Day 12 - Gravestone
(Find information about the Daily Writing Challenge here.) @daily-writing-challenge
warnings: light violence
Summary: Blix has an unfortunate meeting with an old acquaintance.
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“It’s lonely, isn’t it?”
The serene voice over Blix’s shoulder startled her from her reverie as she sat before a well-kept gravestone in Raven Hill’s cemetery. She whirled around, meeting the gaze of none other than Makaria Lamb. The woman was perched on a nearby battered headstone, and a small, sympathetic smile across her face. “Being surrounded by souls, with no one else to understand their cries but you.”
Blix huffed, turning back to the gravestone of Jonathan Voronin. her eyes skimmed the familiar epitaph – “Beloved son, brother, and friend. May he rest in the grace of the Light.” Makaria seemed to pay Blix’s silence no mind; if she did, she didn’t seem to take offense. “You know,” the raven-haired woman said with a hint of contemplation, “there is a plus side.”
That made Blix glance, frustrated, over her shoulder. “I doubt it, truly,” she snapped. “You cannot seriously be implying there are benefits to my curse, Makaria.”
“There are,” Makaria fired back, her brow raising defiantly. “It will end with you, for one — you, my dear, will never bear children. Boom. Curse broken.” That sent a wave of anger washing up Blix’s spine, and she took a breath to calm herself.
Regardless, Blix scoffed and rolled her eyes. “Dying childless, ending my family lineage, and being plucked from perfectly good afterlife to work for you herding souls to Oribos for all eternity. What a fucking blessing. Gee, thanks, wow. Happy Winter’s Veil to me.”
Makaria frowned, dismounting her seat. “You were the one to strike this bargain. You agreed to the deal.” Her tone steadily grew more tense. “You chose to serve as a reaper. Do not blame me for your own regrets.”
“You never explained all of it! You let me strike a fool’s bargain when I didn’t know the full extent of the Shadowlands’ chaos! Things have changed, Makaria, and if you intend to force me into servitude, you are no better than the Jailer HIMSELF!”
Blix’s voice had reached a familiar scream, and its echo reverberated through the cemetery. Her hair, stark white in the moonlight, seem to float around her before dropping back into its normal state. A few heaving breaths left her, and Makaria remained utterly silent.
Then, she stepped forward – and slapped Blix clear across the face. The sting lingered on a rapidly-bruising cheek, and Makaria’s glare was vicious – death incarnate.
“You could have been my finest,“ she hissed through clenched teeth. “You want your freedom so badly, Alexandra? To be left in pieces when your soul falls to the Maw? Very well. Take it. Our deal is off. May you fully see the consequences of what you’ve done to yourself.” She turned, striding off.
Blix was alone. She forced herself to regain some sense of composure. She had been to the Shadowlands – Blix knew the Kyrian of Bastion were meant to deliver souls for judgment. Makaria was certainly no Archon. What is she? Blix wondered to herself.
A chill settled over her as she realized that whatever the answer was, Blix had just made a potent enemy… and, doubtless, Makaria would eventually come to collect.