nighttime made things worse, not only because he could hardly see in front of him even with the full moon bared in the black sky, but he also couldn't see That. It could be concealed behind a million different shadows, waiting for him to chance by so it could strike—or it could simply be chasing him, wearing him down, waiting for him to collapse from exhaustion. He couldn't think about that, though; he had to run, that was all there was to it. He had seen what happened to people who didn't.

The overgrowth conspired against him as he swallowed air in feverish gasps. Larger stones barred his way: fences laid down by ancient giants to impede his progress; the smaller ones always found their way to his feet, tripping him or causing him to stomp onto their sharp surface. The roots of trees were like claws reaching out to grab him, and more than a few succeeded. There were holes, too, some deep enough to sink him up to his knee, while others merely inconvenienced him. Yuniro narrowly avoided a bear trap, and carefully skirted his way around a boar-tiger pit, losing precious seconds. He kept running, though, not daring to stop, not even to catch his breath. He almost passed out once or twice, but forced his legs to move, acting on sheer willpower and inexhaustible fear.

The Thing pursuing him trailed behind patiently, pausing to reassert its quarry's position. It leaned against a tree, its touch slowly rotting the wood from contact. The grass beneath its feet withered as it walked by.

Yuniro truly wanted to believe he'd escape this Thing. He encouraged himself by recalling all the other dangers he had survived: he had grown up surrounded by war and yet had either avoided it or integrated himself into it; he had slipped his way through the rigors of academic life and the cutthroat politics of all the various social circles; he had quietly asserted himself among his peers by putting himself where he was needed, avoiding the poverty and vagrancy that affected so many others; he had gained the favor of General Kunzite and had landed a job as warden for his personal fortress...and then there was the time that the Avatar herself (though nobody knew who she was at the time) attacked the fortress with a company of air-benders and even defeated Kunzite. Yuniro had lived through the transition from Beryl to Endymion, ducking away from scrutiny to position himself in less visible services. Even when Motoki's crackdown on Tear of Apsu smuggling took effect, Yuniro managed to turn a profit and open up new opportunities for himself. He still survived when the Tears turned to dust and his lifestyle went belly-up, so there was no reason he wouldn't survive this, too.

But he still ran like one sick with lunacy. He ran because his life depended upon it, because he knew he'd die if he stopped, because this Thing that hunted him was relentless. It had chased him across countries, oceans and vast divides, through countless border crossings and cities and obscure little towns, over a mountain range and into this lonely forest in the middle of nowhere. It would—not—stop. Why it wanted him dead was anyone's guess, not that it mattered. Yuniro could only run, and hope to find some measure of safety.

A large boulder stood in its way. It cracked and shattered from a single touch. A deadly python barred its path, but gave out a croak and slithered back rather than confront it. It moved on—slow, steady, inexorable.

Yuniro was nearly dead when he came across an abandoned cabin in the woods. He didn't expect to find shelter or help in there, but maybe there was something he could use to ward his pursuer off. The door was locked but the wood was rotted and desperation gave him the strength of five men. Inside was a small hallway, a few rooms, and a lantern hooked onto the ceiling. Out the other side was a cask full of sludgy oil, which he set about dousing the cabin with. He was just about to hunt for some flint when he looked out the open door and saw something moving in the moonlight. Distant though it was, there was no mistaking that ghastly pale face, the eyes that burned with cold emptiness, or the glimmer of its weapon. He quickly shut and barred the door, then barreled through all the rooms in a wild search for anything he could use to start a fire. As he darted from one room to the other, he glanced out again, and screamed.

It was now running after him.

He found a few matches in a cupboard, dislodged the lantern, and with trembling hands, attempted to ignite one of the matches. One strike, two, three: the Thing was closer. Four, five, the stick crumbled and fell to the floor: it was almost here! Gnashing his teeth as he fought his uncontrollable spasms, he was just able to light a fire when the Thing broke through the door and his pathetic barricade, sending the bits flying. Yuniro let out a bloodcurdling scream and fell to the ground, dropping the lantern and match, setting the cabin ablaze. The Thing stood there in the curling flames, glaring at him with ominous indifference, terrible to behold. He somehow scurried away and stumbled his way out of the fiery cabin, leaving the Thing behind to immolate.

