Page 66 of Destined to the Reaper

But I didn’t care. My brother was free and thriving in the plains of Erebus. I was madly in love with a wonderful man who had made me essentially immortal, and I was living my best life.

“My Kali,” Pharos said, startling me as I was gazing down at the Nephilim Valley from our main terrace. “I have analmatharto release. He is one of those cases to whom I will grant a choice. You were curious about it. Do you wish to bear witness?”

I nodded frantically. He grinned and took me by the hand to lead me to one of the comfortable couches by the sitting area so that I could settle down. As I had given him my soul, I could shadow him whenever he allowed it, my consciousness being a part of him, permitting me to see through his eyes the same way I had done with the magpie.

Once correctly propped in a position that I wouldn’t fall from, I let my consciousness flow towards him as he tugged me in. The disembodied sensation was always odd, but I loved finding myself surrounded by the beauty of my man’s soul.

The world blurred around us, and seconds later, we were standing inside a hospital room. An older man was moaning in excruciating pain. His emaciated face strained as he clenched his teeth, his hands shaking as he tried in vain to reach for the little cord that would ring the bell to call a nurse for assistance.

“Greetings, Paul,” Pharos said in a gentle voice.

The old man’s head jerked to the left, and his eyes widened as he recognized who had come to pay him a visit.

“Reaper!” he whispered in a trembling voice.

The sliver of fear that crossed his features was quickly replaced by one of relief mixed with resignation. To my shock, here inside Pharos, I could perceive so many things I normally never would, including seeing the tiny thread of Paul’s life surrounded by the shimmering colors of his soul. Judging by their pleasant hue, I could only assume he had been a decent person.

“I am ready,” Paul said. “I cannot keep fighting this body that has failed me. Just please tell me that where I’m going will not lead me to even more pain.”

I felt Pharos’s lips stretch into a smile. “No, my friend. There will be no pain where you are going. You have lived a good life and therefore will have plenty of choices for the afterlife.”

“Thank the Gods,” the old man said with a quiver in his voice.

“But before we go, you have one final choice to make,” Pharos continued. “Your estranged daughter and her son have heard of your circumstances. Whatever disagreement tore you apart, she doesn’t want you to leave before you can mend things. She’s but twenty minutes away and hurrying here. If you wish to wait for her, we can delay your departure.”

The old man’s lips quivered as a powerful emotion filled his eyes. Longing, sadness, regrets, and pain fought for dominance within him.

“I want to see her. I was such a fool… such a stubborn and arrogant fool. But I don’t think I can last this long. The pain…”

“If you wish to wait, I can take away your pain so that you can enjoy your last moments with your loved ones,” Pharos said.

“You… you could really do that?!” Paul exclaimed, hope and disbelief lighting up his wizened features.

Outside, the muffled voices of two nurses reached us. As the door was closed, I suspected we could only hear them due to Pharos’s enhanced hearing, but that Paul would be oblivious to them.

“Poor Mr. Lane is talking to himself,” one of the nurses said. “The pain is likely making him delirious again. Do you think we can give him another sedative?”

“We have exceeded the dose already,” a male voice said.

“He only has a few hours left,” the woman argued. “Shouldn’t we try to make him as comfortable as possible in these last few moments? He has no chance of recovering.”

“Very well. One more dose won’t make much of a difference anyway,” the man conceded.

“Yes, Paul. I can really do that,” Pharos replied. “The pain will go away for up to twenty-four hours. When you are ready to go, simply wish for me to return, and I will come back immediately to escort you.”

“And if the twenty-four hours go by?” Paul asked.

“Then I will come in the following two hours,” Pharos replied.

“So I have a maximum of twenty-six hours left,” the older man said with sudden understanding.

Pharos nodded.

“Please take away my pain,” Paul said. “I would hug my daughter one last time.”

Pharos flicked his right hand, and his bone scythe appeared in it, not the ghostly one he previously had. It looked terrifying with its vicious blades at each end. Even the old man seemed intimidated by it. Understanding the fear coursing through him, Pharos extended his open palm towards him. Paul glanced at it, swallowed hard, then placed his wrinkled, bony hand in his with much effort. But as soon as Pharos closed his fingers around it, a sense of peace descended over the old man.

“All will be well,” Pharos said gently before carefully approaching the sharp tip of his blade near his nape.

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