Prey

The Shadow walked into the room.

His eyes scoured the mess, noticing everything and noting nothing of importance. Clothes lay strewn about on the floor, empty ale bottles lay on their sides and small candles burnt down to mere nubs. In the midst of it all lay Draen, drunk out of his mind and naked from head to toe. A lone candle stood silently lit a few steps from his feet.

The Shadow slowly moved towards the unconcious man, whose back was facing the Shadow. His ghostly feet passed through the mess, touching nothing, leaving only a cold trace in the air. The bottles he passed through cracked, the clothes he touched stiffened, the candle nubs he looked at froze.

But Draen... Draen did not stir.

A stream of moonlight invaded the room through an open window, casting its glow all over Draen’s body. The Shadow paused, mildly irritated at the light. He glanced at the window and saw his own reflection gazing back at him.

He saw a hooded figure in a lonely room reflected back. Nothing to be seen of his face except what seemed to be a long flat beak-like bone poking out where his nose should have been. Clothed in darkness, floating just a few feet above the ground.

The Shadow raised a skeletal hand and the shadows around him moved towards the window, stretching and reaching towards it. The shadows moved like an invisible hand, swirling around the window and completely covering it in darkness, halting the moonlight from entering.

Then the Shadow moved towards the man, his arms reaching...

Something was wrong.

The Shadow hesitated. Something was amiss. The body radiated death and the Shadow instantly knew it had been dead for at least an hour.

He reached out with a swift hand and pulled Draen’s body to face him. There was only one problem.

The body wasn’t Draen’s.

A floorboard creaked behind him. Someone sighing. “You really should be more mindful of your prey, Shadow.”

The Shadow spun around. Draen stood, leaning against the door frame, arms crossed with a smile on his face, completely calm despite being faced with the second most lethal assassin in the Nine Realms.

The Shadow spoke in his native tongue. A low rough voice forming harsh cruel words -- words of power and anger. Words of magyck.

Draen lifted a hand towards the Shadow and the Shadow stiffened, his words momentarily caught in his throat. Then he began his chanting anew, determined and fierce.

“You just never know when to give up, do you?” Draen smiled. “Admirable, but ultimately...”

A bright blue glow began to appear in the palm of Draen’s hand, growing and building, being held back as if by sheer will. Then when it seemed like it would not grow any more ... it was released. It shot forward, faster than the Shadow’s eyes could follow and tore right through the Shadow’s torso, disappearing and taking the dark with it.

“... stupid,” finished Draen.

The darkness that surrounded the room seemed to disperse and the shadows that had guarded the windows let in the moonlight once again. The dark apparition was no more.

“No one beats the best, Shadow,” Draen snarled into the quiet room, his eyes only momentarily -- guiltily -- going over the naked human corpse he had killed.

Then he turned his back on the room and walked away.

The Clearing

All was cold and dark in the forest clearing. It was darker than it had ever been in several years, even though the moon was in full harvest that night.

The leaves had stopped their rustling. Not a sound was heard. No creatures had dared to stir. Not at the very moment, no. They could feel the silent tension that stretched the very air taut.

And then Death stepped into the clearing.

The last time Death had come here personally... It had been ages ago. But the circumstances that found tonight’s soul were too precious to leave to his little Reapers. This was something that Death had to see to himself.

He smiled wearily when he saw them. The lovers were lying down on the cold grass, their arms and bodies so entangled in each other that it was hard to tell where one person ended and the other began. They were staring softly into each other’s eyes.

Love in its youth, sighed Death. Innocent and beautiful. Such a shame.

The boy and the girl had not noticed the sudden darkness that pervaded the clearing. Nor had they noted the way the temperature had fallen on their skin. Indeed, so intense was their gaze upon each other that nothing existed beyond each other’s loving stare.

The girl’s eyes were the first to feel heavy. She blinked once, twice. She smiled at her love and gave him a final lingering glance before slowly falling into a deep slumber.

The boy felt no similar inclination to close his eyes. Not just yet. He looked at the young beautiful person who lay in front of him, not wishing to miss a thing.

He studied the angles and curves upon her face, trying to imagine the way the light would have cast hollow shadows when her head tilted somewhat.

He traced a gentle finger along her cheek, appreciating the subtle skin. He gazed at her for as long as he could, memorizing every facet of her beauty, remembering every tender moment he shared with her, every time she was in his arms.

He knew that this was the last time he would hold her. He had felt the cold and the dark that had closed in on them the moment she closed her eyes and he just knew.

Death watched all of this with the sound of silence in his thoughts. He soaked in the tenderness of the moment. It gave him no pleasure to have to do this to the young couple. Not tonight of all nights, when the light of their love had shone brightest of all.

But such was the nature of Death. He could not go against it even if he so desired.

The boy closed his eyes for the last time.

Slowly, tenderly, gently. Death moved towards the boy, his feet making no sound.

A soft breeze blew about him. But none could feel it.

It was the breath of a thousand souls. And none could feel it. None, save Death himself.

