Anyone who tried to wield the legendary sword would instantly turn to dust. Your country uses this as a method of execution. Little did you know, you were the chosen one it was waiting for.
They led me down the corridor, wrists shackled. The only noise was the shuffling of feet and the chains rattling as I walked. The verdict had come only days prior to this. It was, however, to be expected. These hands that were shackled were the very same hands that drained the light from the eyes of the Queen. But I hadn't had much of a choice. She was a tyrant by nature, and anyone could see that, given enough time, she would have run this country to ruin. Sure, the resistance had been on my side. Raids and battles had been fought and won. But here, now, I was alone. I stayed behind to take the fall. More sense was to be had by allowing myself to become a martyr instead of allowing everything we built become fodder to a preventative massacre. It seemed to be the better sacrifice. Anything that would lead to a free world for all of Berra. The irony of being sentenced to death was not lost on me. Elves aren't known for dying, quite the opposite really. We're like cockroaches in a way, you simply cannot rid the world of us. When it came to execution, there was always the matter of being reincarnated. Finding the elf who the criminal reincarnated into was troublesome in many ways. Firstly, it could be any child. The lucky thing being that birth rates among our people had been low for the last four hundred years. Secondly, the morals of whether you wait for the child to grow to enact punishment or not were always debated upon. On one hand, no one in their right mind wanted to kill a child. On the other, the mental wear of growing up knowing that once you reach a certain age, you will be killed? It was too much. Then, about 177 years ago, the sword Lerethendriel was discovered by a less than fortunate expedition group. Anyone who lifted the sword, and swung, was vaporized by it's power. Researchers found information on the legendary sword, Lerethendriel being created by the goddess of death, Xectra herself, for her champion. It was thousands of years old and yet had found not a single person worthy of its powers. And so it became a tool for execution. The cost for wielding it without the consent of fate, was your very soul.
I would not be reincarnating ever again. This was my final run.
Reaching the end of the hall, my shackles were undone and i was shoved into the chamber. It was all very unceremonious, which was ironic. The culture surrounding my people was filled with ceremony. The chamber was a tall domed room, filled with seats for people to witness my demise. They all had to be sure it happened, after all. You couldn't blame them. In a world as wonderful as our own, anything could happen. There was no speaking. No cacophonous uproar, goading my demise. Only silence and the somber feeling of eyes, all on me. Trepidation danced upon my heart like one might dance upon the grave of someone they truly loathed. Before I could register anything in my mind, I was standing before Lerethendriel. A rectangular altar, carved from moonstone, gently cradled the blade. There was nothing special about it. To the naked eye, it was a plain longsword. Though, there was a glimmer to it. Perhaps the magic that made people enticed to wield it.
"Nasir Adsatra," The voice of the leader of the Berran High Council seemed to boom through the room, though she spoke in a conversational volume, "You have been sentenced to Unmaking for the assassination of Queen Kali Enven. Out of respect for the elven soul, you are permitted final words. What say you?" I was silent for a few moments, gathering myself. When the words revealed themselves to me, I leveled my gaze with the room and allowed my voice to carry. "Look back on this day. Look back and remember that you sentenced to death a man who cared for you and your children's freedom. Look back and remember your mistakes." A hushed murmur ran throughout the room. I turned my gaze up to the ceiling, the open roof showing me the waning crescent of the moon, surrounded by stars. This would be the last time I would ever get to see it. I wouldn't even be able to experience this in the astral plane... The moons light washed over me, and I could feel Manera's embrace. Almost as if the moon god himself was reassuring me that all would be well. I did this for a good cause.
All would be well. Without another second to lose, my gaze turned down to the lone blade and I lifted my hand over the hilt. A pang of sadness, anger, and fear flooded through me. This wasn't fair. I did this for the good of this country, and they chose to betray me. It wasn't fair.
