[Aethel]
Aelfric's boots pressed against the dampened earth, each step sinking slightly into the moss-laden ground, a crunch accompanying his every step. He moved with slow strides, but his mind—his mind was far from steady.
The air here was different. The presence of the Bringer of Death had faded, but it still clung to him, nestled into the marrow of his bones.
And yet, it was done, he had secured it. Immortality just like that, it had been too easy. Far too easy and that unsettled him. Aelfric's gaze flickered downward, to his own hands. They looked the same. He clenched his fingers, releasing them, feeling the familiar tension of muscle and tendons beneath his skin.
There was no difference, no great revelation, no grand metamorphosis. But something had changed. Hadn't it?
He blinked, recalling the moment—the sensation—as his soul was taken, it had been instantaneous. Seamless, like breathing. One second it had been there—his and the next, it was simply… gone.
No pain.
No struggle.
No fanfare.
It had been so casual that, for a fleeting moment, he almost believed nothing had occurred at all. And that, more than anything, unnerved him. Because this was Death he had bargained with. The most absolute force in existence. A force that did not bow. That did not make exceptions. That did not lose.
And yet, it had given him what he wanted without hesitation.
Why?
Why had it been so easy?
Aelfric exhaled sharply, shaking his head. Doubt was a useless thing, he had made his choice. And he had done so without regret. He thought of Calliope. Her voice, her laughter. The warmth of her presence beside him. He thought of Aviva. Her innocent, bright eyes. The way she clung to his hand, trusting.
They would be safe, they would be eternal. That was all that mattered, that was all that had ever mattered.
Even so...
"There is no such thing as eternity without a cost."
The Dragon of the End's voice echoed in his mind, deep and weighted with something more than mere words.
A warning.
"You do not yet understand what it is you have chosen, nor what has chosen you."
Aelfric frowned.
His steps slowed.
The dense trees above twisted with the passing wind, streaks of light breaking through in fractured rays, illuminating the damp underbrush. His fingers twitched slightly, his instincts still in disarray from his encounter.
Why had the dragon spoken as if he had made a grave mistake? Why had Death itself given him a chance to walk away?
And why—why had he ignored it?
He ground his teeth, gripping his own arm as an unfamiliar sensation crawled up his spine.
It was not fear, not regret. But something else, something… colder. Something that whispered at the edge of his thoughts, just out of reach, waiting to be understood.
Something that told him—
He had not won anything, he had merely been accepted. And the difference…
The difference would one day mean everything, Aelfric's steps halted.
The forest was silent. Too silent.
For a moment, he thought it was merely his mind playing tricks on him, the residual weight of his thoughts muddling reality. But then—
A sound.
Soft.
A humming.
It was faint at first, almost imperceptible, but as the moments stretched, it grew, mixing through the air with an elegance that should not belong in a place like this. A tune that was both distant and intimately close.
It was not normal, Aelfric turned sharply, every muscle in his body tensing.
He saw them, a figure stood just beyond the veil of hanging vines and twisted roots, bathed in the fractured light of the sun.
And they were beautiful, unfathomably, impossibly beautiful. Long, dark, wavy hair falling over their shoulders and down their chest, thick as ink yet soft as silk, catching the light in unnatural ways. Their face—pale, unblemished, sculpted with delicate features—bore an expression of slight happiness, the corners of their lips curling ever so slightly.
But it was the eyes that unnerved him most, light gray, almost silver. There was something in them—something that made Aelfric feel as though they were not looking at him, but through him.
The figure's attire was simple. A white, loose-fitting, collared robe, it clung to them in places yet fell away in others, almost translucent in certain angles, revealing the faint lines of their delicate collarbones and the smooth expanse of their shoulders.
There was no indication of who they were, no clear sign of whether they were man or woman.
Only that they were perfect, and that perfection itself was unnatural. The humming ceased and silence returned. The figure tilted their head, their half-smile lingering, then, in a voice that was neither deep nor high, neither masculine nor feminine—
"Ah… how beautiful." Their voice drifted effortlessly, carrying a tone of admiration. Their gaze did not return to him but rather swept across the landscape, drinking in the lush foliage with a reverence that felt almost dreamlike. They turned their face upwards. "This forest is… lovely, isn't it?"
The words carried no expectation of a response, Aelfric remained silent.
"The way the light filters through the leaves." They raised a hand, pale fingers brushing absently against a vine. "The way the wind whispers between the branches." Their eyes softened as they lowered their hand, as if feeling something Aelfric could not. "It breathes."
Their voice had a certain gentleness, but Aelfric could not shake the sensation that every syllable carried something else.
Then, they let out a quiet chuckle.
"Ah, forgive me." Their silver eyes finally returned to him, their smile deepening. "I tend to get lost in thought when surrounded by such beauty."
Aelfric stared, uncertain, nothing about them made sense.
They looked mortal.
They spoke like a poet.
Yet—they were neither.
