Collection of Short Stories

The Saint with the Reaper's Scythe

The new morning light cast warmth over the field. The sun cast a golden glow over you as you surveyed the surroundings; the young morning sky a mash colours; the wind that caused the grass to sway and fallen leaves to dance; the flock of white birds that flew east of you. Peace echoed all around you. Behind, you could hear the banners flapping in the wind; the white silk banners standing proudly, the golden dove shining in the light, emphasized by the black sword behind it. You could feel the eyes of those under the protection of your sign, watching you, waiting for you.

Your black armour stood out from the landscape, bringing all eyes to you. The reflected gold caused a saint-like glow to be cast around you, the white fabric underneath enhancing your angelic aura. Turning you back to your people, you plucked your sword from where it was plunged into the ground, observing the gash it left behind. A small price to pay for the world's safety, rather a small healable gash than one that would threaten all who lived harmoniously upon its luscious, giving, and opportunistic land. Pulling yourself from thought, you averted your eyes to the graceful landscape, you took in the price of ultimate peace and harmony of all creatures.

Bodies lay scattered like wildflowers in a meadow; patches of the emerald grass now glistened like millions of ruby needles; the crimson liquid filled the small rune crevices that lay in your sword set near the hilt, making them stand out from the dark metal. The runoff blood dripped off the sharp tip of the void reminiscent metal, filling the wound it had created.

Your royal purple cape floated behind you with the aid of the gentle breeze. Displayed on the back was the rune of Hagalaz set in a shimmering gold, slightly tainted with dry splatters of blood. Despite this, the air around you still radiated with power and authority, any opposing beings would've cowered, cringed, and ceased their struggling had you been near them. It's a pity that so many had to perish for the greater collective, many good fighters wasted for the lies of a silver-tongued false goddess. I shall make sure their sacrifice shall not be forgotten or dismissed regardless of their brainwashed beliefs and inevitable demise brought on by the foolish mistake of thinking that they can better me and my dutiful people. A conclusion was reached; a solution to honour their deaths and to make sure that there would not be a repeat of such inhumane events.

Your eyes settled on her serpentine figure, laying discarded on the floor where you left her. As your footsteps grew nearer, grey eyes opened, flicking up to meet yours. "Defiant till the end. How...admirable." A smirk playing on your lips, looking from her broken form to her broken bow that lay to her right. A swift foot removed the two pieces away from any desperate hands, you didn't want any distractions or irritations, not now when you could taste triumph feel victory's reverence shining down, basking you in all her glory. Now was not the time to disappoint or fail. A small flicker of pity ignited as you turned your attention back to the fallen Elf, this was quickly suffocated at the remembrance of what she'd cost you throughout your life; friends, family, good soldiers, all cut down without remorse by her kin. Today, today would be the day that they could all rest peacefully, knowing that you avenged their deaths and condemned her to an equal punishment, an early demise. You would execute the Elven abomination, the one who had ordered many of your loved one's deaths as well holding the bloodied reaper's scythe herself.

You brought your onyx blade up to your face, its slim metal dividing your face in half. You shut your eyes. Memories took hold, ones of joy, ones of love, ones of young naivety. You let waves of comfort wash over you, lulling you into a sense of false security. You let the silence take you away, you let her whisper words of hope and belonging, promising that you'd see them all again, experience the joy of life once more. You almost submitted to her mothering words, almost let yourself run away and become the young, happy child that you once were. The dam built by echoes of memories and the hollow words uttered by death's sister, held just for a moment longer before it shattered, flooding you with the multitudes of loved one's deaths you'd witnessed and failed to stop. Great waves of guilt, loss, and remorse crashed down, threatening to drown you, pull you under and break you into worthless nothingness.

Eyes flying open. Anger pulsing. A deafening roar in your ears.

Your hands threw themselves above your head, repositioning your weapon so that the tip no longer pointed to the red-stained blue sky, but now hovered threateningly above the murderer.

Time slowed.

You saw her grey eyes grow wide with shock. An arm was thrown above her head in a futile attempt to shield and protect herself-not that the Gods would allow such an act. She couldn't even bare to look at you, head down to the floor, eyes squeezed shut. Most likely a small ounce of hope for a quick and painless demise flashed through her mind. A death not fit for such a bloodied tyrant.

The Gods resumed their entertainment.

A roar escape your lips. Splitting the silence caused by the collective held breath of the observing wind and young day. Voices of Gods only heard by you cheered your name, crying out that you finish what you vowed to do all those years ago.

Plunging downwards, burying the blade into her chest. Her scream not heard over your anguished, thunderous cry.

A tear fell, marking a path down your face through the dried dirt and blood from the laborious battle that brought you to your long awaited, triumphant victory. A singular tear, not for the death-claimed husk that lay before your feet, but for the innocent lives it had claimed, tortured, and toyed with.

 
Retrieving your sword from the slaughterer's soulless shell, you never spared it another glance, instead slowly making your way back to your loyal brothers and sisters, who stand in wait for their next order, their next victory. You admired the fresh blood on the sword's blade, observing how beautifully it gleamed in the sunlight. Placing in into its scabbard which hung by your side, you took the reins of your horse and gracefully mounted. Atop your high perch, gazing into the distance, you found yourself lost in thought.

Where next? This land has been purged of all those who seek to threaten it, no one now dares oppose me, not after this display. I have avenged all the deaths of those who I was unable to save from the senseless Elven onslaught, I have achieved my greatest dream, but yet, I still feel restless, like I can do so much more with my newfound power.

That's when the idea planted itself like a seed in my mind, a realisation brought on by the flowering of such an ambitious dream. This was never the end goal, but merely the beginning to something much greater. Firstly, I would challenge the Gods themselves, walk amongst them with the intention of becoming their better. Once I've become the God of all Gods, I shall venture out into the dark, unforgiving depths of space and free all those who I find. Starting by removing their oppressors, giving them an idol (or a better replacement), and finishing with the removal of their freedom and choice. I'd always believed that the bright lure of freedom diminishes life's joy in a mad scramble for power and identity. As well as that, choice always presented people with everlasting regret, leaving them wondering what would have happened if they'd chosen the other option; would they be happier? Would they have all they've ever truly desired and more? Or would they be plagued with untold horrors, stuck in their own personal hell? I wouldn't allow my children to suffer like that, so by removing freedom and choice, they'd be happier and have more time to enjoy the wonders of their world. They'd be free from the obligations of life in an oxymoronic kind of way.

People, and all of the Universe's creatures were made to be ruled and, in the end, will always-and only-kneel to me.