Page 24 of Destined to the Reaper

As Alva started slicing his chest open, the manticore didn’t scream, but locked eyes with Cornelius. To my shock, I realized he wasn’t looking at the necromancer, but directly at me.

“Release me, Reaper!” he shouted in a pained voice. “Grant me peace!”

Cornelius burst out laughing, mocking both him and me. Despite his prior request to rip out the manticore’s soul for him, my host knew better the limitations that constrained me. However, the baffled look Alva and Meri cast in turn towards their master and their victim reiterated the fact that Cornelius was doing an excellent job of fooling them into believing the tremendous powers he possessed actually came from him instead of the demigod he had enslaved.

They had no idea I lurked within him.

Annoyed by their inquisitive looks, he snapped at them to resume their task. The next five minutes devolved into a gruesome spectacle of pure evil as they painstakingly started removing the least vital organs from the creature, taking their sweet time to wrap them in spells as they placed them in the special containers Alva had brought so that they wouldn’t decay or lose the potent magic that emanated from them.

To add insult to injury, Cornelius used my regeneration powers to help sustain the cub who was quickly failing from the sadistic abuse inflicted upon him. Too focused on my guilt andsorrow, further compounded by the heart-wrenching sound of his screams, I didn’t hear this subtle but unmistakable ripping sound of the brief tearing of the Veil from a traveler teleporting through it.

And then I felt the beloved familiar energy.

Haroth!!

“Reaper! You’re much too early!” Cornelius snarled upon seeing the impressive silhouette of my brother standing two meters ahead.

The two apprentices once more started, looking in confusion at the empty space where their master was looking. Meri was the first to realize what was happening and altered her vision to be able to see the Reaper. Alva followed suit moments later. As regular mortals, their necromantic powers were the only thing that allowed them to get some sort of glimpse. But to them, he would merely look like a vague, robed figure. Thanks to me, Cornelius would see my brother in his full glory.

A powerful ache, sense of loss, and longing crushed me as I took in his dark robe and gleaming scythe. The familiar sound of his chains clanking as he closed the distance with us further exacerbated the sharp pain of all that had been taken from me. Below his hood, his eyes glowed red—testifying to his fury and illuminating the sharp angles of his skeletal face.

It hurt even more that part of his rage was actually aimed at me.

Obviously, Haroth understood that I had not chosen this fate, and that I couldn’t help how my powers were being abused. That didn’t lessen his resentment. By allowing myself to be captured, I had caused endless suffering that never should have existed as Cornelius never would have had the power required to inflict it to begin with.

And yet, beneath that anger, my brother felt a great deal of pity for me.

“My apprentices and I plan to play with him for a while longer. I’m sure you can find plenty of other dying souls to keep you occupied for an hour or so. We should be done by then,” Cornelius said with an arrogance that made me want to tear him to shreds.

“I think not,” Haroth replied with a voice cold enough to freeze an erupting volcano.

“His thread has not ended!” the necromancer hissed with disbelief.

“It is close enough. Unlike Pharos, I am a Grim, not an Angel of Death. As I am not bound by the same constraints, I say he’s done.”

“NO!” Cornelius shouted.

But it was too late. With a swift swipe of his scythe, Haroth killed the manticore. At a glance, it looked as if he had attempted to behead him. While the two girls only saw a blur, Cornelius and I clearly saw the blade sever the soul’s link to the body before yanking it out.

It was a luminous glow that spread through the few bone knots at the base of the scythe. Like many Grims, Haroth carried the souls of the fallen in that fashion as he did not care to interact with them during their journey to the other side. I literally walked them, their souls retaining the ethereal silhouette of the physical person they had been before their passing as I ease them into their new journey ahead.

Yielding once more to his volatile temper, Cornelius foolishly took a threatening step towards my brother. “You fucking—!”

“Do not threaten or insult me, human. Then again, maybe you should carry on and give me a good reason to put you out of your misery,” Haroth said, waving his scythe in a less-than-subtle fashion.

Cornelius laughed while looking at the Reaper with an incredulous expression. “Seriously?! I can’t die, you idiot!”

My brother tilted his head to the side, the bones of his skeletal face shifting to reveal a terrifying toothy grin. He normally had a very pleasant smile, but this time, he was deliberately using one of his Grim appearances for a more dramatic effect.

“You want to bet? I’d be happy to teach you the error of your ways.”

“You wouldn’t dare!” Cornelius said, this time, a hint of worry seeping into his voice.

He almost added that Haroth wouldn’t want to risk killing his own brother, but he caught himself at the last minute before casting an annoyed glance at the women. He angrily gestured for them to move away and grant him privacy.

“Why are you sending away your females?” Haroth asked loud enough so that they would hear him. “Are you afraid they will find out the secret of your power? That they will learn you truly are a weak necromancer leeching off the Reaper you have ensnared?”

The women gasped, their heads jerking between their master and the Reaper.

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