A Mortal’s life is like a glowing thread being slowly unspooled.
That thread is the Life thread.
There are only a few ways a Life thread can end.
Naturally. Suddenly. Interfered with.
When the Life thread breaks, the body can no longer stay animated.
That exact moment is when Death arrives.
Death doesn’t take the soul.
It separates Life from body.
Death shows up before the reaper because a reaper can’t touch a soul that’s still anchored.
The reaper leads the soul to a threshold.
From there, the soul goes where it’s aligned.
Rest. Judgement. Rebirth, Dissolution. Something else entirely.
Record Nine - Cairon
The sun loomed in the black, a vast sphere of living flame breathing light into the darkness.
Cairon lay stretched across the sphere, hands folded behind his head, one knee bent, staring at a sky that didn’t belong to any world in particular. It shimmered faintly like it couldn’t decide what color it wanted to be.
His jaw was tight. His mouth twisted faintly. Irritated.
“..Tch.”
A voice drifted in.
“So? What did Elos say?”
He closed his eyes and spoke to the empty space.
“Weren’t you watching?”
“No,” the voice replied, “I’m more interested in finding out where we come from.”
His mouth flicked, barely restrained annoyance.
“…Listen,” the voice continued, “ I found out that…”
“Another one of your nonsense theories again?”
“It’s not nonsense!”
“Whatever.”
Silence followed.
The sun hummed softly beneath him.
“So,” the voice tried again, softer. “What did Elos say?”
His fingers twitched.
A memory dragged itself forward.
“What are you doing here?”
“Cairon.”
He turned.
Elos stood a few steps away, hands in his pockets, expression unreadable as ever.
“Same thing you’re doing brother.”
Elos tilted his head slightly.
“I want to see what’s interesting about mortals.”
He scoffed.
“Nothing interesting about them.”
“Go back.”
His eyes narrowed.
The space between them tightened. Heavy. Like two forces that shouldn’t occupy the same moment.
Then Elos vanished.
The in-between collapsed on itself, like a folded page snapping shut.
He was back in the alley.
The smell of damp concrete. Trash. Cold metal.
Silence.
“Uh….pardon me, Lord Death.”
He looked down.
A reaper.
It was bowing so low its hood brushed the ground, its whole body trembling, hands pressed flat against the pavement.
“ I don’t know what to do,” it said, voice quivering.
“Her life thread has already been cut,” It continued, motioning beside it, words tumbling over each other. “should I take her soul?”
If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.
A girl lay on the ground behind the reaper, unconscious.
The reaper then started mumbling to itself, pacing in a tiny, frantic half-circle without ever fully standing.
“Lord Death was taking her, so she must die, yes …but lord Life saved her, so Lord Life wants her Living ..but her life thread has already been cut….Yes, I should take her soul…But she’s still alive…Right, Lord Death will…..But Lord Life...ah.. ahh.. I don’t know what to do…”
He stared at it.
This wasn’t one of the higher ones.
This was a common reaper.
Humanoid. Limited awareness. Assigned to mortals one at a time.
The kind that handled ordinary deaths.
They weren’t built for this.
Beings like her.
Wanderers.
Mortals whose life thread had already been cut, but their soul still anchored to their life.
Normally, this was when they summoned the seniors.
The chrono-reapers.
Active across timelines. Battle field harvesters. Planetary collapse handlers.
They carried weapons forged by Death, capable of severing the soul from the Life of wanderers outright.
But even then, they didn’t act without permission.
Because if Death hadn’t taken the life from a being, there was a reason. And asking late was better than being erased.
The reaper waited, head still buried.
Shaking.
He said nothing.
Then he vanished.
... PRESENT ...
The sun beneath him burned quietly.
He exhaled.
“I’m not going anywhere.”
“Heh…why are you talking to yourself?” the voice hovered again, genuinely creeped out.
He clicked his tongue.
“Shut up,” he muttered. “Don’t you have some stupid theories to dig up? Leave me alone,”
“...Hm. So mean.”
Silence returned.
Then
“Heeey..” the voice tried again, softer this time.
He sighed.
