The Sting of Death

Zoel stared at the massive tree in the center of the clearing, wondering how long it would take for him to come find her. Bright leaves shone almost like fire in the fading light of the evening sun. The leaves were orange today. Perhaps they would be purple tomorrow. It was hard to predict since this tree was a bit skittish and would only change colors when no one was watching.

The rush of wings behind her told her that the Aggaelo had found her.

“I figured you would be here,” Galiel said.

Zoel reached up and plucked a leaf from a low hanging branch, “I didn’t think many remembered this place.”

“You forget that I too am from the older generation,” he said.

“This tree happens to be my favorite in all the Spirit Realm,” she said.

“Is tree-gazing why you missed Assembly today?” Galiel’s remark carried a bite to it. Zoel still didn’t face him.

“I lost track of time,” she replied.

“You said that the last time.”

“The same was true last time.”

Galiel sighed. He spoke after a few moments, his voice softer this time, “fifteen was yesterday’s count.”

Zoel clenched her fist. Fifteen. The numbers were increasing daily. How many would fall next? She was perplexed to feel a low burn in her hand. A burn that was fading. Only then did she remember that the leaf was still in her fist.

“I’m sorry, little one,” she whispered as she threw the leaf into the air. The crinkled leaf floated and reattached to the tree.

“Fifteen, Zoel.”

“I heard you the first time,” she replied, watching the previously crinkled leaf regain its shape and vigor.

“And you still refuse to help?”

She turned to face the dark haired and broad-shouldered warrior; muscular arms crossed over his white robe.

“Fifteen highly skilled warriors. Slaughtered. Fourteen the day prior. Eleven the day prior to that-"

“Yes Galiel, I can count,” Zoel said softly.

“The reports are consistent,” Galiel said, “evidence of Death, every time. He needs to be stopped.”

“I know you came here today looking for my help, Galiel,” she said, “but I am afraid I cannot assist you.”

“Why not?” Galiel asked, throwing his arms in the air so violently, the silvery wings folded into the crease of his back stirred. “Death slaughters our own kind with reckless abandon, and you do nothing? If you fell under my authority, I’d-,”

“But I don’t fall under your authority,” Zoel snapped, “I cannot help you.”

Galiel wasn’t one to be intimidated, but the muscles in his exposed forearms did flex. Zoel pivoted to the right and began to walk away.

“Zoel. Wait,” Galiel called, walking after her, “where are you going? Zoel.”

Galiel grabbed her arm. Zoel rounded on him, the silver color around her black pupils began to glow.

“I’d advise you to let go of me, Galiel.”

“Do you not care? Do their sacrifices not—"

“Of course, I care,” Zoel spat. She stared into Galiel’s hard expression. Moments passed.

Galiel exhaled and let go of her arm.

“Forgive me,” he said with a dip of his head, “it’s just…as the Warrior Commander, I want you to help. But as your friend, I want you to be honest with me. I’ve never known you to be afraid of anything and your behavior lately has been uncharacteristic of you.”

Zoel glanced at him. Galiel’s piercing silver eyes had softened.

“You’ve been a more honest friend than I,” Zoel said, “so let me begin by being honest with you.”

She raised her right arm and pulled back the sleeve that went down to her wrist. The skin on her wrist and above the elbow was the color of smooth beach sand. The skin on her forearm, however, was pale and wrinkled.

Galiel’s brow furrowed as he stared. “What is that? What happened to you?”

“That is the wound I sustained from my last bout with Death,” she said.

His eyes grew wide.

“Your last bout with Death? That had to be-,”

“Ages ago,” she affirmed, “before he became…whatever he is today.”

“I was unaware he wounded you like this,” Galiel said in a low voice.

“I felt my very life force being sucked from my body. I froze in my panic,” Zoel said. She pulled her sleeve back down and cradled her injured arm. “If he had not relented, I would not be here standing with you today.”

Galiel studied her.