After running a few more steps, Yuniro leaned over, finally able to catch his breath; it came in great heaves, blissful relief overtaking his fear. He laughed for joy as the fire engulfed the cabin and everything in it...and then stopped laughing as something came out. Yuniro felt his heart stop as his blood turned to ice. There, in the midst of the conflagration, was his doom: wreathed in flames, impassive as a mountain, darker than any night. It stepped out of the burning cabin, tendrils of fire leaping off its body, smoldering until they were quenched. It stood there before him: unmolested, untouched, unfazed. Yuniro wept as he fell to the ground.

"What are you?" he wailed. It closed in on him. The world around him became cloaked in utter unbreakable silence, until he could not even hear his own screams. Just one voice broke through the dead emptiness.

"Almot, Si Wang, Mort," it whispered, raising its weapon. "Tod, Avasan, Muerte..." Most stories claimed the Grim Reaper used a scythe to harvest the dead. This one had a glaive. "Shi, Smert, Marwolaeth..." It swung, Yuniro let out a soundless cry, their eyes met. It whispered its name once more before his passing:

"Death."

AVATAR

The Celestial Sailors

BOOK THREE: DEATH

1: The Avenging Shadow

"And now, ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, the Ember Island players are proud to present another exciting chapter of...THE AVENGING SHADOW!" A stirring, adventurous melody burst out of the unseen orchestra pit as the curtains parted and a searchlight trailed across the stage to focus on a single point. The audience was already livid with cheers and thunderous applause. The announcer continued, silencing the crowd with his bombastic narration: "When we last left our daring hero, he had finally uncovered the secret lair of the evil Dr. Koshima! As he made his way through the nefarious hideout, our hero was confronted by some of Koshima's most powerful henchmen and deadliest traps! However, as we all know, he is not one to be easily deterred—but Dr. Koshima saved his most grueling trap for last! As our hero rescued a mysterious but beautiful hostage, the room he was in was sealed up, and a flood of water came gushing in from a nearby vent! With no means of escape, the room continued to fill with water, until there was almost no air left to breathe. The Avenging Shadow has seen his fair share of harrowing dangers, my friends, but this one might be the end of him! Stay tuned, ladies and gentlemen, for one way or another...THIS ENDS TODAY!"

The crowd cheered again as the Avenging Shadow's theme played, and were silenced as the play began in earnest. Usagi was already grinning at the edge of her seat.

Hostage: Avenging Shadow, it's no use! This room will be filled with water in a matter of seconds, and then we'll drown! I...I can't hold on much longer!

Avenging Shadow: You've GOT to hold on! If that water can come in here, it's got to come from somewhere else! That vent is our only hope!

Hostage: But the vent's hatch is welded shut—you checked it yourself! Same deal as the door you used to come in here! Oh, you never should have saved me, Avenging Shadow; I'll never forgive myself!

Avenging Shadow: Don't talk that way, we're not licked yet! I expected some foul mischief might be in store for me, so I brought a bolt cutter to get me out of a jam.

Hostage: A bolt cutter? What good's that going to do us?

Avenging Shadow: That ventilator may be welded shut, but the grating should come apart after a few snips. Just...like...so!

(the Avenging Shadow demonstrates by cutting the metal grating in the vent)

Hostage: That's all well and good, Avenging Shadow, but I still don't see how that helps us. There's no way you can fit through there!

Avenging Shadow: True, but I can at least fit my arm in there! I brought some small explosive devices with me, so all I have to do is fix it to the inside of the vent and set it off. That should give us some space to crawl out of, and it might even shut this water off, too!

Hostage: That sounds incredibly dangerous, Avenging Shadow! Are you sure it'll work?

Avenging Shadow: No, but it's our only hope! That door I came in is too thick to blow apart, and so are all the walls in this place. Dr. Koshima lured me into a very clever trap, but it wasn't clever enough!

(the Avenging Shadow reaches into the vent and fixes his handheld explosive device to the interior)

Avenging Shadow: Good, it's secured tightly. Now, hold your breath and dive as far below the surface as you can!