“You’re no fun anymore. I miss Elos. He stopped responding when I call and he hides his presence when I try to peek for him.”
His jaw tightened.
“You’re always so grumpy,” the voice continued, half-complaining. “And mean. You don’t even want to have fun anymore.”
“….We are having fun right now.”
He reached down and grabbed a handful of the sun beneath him, its light spilling through his fingers like liquid fire.
With a lazy flick of his wrist, he hurled it into deep space.
The blazing mass tore forward
Then instantly snapped back, flung through a ruptured path by an unseen force. A brief wormhole screamed open and sealed shut as the fireball slammed back into the sun like nothing had happened.
“..Still boring,” the voice said.
“Tch.”
Silence again.
Then
“Hey…”
“Mmm.”
“Remember when we first went down there?”
His gaze drifted outward, past the false sky, past the light, past the curve of the stars.
A memory opened.
“Let’s go down there,” Elos had said.
Their forms were silhouettes then. No edges. No faces. Just radiance folded into shapes.
“Why?” He had replied.
Elos pointed, with a glowing finger.
Below, a young mortal sprinted through a narrow street, clutching a loaf of bread. A man in a chef’s hat chased after him, pan raised, shouting.
“Get back here you little scoundrel! How many times have I told you not to come near my bakery!”
Elos laughed. A bright , echoing sound.
“Don’t mortals look fun?”
He turned to the distorted presence behind him.
“Let’s go.”
Before he could protest, Elos vanished.
The other presence followed.
He hesitated.
Then went after them.
They manifested behind a market stall.
Noise slammed into them instantly.
Voices. laughter. Shouting. Metal clinging. Fabric snapping in the wind.
Elos’s silhouette flared brightly, light bleeding everywhere.
“Hey,” he said. ‘you’re too conspicuous.”
Elos paused.
“Oh. You’re right.”
The glow folded inward.
A handsome young man stood there now. White hair. Long coat. A cane resting casually in one hand.
“Well?’ Elos asked. “Don’t I look…mortal.”
“You look ridiculous.”
“Come on.” Elos said. “Transform like me.”
He did.
White hair as well. Dark coat. Similar height.
Elos squinted at him, then grinned.
“Ooooo. We almost look alike.”
“S..Shut up!”
The other presence transformed too.
Then, Elos clapped his hands once.
‘Right! Mortals call each other by identities. Names.”
“Hmm,” he added dramatically. “Let’s see…I’ll be…”
He straightened.
“Elos. The traveler.”
He turned to the other presence.
“You’ll be ??? ”
Then Elos turned to him.
He pretended not to care.
Elos leaned in, squinting at his face with exaggerated seriousness.
“Hmmmm..”
He stiffened.
“You’ll be…Cairon.”
“It suits you.”
“why?”
“Heh.” Elos shrugged. “Its cool.”
They started walking.
The market swallowed them.
Vendors shouting prices. The smell of bread, spice, sweat. Children weaving through crowds. Coins clinking.
A woman bumped into Cairon, muttered an apology, vanished into the crowd.
Elos, meanwhile, had grabbed a stranger’s hands and forced them together.
“I’m Elos,” he announced proudly. “That’s my brother Cairon and that’s my ??? ”
Elos then leaned in towards the confused man.
“What’s your naaaame?’
“What is he doing,”
He groaned.
…..Death please take us.
He turned.
A woman lay on the ground near a stall, wrapped in rags. Eyes closed. Breath shallow. A cup with a few coins sat nearby.
Beside her sat a young girl.
Big brown eyes. Pretty. Dirty. Thin arms.
She held up the cup toward him and shook it softly.
The woman on the ground whispered, over and over.
“Death..take us…”
“She’s sick,” the girl said quietly.
Her voice cracked.
“No one will help us. My father died when I was young.”
He crouched.
“Why is she saying for Death to take her.”
The girl swallowed.
“She’s suffering. She’s in pain. She never stops saying that.”
“..why.”
“She hurts.” the girl whispered, tears spilling over. “I don’t like seeing her in pain. Sometimes I wish her prayers would be answered….so she can stop suffering.”
He stared at her.