“You have the power of regeneration,” Galiel said, “I’ve seen it with my own eyes. Why hasn’t this wound healed?”

The wings folded into her back stirred. It was urgent. By the look on Galiel’s face, she knew that he felt the signal too.

“Look, I have to get back to the Operations HQ, but you should know that the Shadiem have coordinated a large-scale attack on two targets,” Galiel said, “they are currently attacking the Sanctuary for Region 3 and the United Stadium. Both are in Chicago.”

“You’re telling me because you believe Death is behind it, correct?” Zoel asked, understanding why he had come.

“It has his fingerprints all over it.”

Zoel didn’t speak for several moments.

“Zoel, I know you’re afraid. But if Death is truly behind this, you’re the only one that can stop him,” he pleaded.

“I am not a warrior, Galiel,” Zoel said, “I give life, I do not take it.”

“Would there ever come a time that taking life would be necessary to preserve it in others?”

She eyed him. “You tempt me to stray against my nature?”

“I would never expect you to do that which you do not wish,” Galiel placed his hand on her shoulder, “but if you decide to help, we believe he’ll be at the Sanctuary sight. Please, just consider it.”

Zoel closed her eyes and placed her hand over his.

When she opened them, Galiel had backed away and spread his wings. With a giant leap into the air, he was gone. Zoel lost track of how long she stared after him, for her mind wandered to the information that she, yet again, withheld from Galiel. The truth that she knew in the pit of the being, was that Death’s latest string of mass casualty attacks was an attempt to capture her attention. was trying to gain her attention. She knew that Death wouldn’t stop his open slaughter until she met him. Face to face.

Zoel turned to face the tree again. The leaves were blue this time. She sighed. Maybe it was time for her to face the unavoidable. She spread her wings and soared straight into the sky, knowing that if Death was behind this, he would not be at a site as high profile as the Sanctuary. Focusing her mind, a black portal appeared in the sky. As immediately as she entered, she was exiting on the other side. This time, she was flying down through the clouds towards the stadium. She continued her descent and witnessed the Aggaelai and Shadiem in full scale warfare.

An Aggaelo suddenly shot up from the roof of the stadium, trailed by a dozen of the black winged Shadiem. The Aggaelo was fast, but the enemy was gaining. The Aggaelo turned midair, aimed his sword, and shot a bolt of lightning at his pursuers. It struck down two, but the rest dodged. They surrounded him quickly, forming a sphere. She saw the glint in their red eyes from where she stood. He drew a second sword from a sheath on his back and turned round about. Even if he had five swords, he stood no chance.

A couple of the Shadiem leapt at him. Zoel didn’t have time to think, so she dove. As the Aggaelo focused on the ones in front of him, the Shadiem directly above him made his move downward. Zoel stretched her hand forward. Thick, green vines erupted from the flowers attached to her robe. They immobilized the Shadiem’s arm, halting his black sword mid-swing. The vines aggressively covered his entire body in vines.

“Warrior,” Zoel called, “strike here.”

The Aggaelo looked up and shot a bolt of lightning through the vines. Black, inky smoke spilled out and the vines fell as the Shadiem’s body disappeared from existence. Two Shadiem flew wide and came at her from each side. She aimed her hands. Vines exploded out of her sleeves and ensnared them.

While she wrapped the two Shadiem, a third drew near, preparing to slice through her exposed front. Red murderous eyes sunken back into his reptilian skin, stared her down.

“If you would have minded your own business, maybe you would have survived,” he hissed as he swung for her neck. She reached up at the last second and caught the blade in her hand.

“Your power does not compare to mine,” she said. Vines exploded from the flowers on her torso and ensnared him. With her snare and his lightning, they finished off the last of them.

“You’re an impressive fighter,” Zoel said, as the Aggaelo struck down his last foe.

“Thanks,” he said, turning towards her. His eyes went wide as if noticing her for the first time. “I know who you are. You’re Mother of the Earth.”

Zoel smiled. “Yes, they do call me that, don’t they? But my real name is Zoel. And yours?”