He knew that instinctively and then, as if sensing his thoughts, their expression shifted, the humor in their eyes dimmed—just slightly.
They studied him.
Really studied him.
Then, with the same soft, conversational tone—
"…You reek of Death. Tell me, traveler…" their voice was almost teasing. "…what did you trade to become so empty?"
Aelfric's breath caught, the world around him shrank. For a moment, everything—the trees, the sky, the very air—felt distant. Muted. As if the presence before him had snuffed out something.
His pulse quickened.
His fingers twitched.
Not out of fear, but—
Shock.
Could they sense it? Had they felt it take his soul? Aelfric's expression remained composed, but beneath the surface, his mind raced. This was dangerous. Who—what—was this being? The stranger's eyes flickered with amusement at his reaction.
Then, their smile returned. And somehow, impossibly, that made them all the more terrifying.
"…Ah." Their voice dropped, thoughtful. "You weren't aware? How tragic."
Aelfric's expression hardened. His frown was slight, but the tension in his jaw was unmistakable. The stranger did not seem bothered by his silence.
If anything, they welcomed it.
They tilted their head slightly, their dark, wavy hair falling over one delicate shoulder as they regarded him with an expression too calm, too knowing. Their gaze was patient—almost as if they had already foreseen his reaction.
Then, they spoke.
"Ah…" Their voice was contemplative. "Death." The word left their lips with slight reverence, as if it were something sacred. "It is an uncomfortable thing, is it not?" They turned slightly, gazing past him, looking at nothing.
"It is cruel."
Their eyes softened.
"It is ruthless."
Their voice became quieter.
"It does not ask for permission."
They exhaled, almost as if laughing to themselves.
"Ah… yes. I suppose it is only natural that one would seek to avoid it."
They turned back to him, their expression was unreadable.
"That is why you are here, is it not?"
Aelfric's frown deepened, his hands clenched at his sides. He felt something prickling at his thoughts, something unpleasant, something invasive. It was as if their words were attempting to pull something out of him—something he did not wish to acknowledge.
But he did not back down.
"I know nothing of Death." The stranger blinked, then they smiled. And there was something about that smile that made the air feel heavier.
"…Yes." The way they agreed was unsettlingly gentle. "You do not." A beat of silence, then, they stepped forward. Aelfric did not move, but his muscles tensed, they were close now.
Not quite enough to be considered threatening, but enough for him to feel the faint brush of their presence, enough for him to catch the light, natural scent of something faintly floral. Their voice dropped into something quieter.
"…But that is not unusual."
The way they spoke felt less like a conversation and more like a lesson.
"Many fear Death because they do not understand it. They view it as something to be avoided, something to be fought against." Their pale fingers brushed idly against their own wrist as they spoke, almost absentmindedly. "…But Death should not be feared."
Their gaze locked onto him.
"It should be welcomed."
Aelfric's chest tightened.
Welcomed?
Something about that word unnerved him more than it should have. The stranger's voice remained soft, thoughtful.
"It is merely a cycle. One that must be followed." Their fingers stilled. "One that must not be broken."
Aelfric frowned, he understood what they were saying. He understood it too well. He had broken the cycle.
He had defied it, however he did not regret it.
Not for a single moment.
Not when he thought of Aviva.
Not when he thought of Calliope.
His resolve did not waver. Still just who was this? They did not feel powerful.
Not in the way the Dragon of the End had.
Not in the way the Bringer of Death had.
There was no suffocating pressure, no overwhelming aura that twisted the air and demanded reverence. No, this being was subtle, Aelfric's voice was steady as he finally spoke.
"Were you sent by The Keepers of Order?" The moment the words left his lips, he watched them carefully.
Their reaction was—
Subtle.
A brief pause. A slow blink. A shift in their expression that was neither amused nor offended, but something in between. They smiled, it was soft, almost melancholic.
"…No." Their voice was even, holding no deception, no hesitation. "I am not bound to them." They turned slightly, their gaze shifting toward the distant treetops as if watching something invisible. A gentle sigh escaped them. "…I am merely a weak God."
Aelfric's eyes flickered with mild intrigue, he did not seem surprised. The air around this being did not scream divinity in the way others might expect. There was no blinding radiance, no overwhelming presence that would bring mortals to their knees.
But there was—
Something. Something about the way they stood, the way they spoke. Something that felt older than the trees, older than the sky itself. Something that was not meant to be noticed, yet impossible to ignore.
A God.
And a weak one, at that.
Aelfric tilted his head slightly.
"…A God, then." His voice was measured, as if testing the weight of the title against what he saw before him. The God turned back to him, their pale grayish eyes glinting faintly in the forest light.
They chuckled.
It was soft—almost too soft for Aelfric to determine whether it was amusement or something else entirely. And then, as if sensing his thoughts, they tilted their head slightly.
"Does it disappoint you?"
Aelfric did not answer.
The God continued.