(the Avenging Shadow and the Hostage dive underwater as the explosive goes off, scattering debris and opening a small hole in the ceiling. The water also stops flowing. They both surface)

Avenging Shadow: That was a close one, but we made it. Are you all right?

Hostage: Yes, Avenging Shadow, thank you.

Avenging Shadow: Good! Can you find your way out of here on your own? I still have a score to settle with Koshima.

Hostage: But I can stay with you and help! It's really the least I can do, after all.

Avenging Shadow: Are you absolutely certain? Things will only grow more perilous from here on out, and I can't even guarantee my own safety, much less yours.

Hostage: That's all right, Avenging Shadow—and besides, now I have a score to settle as well.

Avenging Shadow: Very well. If you've made up your mind, then I have no right to change it. Besides, I never turn down the offer of help when I know I'll need it. What is your name, miss?

Hostage: Just call me Allie for now—and do I keep referring to you as the Avenging Shadow?

Avenging Shadow: You may address me however you wish. Now, if you're ready, Allie, follow me through this hole and onward, through the diabolical lair of Dr. Koshima!

The play continued to follow the Avenging Shadow and his new friend as they raced through Koshima's hideout, exchanging witty dialogue sprinkled with exposition whenever they weren't avoiding traps or fighting thugs. The plot was simplistic but highly enjoyable, and the characters, while certainly exciting, exhibited more depth than one might think. The Avenging Shadow appeared to have no special abilities at all, other than his own ingenuity and fortitude, and he didn't always win his conflicts—if he engaged in them at all. That made him much more interesting and easier to follow, at least for Usagi. She was so wrapped up in the hero's latest dilemma that she almost didn't notice Mamoru slipping away.

"Hey, where are you going?" she called. "It's just getting to the good part!"

"Sorry, bun-head," he answered, smiling sadly, "duty calls. The ambassadors from the Northern Air Temple will be arriving in Ba Sing Se tomorrow. I'm glad I was able to steal some time away, at least." Usagi grumbled, but didn't offer too much protest. She knew how important this meeting was to Mamoru, and to the future of two ethnic groups. A year and more had passed since he filled the power vacuum left behind by Beryl, and the Northern Air Nomads wished to regain their autonomy. It was a delicate political undertaking, and the fact that Mamoru would spend even this much time away from it showed just how much he cared for her. She softened and returned his smile.

"All right. Maybe we can have dinner sometime, or breakfast if it's not too much trouble."

"You'll be the first to know. Enjoy the rest of your birthday." He kissed her cheek, drew away, hesitated, then returned for a more intimate exchange. Usagi sucked on her lips as she watched him leave, then sat back down and tried enjoying the rest of the play. Allie and the Avenging Shadow confronted Dr. Koshima, the two enemies wrestled for a bit, Allie put the doctor out of commission with a blow to the head, and revealed herself as the new chief of the Kolau police, sent to infiltrate Koshima's hideout. It was a fairly good twist, and with Koshima arrested and the Avenging Shadow forming a tenuous alliance with her, it was a good way to end a long story arc. After the play ended, the main cast stepped out and took a bow, the actor playing the Avenging Shadow (still in costume and character) capping everything off with a few words of warning and wisdom:

"Remember, who I am is not important. What I do is. Evil cannot gain a foothold if you do not allow it to. We must be ever vigilant against falsehood and immorality, much like a gardener must be ever vigilant against weeds. But should justice never see the light, ladies and gentlemen, make no mistake: it shall be avenged in the shadows! Farewell!" With that, the hero slipped away, the crowd cheering. With the promise of a new series of adventures "only a few months away", the Ember Island players left their audience satisfied and tantalized. Usagi smiled, then glanced over at her companion. Naru was clapping and whistling loudly.

"I'm sorry Umino couldn't make it today," she said once Naru had calmed down. Naru's cheer turned somber.

"It's okay. He's been working a lot more lately. With the wedding only a few weeks away, Omashu's seen a huge spike in tourism. Besides, he says he's already seen this one."

"I still can't comprehend Makoto being married, much less to the king. I thought for sure they'd at least put it off for another year or two."