“I am Hum,” he said, sheathing both blades above his shoulders.

Zoel studied him. Something didn’t add up. Silver hair and dual swords were telling, but the sleek armor and a carrying pouch over his right hip?

“You’re a son of Lytning?”

Hum puffed his chest out. “Yes. Yes I am.”

“But you’re not a warrior,” she stated more than asked, the realization dawning on her. She had heard that among the sons of Lytning, only one of them was not a warrior. “You’re a courier, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” he said, chest deflating, “yes I am.”

Zoel almost laughed but restrained herself so as not to offend him.

“Hum, you have great skill with a sword, I’ll give you that,” she said, “but look around you. This is all out war. What is a courier like you doing on the front lines?”

Hum looked taken aback and she wondered if she offended him.

“I have looked around and I see my brothers and sisters risking their lives,” he said and pointed to himself, “since that is true, how could I just sit on the sidelines?”

Zoel folded her arms.

“Besides, there are humans that I must protect,” he said and for a second, glanced down at the stadium.

Zoel eyed him.

“This battle has to be more dangerous for you than our warrior brethren,” she said, “aren’t you scared that you’ll die?”

He looked at her as if he never considered the question before.

“Scared? Well…yeah, I suppose I am scared,” he admitted, “but if I was so afraid of death that I neglected to join the battle…I suppose I wouldn’t be able to live with myself.”

Zoel studied him.

“You speak with old wisdom, for a young courier,” she said with a smirk.

He broke into a smile.

“Return to your battle, young Aggaelo, and may the Most High One protect you.”

Hum placed his right arm across his chest. She returned the salute. He spun on the spot, and dove towards the stadium.

She felt it then. A stinging pain in her right arm. She had not felt pain there since he first injured her. This could only mean that he must be close.

She glanced around. There. On the roof of a tall building at the edge of her sight, was Death’s silhouette. The sight of him was enough to make fear crawl up from the pit of her core. She could run. She could fly away.

No.

“If I run from Death now, I won’t be able to live with myself,” she said. Unfurling

her wings, she pushed off the very air itself and flew towards the building.

She halted above the rooftop and what she saw made her insides turn. Two warriors lay on the concrete rooftop, skin wrinkled and dry like a pale prune. White smokey light escaped from their corpses as their bodies dissipated. Death stood in the middle of the rooftop dressed in his long black cloak with his hood obscuring his face. He lifted up a third warrior in his hands. The warrior flailed helplessly as Death drained the life from him. Zoel shuddered, remember her own encounter. Zoel landed on the rooftop as Death threw the warrior’s lifeless body to the ground.

“Wonderful. Simply wonderful,” he hissed with delight, “tell me, did you come alone because you were afraid to let the others watch you die?”

“Your talk is as bold as ever,” she said, “especially hiding behind a hood.”

“I would remove it,” he said, “but with my new form, that would end our fun prematurely.”

“New form… new wardrobe… you guys have even given yourselves new designations. Shadiem, right? Creatures of the shadows?”

“After we left, the old status became… well… useless,” Death said with a shrug.

Zoel stared at him.

“Death…let us talk plainly. What are we doing up here?”

“Took you a while to respond to my message,” he said, “I was starting to believe I needed to slaughter a whole city of humans and Aggaelai before you came to meet with me.”

“What is the point of all of this?” She snapped, “do you not care for the blood of the innocent that you’ve shed?”

“Please tell me you aren’t using that term to describe the humans,” Death said and waved with his arm, “look around. Five minutes is all it takes to see that they are far from innocent. The fact that I take their lives before they cause more destruction is a sheer act of mercy.”

“And who are you to determine that?” She yelled, planting her foot, “who are you to determine who should live and who should die apart from the divine guidance? You make yourself out to be some kind of god?”

“I am a god,” Death snapped.

“You know nothing of deity, and you never will,” Zoel snapped.

“I know more than your father ever did.”

