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As ever, he felt the call all around him. An echoing, haunting song, sung by the lost and the losing, the fallen and the falling. A song of pain and fear and hope and no small part of rage. It was a symphony, a beautiful orchestra of… Of life fighting for its right to continue. Its right to persist. To stay in its passions and its terrors and its joys. All in defiance of..
Him.
"All in order…" He murmured, standing at the edge of the great lake that, once not so long ago, had been a shining metropolis.
Even now, its tallest spires poked up out of the water, birds and sea-lions flocking around them. Nesting among the rubble and devastation. Even a whale meandered through, small and sleek-backed, with silver skin highlighted by blue. Its young one followed along, trailing daintily between the rubble-stacks where smaller fish hid from their predators. All in the dance of life - struggle, survival, death, and the endless cycle that propelled the world.
Watching it all, he could only hum contentedly, "How beautiful…"
Suddenly, the symphony of existence was… Interrupted.
By a distant, pained echo. One tasting of pain, sorrow, betrayal- And a place he had not set foot in all his many eons. A place which tasted of Ancient Power. Untapped, uncontrolled. Raw and tempestuous and ceaseless. Rising, he cocked his head at the sensations rolling off the sour note and reached out to seize it… Only to instead be seized by it, dragged off his feet-
And through a great, shimmering door.
Where he found himself was made of wood, arcing out away from him in long branches covered in leaves. A great rift had been left in the bark that served as the floor before the great door and, around it, branches curved up to a sort of… Roof, at the apex. And, scattered along the branches, he could see… Figures. Statues, of a sort, but made of wood that had seemed to flow up from the tree itself into shapes he could not discern.
Aside from one…
Reaching out, he stepped through the air to stand horizontally, bound to the tree by his magic, and laid a hand on the face of the girl in the tree. Her name came to him as all dead names did, but… "Neo… Trivia… So much fog. I do not understand."
"She is not dead." He turned and, suddenly, the wooden world was gone, replaced by… Emptiness. Aside from a woman resting on her haunches, hands resting on her thighs, all made of shifting metals and chains and flesh. The woman spoke over her shoulder, "Neo Politan, Trivia Vanille… Both are making their peace with one another, at long last."
"I… I see." He murmured, for the first time unsure if he was speaking the truth. Still, that innate sense of the world that spoke people's truths to him told him she was not lying. "I sensed death. Pain. If not her, then…"
"This one." She answered, standing, finally, and stepping aside.
At her feet, crumpled and dim, sat a simple little creature. A cat. But one that emanated something… Dark, and Light, and powerful, all at once. And, of course, dead. Dimmed. Like a fire with dirt kicked over it. He stepped toward it and knelt, brushing its hand along its smooth, furry side.
"What…" He hummed, "Are you?"
"Now, isn't that the question." A new voice, muted but… Somehow bright answered, as the world around him once more shifted. Back outside, in the open space beyond the door, he turned to find the cat sitting at its base. Simply… Staring into the portal. Without turning, the creature said, "Questions. Always so many questions… Never so many answers, though. Not enough to satisfy, at least."
"That is the way of things." Death nodded as realization came to him, beckoned along the tendrils of the worlds that had once given him life and purpose. Standing at the base of the steps, he inclined his head and greeted the thing, "You are Curious."
"Is that all you can describe me as…?" It huffed, "How typical."
"It was not a description." Death answered, "It is what you are. A cat most curious indeed."
"You…" They turned, finally, ears flicking and eyes narrowing in confusion. Even fear, looking out on his visage. They cocked their head and, after a few moments, their nature won out and the cat asked, quietly, "What… What are you?"
"Death." He answered simply, watching the emotions play across the Cat's face. Quietly, he chuckled and added, "I will spare you the flowers and poetry. Instead, ask what you really wish to know."
"Was I…" They grimaced, turned and looked up at the statuesque form of the girl. "I was wrong, wasn't I?"
"About Humanity?"
"Mhm…"
"Yes." Death answered, joining him in watching her. "And the Door. You were never made to survive here. As Humanity was never meant to survive here. Each of you were forged for your own homes. And cursed by your creators to suffer for the nature they emplaced within you."
"You weren't made by the Gods?"
"No." He answered, "I am simpler. More… Fundamental."
"How so?"
"In the beginning, the end was made." He answered plainly, simply, raising his scythe and lowering it as he spoke. "As a thing rises, it falls. As a thing begins, an end is created. Death is that end for all things with minds, base or advanced. I personify it here, in this realm of existence."
"There are others, then…?" They turned to him, eyes wide in wonder that turned to pain as he nodded. "I-I need… I need to know them… I-I can't- It's inside me, please, I-"
"Peace." He laid a hand on its head and ran the points of his bony fingers along its scalp. It stiffened but then relaxed, leaning into the gesture, and he would have smiled if he could. Scratching at them, he said, "Peace is what I offer you, as with all people. A way to move on."
"To… What?"
He looked up as wood cracked and fell away and, from it, a woman fell. Pale skinned, with dark hair split by streaks of pink, she stood on shaky legs and straightened her suit. She looked around with mismatched eyes and, finally, turned to the door. And her mouth dipped into a thin, concerned sort of frown. Then she turned as another, shorter and with pure black hair and dark eyes, fell behind her. Turning, the first scooped her up and helped straighten the little black dress she wore.
"Thanks." The second murmured, leaning into the hug the other offered. Pulling away, she turned for the door, "Come on. Let's go home."
The Cat and Death watched the twins vanish through the door, ripples of light rolling across it, and Death answered their question, "Home. Where nothing will plague you, no urge will crush you… And no one will betray you, ever again."
"That…" The Cat sniffed and nodded, "That sounds good."
"It does." Death nodded, scratching them one last time and rising as the pressure under his fingers vanished. Sighing, he looked up at the ruined wood that had been a statue and bowed his head. "It does indeed…"
"You know…" He turned, once more in that empty place, but now in some manner of… Workshop, and the woman looked up from her anvil. Gesturing at the tools, weapons, masks, clothes and little wooden forms of beasts around her, she said. "The Tree has enough power to grant you a new life as well."
"It does?" He asked, shaking his head. "How can it be so powerful?"
"I do not know." She answered, "I only know that it can. If you want it."
For a moment, he considered it, before he turned away and simply said, "No. This is… This is my purpose."
"Indeed." The Blacksmith's smile was audible even in her voice and, with a clang of her hammer…
He was back beside the water of Atlas' little lake, watching the birds fly. And, for a moment, he was confused. And curious. What had that place been, truly? What had happened? Who had those girls been? Even he did not know, and could not. Until they died, at least, and Reality granted him the information. All he knew was…
They'd been happy.
"And that is enough." He hummed, nodding and laying his scythe against his shoulder. "As is this."
Distantly, the tug of pain, regret and defiance reached out to him… And he reached out for it, too.
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