"Well, what better time?" Naru shrugged. "The world's becoming more peaceful now that Beryl's gone and the Avatar's come back. Mamoru's been doing a great job keeping everything from falling apart."

"Yeah, but it weighs on him," Usagi sighed, sinking a little in her seat. She gently caressed Luna, who was napping in her lap. "He tries not to show it, but he's burned out. Between the politics, the insurrections, and rebuilding the Earth Kingdom, I don't think he's gotten a single good night's sleep in over a year. I've tried to help him whenever I could, but we operate on two completely different theaters." Naru nodded humbly. Usagi, too, looked fatigued from all the constant work and travel she did. She got to relax today, but tomorrow she'd be off in Hei Bai's forest to investigate illegal logging and deforestation rumors; next week she'd be confronting the Black Cliff Bandits; the week after, she'd be sniffing around the Patola mountains in search of a rumored "Spirit Terror" or some such. In the meantime, Mamoru would be negotiating with the Northern Air Nomads, then would meet up with Motoki to reinforce the protection around the Eastern Nomad's territory. There were trade issues with the Northern Water Tribe, mining legislature concerning the Crystal Catacombs, months of back taxes to collect from the western territories, protests, budgets, property management, new laws to approve, old laws to revoke...and just like Motoki, a prospective queen to be on the lookout for. Problems atop problems atop problems.

"Well," Naru said brightly, trying to cheer her friend up, "you don't need to worry about any of that today, at least. You should have some more fun while you can. I find that problems become easier if you focus on them one at a time."

"Good idea. Thanks, Naru." They embraced and left the theater together, Luna trailing close behind. Usagi's other companions had unfortunately been unable to attend, each having her own duty to uphold, but they promised they'd make it up to her later. Usagi honestly didn't feel like partying, and even felt guilty for stealing these few hours away. She was glad for the rest, but...there was just so much left to do...

Ha, listen to yourself, she mentally berated herself with a chuckle. You never used to be this responsible. Whatever happened to the whiny little girl who always overslept and never wanted to study? I guess she grew up, huh? Being the Avatar really changes things, doesn't it? At least that's what Kalkin said...

"Hey Usagi, over here!" As she walked through the streets of Omashu with Naru, Usagi glanced up and saw Umino waving at them. He was standing next to her favorite ice cream shop. The two girls strolled over as the bespectacled young man wriggled his eyebrows. Naru kissed his cheek while Usagi settled for a smile. "Sorry I couldn't make it today, work's been rough."

"That's okay. Naru said you saw the play already."

"Yeah. It's a good way to end the season but I really hated the last-minute addition of Allie. She struck me as too weak and dependent to be a police chief."

"Oh?" Naru chirped. "So do you like your women to be strong and willful?" He blushed.

"I mean, it goes against her character. You'd expect an officer to be a little more competent and level-headed, right? Anyway, I hear today is someone's special day. Whaddya say I treat you to some ice cream?" Usagi's eyes widened as she let out a squeal. If there was one thing that made her forget the troubles of the world, it was free food—and especially ice cream.

…...

It had been a fairly prosperous village nestled between Ba Sing Se, the Northern Air Temple territory, and the Crystal Catacombs, until the Zealots of the Avatar descended upon them. Although many of its citizens had been protesting the new king ever since Beryl died ("under suspicious circumstances", they maintained), they still enjoyed all the rights and privileges that Mamoru bestowed, many of them unheard of in Beryl's time. He had, effectively, improved their lives, all while allowing them their own thoughts, contradictory though they were—but all that was changed now that the Zealots razed the village. Usagi and Ma-Ti had arrested or converted a huge portion of them, but evidently not enough to save this place. Two of the zealots were dragging a screaming woman with them down the street while the cult's current leader overlooked the stake and firewood that had been prepared earlier.

"Those who oppose the mighty Avatar must die," he intoned, loud enough for half the village to hear. "Those who raise arms against her must die. Those who speak out against her must die. She has saved this land from evil and so must be revered. Goodness must not allow wickedness to live. Weeds must be pruned and disposed of, lest they choke the garden of its life!"