Taking a resigned breath in, one I knew to be my last, my hand closed around the hilt of the sword. Without hesitation, Lerethendriel was lifted into my grasp. Without a second to lose, I swung the bade in a clean arc.
I had attended these executions before. At this point, a bright light would appear from within the wielder, as if their very soul was combusting from within them. Directly after that, their body would become white hot before disintegrating into nothing. So hot that not even the ash was left behind.
Instead, I was met with gasps of shock and horror from within the room.
My being was filled with a cool, reassuring feeling. The fear in my chest replaced with something new. A feminine voice permeated my mind. 'Nasir Adsatra...it is so good to know you at last.' My eyes opened as the feeling of the blade changing in my hand became apparent. The blade curved as the hilt lengthened exponentially. in moments, Lerethendriel was revealed to be a scythe of celestial make. The blade was deep black, almost glittering. As if the stars themselves had been captured and folded into the metal. I couldn't tear my eyes away, looking in awe at the scythe in my hands. I should be dead now....but I wasn't. Before outrage and accostment could come, a horrified silence fell over the room. My eyes lifted to see a figure, easy a foot or two taller than myself, shrouded in black. Almost as if the figure was shrouded in the astral plain itself. It was no secret who stood here before us. Who stood protectively in front of me.
Xectra. "This man shall not be harmed, by my orders." It was no mistaking it, that was the voice that had sounded in my mind the second I had lifted Lerethendriel into my hand. Xectra had spoken to me. To me, of all people. What was this? "I, Xectra, goddess of what comes after. Goddess of death. Guide of lost souls, claim Nasir Adsatra as my Reaper. A messenger of peace and a deliverer of justice." The figure turned towards me, glowing red eyes showing from beneath the cloak. "Do you vow your soul to my cause and accept your duties as my chosen, Reaper Nasir?" A hand extended from the cloak, a skeletal mirage. A moment passed as I finally registered the shock. "I vow to you my very core." My voice carried and I lifted my free hand to hers. Instead of bone, there was soft flesh holding my own hand. "It has been decided!" Her voice boomed across the room and in a burst of shadows, we were both gone. Elsewhere.
I had closed my eyes tightly, my grip firm on Lerethendriel and on Xectra's hand. As if afraid I would fall to the abyss. The fear was still there, but now it was accompanied by curiosity and caution. I feared what I would see when I opened my eyes. Then, I felt a breeze. The air was salty. When I opened my eyes, we were in a field. Looking to the horizon, I saw water in the distance glistening with the moonlight. The cloaked figure of Xectra stepped away, releasing my hand. With a wave of hers, the shadowy cloak surrounding her disappeared. Before me stood a woman with olive skin, short black hair, and red eyes. Her sclerae were black and she had no pupils. She was dressed somewhat akin to what I would imagine a ranger to wear, with a scythe radiating necromantic energy slung across her back.
And she smiled at me. "Apologies for the theatrics, I find it's the easiest way to deal with your kind." I blinked a few times, trying to process everything. "Am I...Am I dead?" A question asked with all seriousness, was met with raucous laughter. The goddess seemed to be trying not to fell over from the force of it. "Oh gods no," She said brightly, "On the contrary, you've been given another chance. You will be my champion, my Reaper, and guide lost and wary souls from death to the afterlife." "I live in servitude to you?" I ask. "Oh no no, you live freely and can do whatever you please. Your only job is to keep safe the souls of the passed. You belong to a country no longer. You belong to the world." Xectra approached me happily, giving me a large and firm hug before I could react. After a moment, she released me and held my shoulders at arms length. "You will learn that death isn't as feared as people make it out to be. In the meantime, forge your own path. Become your own person. And remember, if things get tough, I'll always be here." The woman tapped my head before taking a few steps back and turning towards the edge of the island. "By the way, so you don't get too lost, you're currently standing on the Isle of Parni. Consider this your starting point." In a burst of shadow and smoke, she was gone. And I was alone. Though, nowadays, I dont really think I'm all that alone.
