Don't Fear the Reaper by J.C. Murphey

Author:J.C. Murphey [J.C. Murphey]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: J.C. Murphey
Published: 2023-11-27T00:00:00+00:00

Part II

Chapter 12

Veralt

113 years later

“Just as much of a pain in the ass in death as you were in life,” I grumbled prissily as I was wading ass-deep in the waters of the dead. Bony fingers clung weakly to my ankles and calves, their ephemeral forms unable to get a strong grasp before slipping through my legs. It was still an unpleasant feeling being groped by ghosts. The fact I was this deep in the waters was testament itself to how much my power had waned during my search. Eventually, these eternally-hungry waters would swallow me whole as they have swallowed the rest of Noira’s House. Of my House. Ever the optimist, I hoped my power hadn’t drained to the point I couldn’t get out of the waters again.

I couldn’t give up. For Noira, and for those who sacrificed every last speck of their lifeforce to keep the spirit gate open. I was looking for a specific soul here, who didn’t seem to want to be found. That would be much too convenient for that punk.

Eventually, I mucked my way through the dark waters to the base of the gate. Or at least, what was left of the gate. The great red pillars that at one time seemed indomitable were almost completely submerged in the water. I didn’t want to think about what would happen if it submerged completely. ‘Hell on Earth’ would take on a whole new meaning, to be sure. The red soul threads that had tied it to the realm of the living had been ripped away when Noira fell to that hellspawn Azazel, leaving the gate to sink for over a century unattended. I had never felt more helpless, reduced to shadow and wind trying to push that useless human along to try and help her.

As it was, no soul found peace once it left—or was forced out of—its container of skin and bones. There was no way to guide the dead to the spirit world without Noira.

Just thinking of her trapped in the living realm made my blood boil. I don’t know what she saw in that worthless itska, but he damn near wiped out the mortal race single-handedly with his pitiful collapse of conviction. Even our word for ‘ignorant child’ wasn’t strong enough for his level of unworthiness to even scrape at her feet. Noira was the embodiment of death, for the Creator’s sake! Who could doubt her ability to kill some despicable scum like Azazel?

And yet, his doubt led to her downfall, and eventually his own. Now I’m left here to scrape together whatever scraps of his soul managed to cross through the gate before it broke to shambles.

Damn Victor Rexford was the only one who could fix this mess, or at least whatever cobbled-together reincarnation of him I could manage.

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