The woman might have offered several colorful idioms in rebuke if she hadn't been beaten, gagged, and tied up. While it was true that she and most of the villagers opposed King Endymion's claim to the throne, and even held disdain towards the new Avatar, their "sedition" began and ended with the daily grumblings of distant villagers whose voices died in the wind. They had no delusions about rising up and challenging the new rule, and would more than likely bend the knee—reluctantly—if either Endymion or Usagi actually visited their neck of the woods. One may as well execute them for hating a famine, or an owlbear attack, or cold weather. Yet many would now be killed, horrifically, for their thoughts.

"The others, too," the zealot leader commanded, gesturing to a cluster of people, including some children. "Bind them to the stake. They must all be purified together."

"Please," a man cried out, "not the children! We'll swear lifelong fealty to Endymion and the Avatar if you'll just spare the children!"

"You must all be cleansed," the leader intoned coldly. "Man, woman, young, and old. A rotted seed will sprout rotted fruit. Better to burn the filth away at the root rather than allow it to grow and fester."

"You, you can't be serious! No Avatar would ever condone this atrocity! Just who do you think y—" His voice was cut off as a muzzle was put over his mouth, and any other protest was similarly silenced. The group was slowly dragged to the pyre, where a circle of torchbearers awaited. The leader took a moment to assess the spectacle before him, making sure all the offending parties were gathered. The other cultists were either gathered here, rounding up stragglers, or destroying the village.

Good, good. They were almost ready.

Before the first spark could be ignited, the leader heard screams coming from around the village—not from those who would profane the Avatar, but from his own brothers and sisters. These were not the screams of joy, or struggle, or even of violence, but of pure unmolested terror, the sort that sent shivers rippling across his skin. He wheeled around and demanded to know what was going on. Had Endymion betrayed them, and sent his forces to sweep across the country and save these heathens? Had the very Spirits themselves risen to side against their goddess? There weren't enough villagers in the town to pose any kind of threat, so then who...?

The leader gawked as a swarm of cultists burst out of the village meeting hall, their minds lost to fear, scrambling like rats. A few trampled each other in their panic; some fought and clawed at one another in desperation or madness. Then, as if this wasn't terrifying enough, they all began to fall to the ground, five or six at a time, until not a single one was left standing. They never got back up. The torchbearers and witnesses to the execution stood fixed to the spot, not sure whether to flee or remain. Then, something emerged from the meeting hall that turned the blood of the leader to ice: a creature, an entity, a Something, wreathed in shadows, cloaked by blackest night even at midday, a mockery of humanity veiled beneath the pale mask of death. Tears streamed down his face as the Something drew near, wielding a long pole with a huge curved blade on the end. Excruciating silence suffocated him and everything all around him. He stood utterly helpless as the Something drifted past him, towards the torchbearers and the witnesses, stopping at the pyre.

With a single flicker of its glaive, it sheared the ropes binding the villagers to the stake. At the exact same moment, the torchbearers, witnesses, and the leader himself fell down dead, all save one, the youngest of the cultists.

"Go," the Something whispered, breaking the silence, and the villagers needed no further instruction. That left only the youngest zealot. All he could do was whimper, tremble, and cry. The Something studied him with frigid indifference.

"Stand." He stood. It then pointed off to the side. "Leave." He lit out, weeping and muttering apologies. The Something took a moment to assess its surroundings, breathing in deep, before closing its eyes. It was gone before the first brave villager dared return to that spot.

The end of "The Avenging Shadow"

Next time: "Business as Unusual"

Author's notes:

So the third and final part begins. I'm pretty sure most Sailor Moon fans will know who the Something is, but just in case, I'll keep their identity a secret for now. I have some great plans for the reveal. The Avenging Shadow was directly inspired by several radio dramas from the 1930s and 40s (most obviously The Shadow), and while its ties to the story may not seem relevant, I can assure everyone that I have it there for a reason (besides the fact that I think it's cool). The names that Something uses to identify itself all mean "death" in various languages (Arabic, Chinese, French, German, Hindi, Spanish, Japanese, Russian...and Fomorii/Welsh). Again, just something I thought would make a nice touch.