“Why do mortals think I’m the solution to their problems?” he muttered.
“Huh?” the girl said, startled.
He grabbed her arm and pulled her a step closer.
“Heh…what are you do…”
“Fine,” he said flatly. “I’ll answer her prayer.”
He released her hand and stood.
“I’m going,” he shouted across the market.
Elos was mid-bite into an apple.
The vendor stared.
“..Sir,” the man said softly. “Do you have money?”
Elos waved a hand.
“Heeeeeeh? But we just got here!”
“I’m going.”
“Fine,” Elos called back. “I’ll stay a little longer”
He vanished.
Below him
A muffled scream.
“Mama….! Mama ! Somebody help.. Mama..!”
Above.
The other presence returned after an eon.
Without Elos.
The memory closed.
“ Pardon me, Lord Death.”
A chrono- reaper hovered in the space just off the sun’s edge. Bowing Low. Precise. Reverent.
Its cloak was woven from moving dark matter, fold sliding against themselves like slow gravity. Where a face should have been, only a swirling black vortex, turning inward forever.
He was now stretched out across the sun, one leg bent, his hand propping his head. He glanced down lazily.
“...Hoo. Hello there,” the voice shouted.
The chrono-reaper flinched. It then hesitated, unsure where to face.
“H..Hello, L ??? ”
It paused for a second, then straightened slightly, still bowed low.
“ I request permission…to terminate the life of a wanderer.”
His eyes half opened.
“Mortal designation. Mina Ashen.”
‘Reincarnations, one”
“The mortal’s life thread has already been cut. She now walks without one.”
“Lord Death was meant to claim the mortal. But Lord Death spared the mortal after the interference of Lord Life.”
A pause.
“If it pleases Lord Death, I request permission to use the scythe.”
A death-forged weapon. A thing that didn’t cut flesh.. but life. Capable of separating a soul from Life.
“...Alright,” he said.
The chrono-reaper bowed deeper.
“As you command, Lord Death.”
“If you’ll excuse me. I’ll be taking my leave L ??? ” It motioned to the voice.
It then dematerialized. The dark cloak folding inward until it was gone.
“Heeeeey.”
A head pushed itself out of space beside his face, way too close. Curious. Grinning.
“What mortal was that? Why didn’t you kill her?”
“It’s been long since you decided not to kill one. So this one must be special, huh?”
He shoved it away. The head vanishing from the nothing it came from.
“You’re too close.”
“Aww, c’mon,” the voice continued, circling back in, dramatic.
“Were you playing with her ? Were you gonna eat her soul! “
It gasped.
“...or were you planning to chain her soul forever? Oooh, eternal slavery, very on brand….”
“Shut up.”
But it didn’t .
“Still though, why did Elos interrupt. That reaper said that Lord Life saved her. If her thread was already cut, there was no reason for him to stop you.”
He froze.
Slowly, he stood up on the sun’s surface.
“...You’re right.”
Elos had masked his presence.
Elos had hidden. He didn’t want me finding him.
And then appeared the exact moment I grabbed her.
He vanished.
Below.
The chrono-reaper stood on the edge of the street, unseen by everything that breathed.
Mina stepped out of the apartment building.
Mid-step. Mid-breath.
The scythe formed in the reaper’s ‘arms’. Long, curved and blacker than the space between stars.
The reaper raised it.
The air screamed.
The blade came down.
Invisible. Unstoppable. Unnoticed.
The scythe cut toward where her soul was.
Something caught it.
The chrono-reaper shrieked.
“L..Lord Death?!”
He stood there, fingers wrapped around the scythe’s blade.
“Leave,” he said.
The chrono-reaper bowed instantly and dematerialized, taking the scythe with it.
Silence.
Time was frozen.
The girl hung mid-step. One foot off the ground. Hair lifted by a breeze that no longer existed.
He floated in front of her.
He leaned in, close enough to see the tiny reflection of the world in her brown eyes.
“why did Elos save you?” he asked quietly.
He stared at her for another second.
Then he let go.
Time snapped back.
The girl gasped.
She yelped and stumbled backward, falling onto her hands.
“Heh…?!”
