She'd forgotten what it was to be alive.
The little joys of life, and their equal in sorrow, shared with her as the veil lifts for a single moment. A rush of his memories wash over her; a quick splash from the ocean of his lifetime. In the boredom of eternity, it doesn't take more than a few drops for Kahar to sink to the bottom of his soul.
She sensed the fear of crossing to the other side of the Wall for the first time.
Felt the sadness of leaving home.
The excitement of coming home to a warm bed after days of sleeping on the hard, frozen ground.
The taste of wild strawberries on the hottest of summer days.
A mother's kiss on a cut.
The shock of breaking his arm and the dull ache before storms.
The pain of losing his father.
A hot cup of spruce tea on a frigid day.
The smell of rain washing muddy snow in the Spring, feet still thawing by the fire.
She breathed it all in. When she exhaled, it was gone. It was the risk of the Hunt; to remember, even for a moment, what it is to be alive.
Kahar studied his face. She'd seen through his eyes and yet did not know their colour until now– blue. Eyes of the heaviest blue, of midday shadows and of water too deep to stand. His hair, shaved shorter than his stubble, was not the same brown on his body's head, but the crisp white of the dead. It reminded her of a late Summer dandelion, its seeds ready to be swept into the wind with a wish.
There was still so much life left in this one. She could tell by the many threads that connected him to his life. They spun out from him in every direction, a spider in the middle of its web.
He'd be worth decades and Morta would give her every last one.
"I'm dead," said the man, like he was unsure if he could stand on ice; testing the frozen water with every letter.
"Hello Dead," she said, breaking the ice with a wink, and a scythe pointed to his throat. "I am Kahar; Daughter of the Underworld, Soldier of the Unturning Fate, and Divine Messenger of Death." The words fell from her mouth with more repetition than meaning.
She could see the edge of her blade move up and down as he gulped.
"And I am here to collect your soul."
YOU ARE READING
Kismet: A Game of Fates
HorrorIf souls are worth something, then Kahar is a bounty-hunting servant of Death. The task is deadly, but simple, until she meets Danforth, a soul she can't catch. Set in what's left of Toronto when all myths and legends have come true, Kahar must choo...
