Page 39 of Guarded By the Reaper

“They’re beautiful, aren’t they? They’re also deadly. All of them.”

I jumped out of my skin at the voice coming from behind me. I spun around, nearly knocking over a bottle. A woman stood before me, her presence striking and unsettling. She was beautiful in an otherworldly way, with eyes that seemed to hold centuries of wisdom.

“Who are you?” I asked. The room felt smaller, more intimate, as if the shelves were closing in around us.

“I’m the First Sister,” she replied, her tone casual, as if that explained everything.

I blinked, confused. First Sister? Of what? I had so many questions, but they all tangled up in my throat. Instead, I turned back to the shelves, gesturing at the bottles.

“What are they?”

The First Sister’s lips curved into a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “They’re prophecies,” she said, running a finger along the shelf. “I wrote them myself.”

Prophecies? Like, seeing the future? I’d seen some weird stuff since meeting Grim, but this took the cake.

“Does everyone have one?” I asked. I thought of Elysia, of Grim, of all the people I cared about. Did their futures sit here, trapped in glass?

The First Sister shook her head. “No, not everyone. Only those who irk me.”

I swallowed hard, not sure if I wanted to know the answer to my next question. “Do I have one?”

Her eyes met mine, and for a moment, I felt like she could see right through me. “No,” she said. “You would have known if you did.”

Relief flooded through me, followed quickly by a pang of guilt. Why was I relieved? Shouldn’t I want to know my future, especially with everything going on?

The First Sister must have sensed my internal struggle. She placed a hand on my shoulder, her touch surprisingly warm.

“Trust me,” she said. “Not having a prophecy is a blessing. It means your future is your own to shape.”

I nodded, trying to take comfort in her words. But as I looked around at the countless bottles, each holding someone’s fate, I couldn’t help but wonder: how much of our lives was really up to us to decide? And what did it mean to irk a being who could write the future? What was I doing here, anyway? Grim was probably waiting, wondering where I’d disappeared to. I glanced around the room, suddenly feeling like an intruder in a place I shouldn’t be.

“I... I should go,” I said. “I don’t know how long I’ve been here, but time feels different in this place.”

The First Sister nodded, her expression unreadable. As I turned to leave, her hand touched my arm, light as a feather. I looked back, meeting her ancient eyes. Without a word, she pressed a small bottle into my palm. It was cool against my skin, and I curled my fingers around it. My gaze dropped to the label, and my breath caught in my throat.

“Ma-Vasha,” I read aloud. I looked up at the First Sister, questions swirling in my mind. “Is this... Is this her prophecy?”

She nodded, a slight smile playing at the corners of her lips. “Yes. I believe it might be of use to you.”

I stared at the bottle. This tiny thing held Ma-Vasha’s future? The being who held my sister’s life – and my own – in her hands?

“Why?” I asked. “Why are you helping me?”

She shrugged, the gesture oddly casual for someone so otherworldly. “I’m a cat person,” she said, as if that explained anything.

Before I could process her words, she was gently pushing me towards the door. “Off you go now,” she said, her tone leaving no room for argument.

I stumbled into the hallway, my head spinning. The bottle felt heavy in my hand, far heavier than its small size should allow. I slipped it into my pocket, my fingers lingering on its smooth surface for a moment. The corridor seemed different now, less dizzying than before. I took a deep breath, trying to gather my thoughts. What had just happened? And what was I supposed to do with Ma-Vasha’s prophecy?

“Millie!”

Grim’s voice snapped me back to reality. I turned to see him running towards me. He reached me in seconds, his bony hands gripping my arms as he searched my face.

“Are you okay? Where have you been?”

I opened my mouth to answer, but a wave of dizziness hit me. The events of the day – meeting Death, discovering the room of prophecies, the weight of Ma-Vasha’s future in my pocket – it all made me feel exhausted.

“I’m not feeling well,” I managed to say, leaning into Grim’s solid form.

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