Death's Successor Completed.

Chapter Eight Eclipse

Racheal groaned, keeping a tight hold on Luna, who swayed on her feet for the tenth time. She murmured something Racheal couldn't comprehend, about the black soul failing into the hands of demons.
In her line of work, she encountered supernatural beings, most fairies, dragons to name a few but never a demon. Those creatures were the origin of myths and legends. Then again, she carried an existing myth on her back. The storm Luna created had cleared the moment they knocked the girl out of the unknown assailant. They vanished without a trace, with the stolen soul in their possession.

She sniffed the air, catching the scent of a foul odour as the drying blood stuck to her armour. Racheal wondered if the stench came from herself or Luna. All she wanted to do was to return home and bathe. The abandoned building came into sight. Racheal entered the tavern. The usual regulars vanished to whatever deserted building they called home, while the mercenaries retired to their rooms the warlord generously provided.
Within minutes, they escorted Racheal and an unconscious Luna into the warlord's office. She placed Luna down on the soft velvet couch. She checked the bleeding wound on the black of her head.
The bleeding slowed, but soiled the cushion underneath the girl's head. She heard a quill being placed in an inkpot. The warlord by her side in seconds. He inspected the wound, snapping his fingers, summoning a personal guard, standing outside.
'Bring the local healer here.' He ordered.

'Yes, sir.' The young man left without another word, his armour clanking as he descended the stairs.
'I assume you completed the job?' He asked. He searched her belt, looking for something of interest. 'Sorry Silvius, someone stole the soul, someone we couldn't identify; however, Greyson is dead. I'm here to collect my irons. Even if Luna lost the soul, she can do our job.' Racheal reported.
'I trust your judgement Scarlet Blade, I will keep the reaper for now.' Racheal smiled. Relieved, Luna tried speaking, her voice raw and horse, barely above a whisper. Silvius placed a hand on her forehead.
'She sounds feverish, but she is refusing the healer's aid. 'The warlord leaned closer. Luna's chilling breath tickled his ear, but he heard her words. 'She is requesting a soul.' Silvius frowned, thinking.

He stood, approaching his desk, he unlocked the bottom drawer, he gently grabbed the last hourglass he held in his possession. The blue soul bounced inside, glowing brightly after fifty years entrapped. He sighed, crushing the glass, freeing the orb inside. He held the floating orb in his hands,
'Racheal, hold the girl's head, you're gentler.'
She rose an eyebrow, but never questioned him. She gently lifted Luna's head, so the warlord could feed her the soul. A pained moan escaped Luna's lips. She tried struggling against Racheal's strength. Beads of sweat dripped from her hair.
'Open and be grateful.' Silvius ordered.
Luna inhaled, opening her mouth, smelling the scent of blueberries. He placed the soul in her mouth. She chewed, shallowing, her eyes drooped. Her breathing evened out, her chest rising and failing, she fell asleep.

Colour returned to her pale complexion; Silvius smiled. He remained unreadable. 'My personal healer will examine her and treat her injury. I'll have a room ready for her afterwards.' He assured Racheal.

She whispers goodbye to the reaper, who she found remarkable. Luna grabbed her wrist harshly, digging her fingernails into her exposed skin. Before Racheal yanked her wrist away, she noticed a piece of paper in her hand extending it outwards to her. She took the parchment in her hands, reading.
The names of the other targets, Racheal, hunted for months laid before her. She borrowed the warlord's quill, crossing out Greyson's name. 'One down, four to go.' She thought. A nasty smirk played on her lips.

She slapped the poster on 's desk. 'I'll collect my bounty now, thanks.' He sat down, his eyes wearily glancing down at the amount. He opened his top drawer, throwing her two pouches full of irons.
'Eventually, Scarlet, blade you'll run my vaults dry, is their anything else?' He grinned. He traced her wrist with a sliver nail.
She glared, pinning his metal nail, barely missing the hidden flesh underneath. 'If I wanted anything from you other than information and my targets, I'll cut your tongue out for those remarks.' Racheal seethed.