"You expected something grander, perhaps?" A beat of silence then, their lips curled ever so slightly. "Something that would command the heavens to part and the stars to tremble?"
Aelfric exhaled through his nose. "…No."
That much was true. The God observed him for a moment longer before nodding to themselves, satisfied. Then, their expression softened. And what they said next was far more unexpected.
"You should regain your mortality."
The words struck him, Aelfric's gaze sharpened. "…What?"
The God did not repeat themselves. They merely studied him, their delicate fingers brushing idly against the fabric of their loose, robe as they regarded him with something that almost resembled pity.
Aelfric's hands clenched into fists, his voice was firm.
"I have no need for mortality."
The God's lashes lowered slightly, their expression unreadable.
"…Do you not?"
There was no condescension in their voice nor mockery. Aelfric felt something stir inside him, something deep and unpleasant. But he ignored it as his jaw tightened, his stance did not waver, and he spoke without hesitation.
"I have already made my choice."
The God exhaled, as if they had expected this answer. Then, with a voice like a sigh, they murmured—
"…Then the consequences will be dire."
It was not a threat, not a warning, not even an attempt to convince him otherwise.
It was simply—
A truth.
The God's pale, delicate fingers brushed over the trunk of an tree, the motion almost absentminded. The bark beneath their touch was old.
"You are still uncertain," the God murmured, tilting their head ever so slightly, their grayish eyes closing momentarily.
Aelfric's lips pressed into a thin line.
"I am not," he stated firmly.
The God smiled faintly, tilting their head ever so slightly, even such a simple motion was graceful.
"Lies are unbecoming of you."
Aelfric inhaled sharply, his lips pressing into a thin line. "You do not know me."
"Perhaps not," the God murmured, their fingers tracing idle patterns into the bark. "But I know what you are. What you have done. What you have become."
Aelfric clenched his fists. "And what of it?"
The God sighed, turning their grayish eyes toward the filtered sunlight above, as though searching for something beyond sight. When they spoke again, their words were slow.
"Death is not a cruel thing."
His jaw tightened. The God's voice remained gentle, but there was something deeper in it now.
"It is merely a necessary order. An unbroken rhythm that all things must follow." They paused, watching him carefully. "And you… you have broken it."
Aelfric scoffed, though the sound was hollow. "Is that why you stopped me? To lecture me on the 'natural order' like some self-righteous priest?"
The God shook their head.
"I did not stop you. I merely spoke. It was you who hesitated."
Aelfric stiffened, the God continued, stepping closer, their presence light.
"Do you know what eternity truly is?" they asked, their voice carrying the weight of someone who had seen far too much. "Not as a dream, nor as a desire, but as a reality?" Aelfric's fingers twitched at his sides. The God's eyes studied him, as if searching for cracks beneath his armor. "Eternity is not freedom," they whispered. "It is a prison."
Aelfric scoffed again, sharper this time. "And yet they walk eternity unburdened."
The God let out a quiet, mirthless chuckle.
"Do they?" Their eyes darkened. "Have you ever wondered why those who supposedly are, are so… distant? Why The Keepers of Order are so detached from your suffering, your joys, your pains?" Aelfric said nothing. "It is because they have seen too much, lived too long." Their voice softened. "The weight of endless time strips away everything. Your joys. Your sorrows. Your love. Your hate. It all fades, crushed beneath the weight of infinity, until only emptiness remains."
They tilted their head slightly.
"That is the eternity you now walk toward."
Aelfric's fingers twitched again, the God noticed. Still, they pressed on, their voice growing quieter, yet somehow heavier.
"How many lifetimes do you think you can endure before you forget why you chose this path?" Aelfric flinched. It was subtle, barely perceptible—but the God saw it. "How many ages will pass before the names—of those you hold dear—become whispers in a mind so burdened with eternity that it forgets what it once held dear?"
Aelfric's fists tightened, the God's voice dropped lower,"…How long before you wish for Death, only to remember you can never have it?"
Silence, a long, heavy silence that stretched between them. For a single moment, Aelfric's resolve—wavered. Just a moment, he could feel the pressure of the God's words pressing against him, threatening to seep into the cracks of his determination, threatening to unravel him.
But then—
He thought of her.
Of Calliope's laughter, the way her hands felt in his, the way her lips curled when she smiled.
He thought of Aviva, her tiny fingers clutching his own, her wide, bright eyes filled with the kind of wonder only a child could have.
He thought of their future, their eternity.
And in that moment—
His hesitation shattered, Aelfric inhaled sharply, pushing the God's words from his mind, burying them deep, where they could not reach him. Then without another word he turned, his boots pressed into the soft earth as he walked away, his steps steady.
The God did not call out to him, did not try to stop him. They only watched, their expression unreadable.
A whisper, soft, barely heard. "…Another soul I could not guide."
There was no anger in their voice, no frustration.
Only resignation.
Only sorrow.
And as Aelfric disappeared into the depths of the forest—
The God closed their eyes.