“Our father,” Zoel stated, anger flushing her face, “the Most High is the father of us all.”

“Not anymore,” Death said.

“What? So you have a new father, now?” Zoel asked, folding her arms, “tell me, how’s that going for you these days? I hear he’s not even well enough to speak.”

“He’s not my father, either,” Death hissed, shoulders hunched. She could see the glow of his red eyes beneath the supernatural darkness that shrouded his face. “I follow no one. It just so happens that our paths align.”

Zoel stared at him.

“Why did you bring me out here, honestly?” She asked in a low voice, “if it’s to argue high points of philosophy, then we’re wasting time.”

Death laughed. “The answer is simple. I brought you out here to kill you. To finish what I started all those years ago.”

“If that was your aim from the beginning, then why didn’t you do it then?” Zoel asked.

“Wielding that power was new for me, I couldn’t control it fully,” Death said, examining his hands, “things are different now.”

“You’re a liar,” Zoel accused, “you relented because deep down, you were afraid.”

“Afraid?” Death laughed again, “afraid of what?”

“Afraid of the harm that you caused me.”

Death stopped laughing.

“Back then, there were things you cared about,” Zoel continued, “lives that you cared about.”

Death stood motionless.

“Look at me and tell me you never valued our friendship,” Zoel stated, “tell me those years meant nothing to you.”

“You’re just like the humans,” Death said, sounding agitated, “always reminiscing about times that have passed. For this reason, you fail to evolve into the future, like I have.”

“You call this evolution?” Zoel motioned to him, “and what did you lose in the process?”

“Enough talk,” Death stated, sticking his hand out to his side. His scythe, which was standing on its own accord by the roof’s edge, zoomed into his hand, “time for me to end your life. For good this time.”

He lunged with surprising speed. Zoel shot roots from her sleeve, forming into the shape of a sword. She clutched the rough bark handle and blocked his blade—the tip only an inch from the back of her neck. Death swung again. She blocked. Slash. Block. Slash. Block. They circled each other. She shot vines from her other hand. He grabbed them. The vines shriveled and become brittle.

Breaking free, he jumped back and launched his scythe at her like a boomerang. She jumped back to evade—not quick enough. The blade sliced across her stomach, tearing through her robe and into her skin. Pain erupted at the laceration. The blade snapped back into his hands. She winced. The wound issued light smoke. It took a minute, longer than usual, but the wound began to close itself, relieving the pain along with it. Within moments, it was sealed shut.

“You can’t keep healing yourself forever,” he hissed, launching himself forward. They entered another round and this time, he slashed her shoulder. The pain was immense but didn’t last long as it healed. They continued to round each other. He nicked her in the arm. This pain too was also intense but faded as it healed. With each healing, Death became more and more enraged, and his technique grew wild. Sloppy.

He went for a throat slash.

She ducked and pierced his shoulder pocket with her wooden blade. Death screamed as his shoulder sizzled. He swung back, knocking her across the head with the broad side of his blade and he jumped back.

She spun into a quick recovery. Raised her hand towards him to fire and that’s when she saw it.

Death flinched.

She paused, restraining the vines, and stood fully. All this time, she built Death into this formidable, larger than life opponent when in reality, he was no different than her. It clicked in her mind then. Before it was a theory. Now it was confirmed. She knew his true reason that he called her to this place.

Death recovered quickly and steadied himself. She knew he was going to use his fatal attacks, this time. He launched himself and slashed. She didn’t move. The slash came short. A feint, just like she figured. He let go of his scythe and reached his soul sucking fingertips towards her. Instead of guarding, she dropped her sword.

Death clamped his hands around her throat and injured arm and lifted her into the air. She couldn’t see his face but could sense his confusion.

“Silly girl,” he hissed, “why did you drop your guard?”

“Earlier, you said that your reason for calling me was so that you could kill me,” she said, staring into his eyes, “but that was only a half truth, wasn’t it? Ever since I’ve known you, you’ve had a single goal. Now that goal has become an obsession.”