Death hovered over the young couple. Before him were two souls, both beautiful in their own right. But only one was to stay.

He stared deep into the depths of the young boy’s heart and saw in there the tumour, making its way and spreading like a cancer.

Death had no love for the cancer. But neither was there hate. The cancer just was.

He knelt down beside the child – for to him, all men were mere children – and reached out with both hands.

His ethereal hands went under the boy’s body and slowly rose, passing through flesh and bone and gently feeling for the heart. As soon as he found it, the beating stopped and just like that, the child would never again be able to return.

Then he gently pulled.

And inch by inch, the soul tore away from its home. So it went until Death cradled it in its entirety. Then Death gazed upon it.

The boy’s soul was crimson and purple, sprinkled with flecks of yellow. It was a clean soul, a kind soul, a soul that Death took pity upon easily. He held it lightly in his arms.

Tentatively, the soul opened its eyes and stared at the only manifestation of death it would ever know.

The soul was not surprised to see Death and did not stare as long as previous souls had. Instead, he turned his gaze back to the girl, his expression mournful.

A minute passed. Another.

Death stood unmoving, the soul in his arms. This was a moment that would last forever if need be. Time was no matter.

Eventually, the soul turned back to look at Death. His expression was one of acceptance. The soul nodded and Death blew his breath upon the soul.

It was time to go.

Cassiopeia

It's so cold up here, she wept silently. It's always so cold.

She had her head tucked in her arms, her eyes closed to all the others around her. They were always too far away to bother with anyway. That's how it always was. That's how it always will be, she sniffled. Poor lonely Cassiopeia, all alone her own quiet little corner of the night sky.

She looked up just once more. She knew it was beautiful here. It was always beautiful. The universe surrounding her was like an eternal night that was deep and infinite and so rich in its beauty. And there, everywhere she looked... there were stars. So many and all so bright.

Her distant friends. Well, "friends".

There was Leo. And over there, Aries. And dear old Lyra, ever so graceful with her instrument.  And Jiminy.

And here, our poor constellation was all alone. She didn't really know Leo or Aries or Lyra. She wasn't sure if Jiminy was even a star. They were just names she had made up. She wasn't even sure if they were alive and blazing like she was or if they were just quiet empties.

She had met one once - an empty. It had been heading her way and it looked like it was still raging its heartfelt flame. She had been so excited. 

Finally! A friend. She had always dreamed of making a friend. 

But then... Then it had floated by. And she saw it for what it truly was. Just a hollow shell of the star it once was, little embers still burning in the depths of its heart but it wasn't a flame large enough to sustain the life of a star. 

She knew then then she was never going to find anyone. Never. It had taken forever for a star to come by and when it did, it had been pure emptiness. Not a trace of a proud sun in its soul. It was too much. This had gone on for far too long. She couldn't take it any more.

And so she had wept. Her tears flowed for years, for decades, for centuries, for millennia and for loneliness.

And they just never stopped. Even now, there was a trail of stardust - sorrow incarnate - running down her eyes. 

That was when she first heard him. 

She had looked up but she wasn't sure where he was coming from. She didn't know how she knew that it was a boy but somehow she did. She couldn't see him. All the stars looked the same from where she was. But she could hear him coming, the sound steadily growing over the years. It took her precisely 45,363 years before she finally spotted him. He was the only star growing in size. He was the only one headed her way. He was tiny but she could feel it. Her love was on his way.

Sure, she had seen whole galaxies flow by before but they were always in the distance, always just too far for her to make out anything except to recognize that they were a cluster of stars bound together by some kind of bond. 

She had wished she had that. She wanted it so dearly, a whole family of constellations to surround her and for her to be able to follow them wherever they went. Never being alone.

But here he was, aiming right for her.

She had this sharp suspicion in her left twinkle that this would turn out to be another empty. But by the power of her mother, the Universe, she sure hoped not.

It took him another couple hundred millennia to get close enough for her to see him and by now she had grown terribly jumpy. The beauty of her constellation shimmered with her joy.

This star... This wonderful, wonderful star... He... He wasn't an empty. He was a shooting star. She could almost cry new tears, she thought. And she did. These tears were filled with starlight - joy incarnate - and pure peace. 

A friend, at last.

And sure enough, here he was, slowly drifting with grace. 

"Hi." Small, meek, simple. She had never done this before.

"Hey." Soft, gentle, strong. Neither had he.

And though she had a hundred questions to ask him, she felt this calm come over her. The two stars never spoke. Something more subtle passed between them and she never really knew what it was. Trust, she supposed. It was as if they had been lost to each other for so long and has only finally found each other again.

There was no need for words. Silence and just the pleasure of the other's company was good enough.

It took him another ten years before It happened.

And she was glad it happened. He had been heading right at her for a long time. Not a single degree off course. 

When they collided, she felt nothing but companionship and beautiful explosions and she felt it when a feeling grew in her deep, dark, bright soul. This curious feeling burst out, mingling with him, his feelings, his soul. And Cassiopeia knew she was home. She felt it all the way down to her spiral bones.

It felt just like heaven.