“Humor me,” he said, tightening his grip.

“This isn’t about killing me at all, this is about you proving to yourself that you are better than me. That your power to take life can overcome my power to give it. That you, yourself are immortal,” she accused, “I was too blinded by my own pain to notice before but not I see it clearly. You’re afraid. You fear your own death.”

Death roared and slammed her onto the concrete.

“You think you have me all figured out, don’t you?” He hissed, “I fear nothing. Nor do I fear anyone. I want you to remember that as you fade from existence.”

She felt it in her arm first. The cold burn as Death sucked the life from her. Last time, she was young. Last time, she panicked. Last time, she wasn’t ready.

But she was ready now.

Zoel concentrated her energy. The areas that previously became cold with Death’s touch were now filled with warmth. The coldness of Death’s touch, contradicted by the warmth of her power. Death’s frustration became palpable as he leaned closer, trying to drain as much as he could. Zoel matched his power with her own. A stalemate was the result.

“You can’t resist me forever,” Death spat, “when you run out of energy, my power will prevail.”

“It is true that my energy is limited,” she replied, “but so is yours. Are you willing to maintain this embrace until the end? I came here prepared to die. What about you?”

Death roared again. Lifting her from the concrete, he threw her across the roof. Zoel recovered midair and landed softly on her feet. She felt her neck. A little bruised, but still warm and healthy.

“You cannot kill me,” Zoel said, “and I will not kill you. Where does that leave us?”

He raised his hands to his hood.

“I cannot kill you? Let us see then.”

“It amazes me that all this time, I have feared you,” she said, holding her arm, “but now I only pity you.”

“Pity me? Pity me?!” He howled, “I am a god!”

“No,” Zoel shook her head, “you are lost.”

Death let go of his hood and lunged towards her again. A flash of white moved in front of her. As soon as Galiel’s foot hit the rooftop, he spun, drew his sword and slashed. Death backed away just in time.

“Only fools rush to their demise, Galiel,” Death said, “but I’ll be happy to fulfil your request.”

Galiel stood straight, sword aimed. “Sorry to disappoint, but it’s not my time.”

One by one, Aggaelai entered the battle space. Some in front of her, some behind, some in the sky, and one on each corner of the rooftop.

“Surrender yourself, Death,” Galiel said, “unlike Zoel, I will kill you without hesitation.”

Death looked around and sheathed his scythe on his back.

“Don’t speak as if you could,” he warned, then turned to Zoel, “we’ll continue this another time. And rest assured, our next encounter will be your last.”

Dark smoke spilled out from Death’s hood and surrounded him. When the smoke cleared, he was gone.

Galiel sheathed his sword on his hip. “All of you, head to battle. Let’s wrap this up quickly.”

The warriors saluted and took off, one by one, until Galiel and Zoel were the only ones remaining. He faced her.

“I should be honored,” Zoel said, “the Warrior Commander arrived to the battlefield on my behalf.”

Galiel smirked as he studied her neck and arm. “When I focused on your battle, I saw that Death had you in his grip. Are you ok?”

“Yes,” she said rubbing her neck, “for the first time in a long time, I am.”

“I thought his injuries were lasting,” Galiel observed in surprise, “but your neck is healing. How is that possible?”

“Many beings, including Death, misunderstand my power. They think it is about nature or healing or spontaneous generation” she began, “those things are only partially true. My true power, is vibrant life.”

Galiel cocked his head. “Vibrant life?”

“Yes,” Zoel said with a laugh, “with my ability to create vibrancy in life, I can overcome the sting of Death.”

“Does that mean your arm has healed too?”

Zoel rolled up her sleeve. Her arm still held the injury, but it had not spread.

“I thought you were able to overcome Death’s power,” he said, “why does your injury remain?”

“Death cannot kill me as long as I push him back with my power of vibrant life,” Zoel began, “but the wounds of Death are complicated. Some can be healed quickly. Others stay with us for a lifetime.”