Beyond the Rabbit Hole

A New Beginning

Alyss and Morgyn, two beings of death and guidance, unfathomable to the human psyche–if there were any single thing we could point to as our beginning, it would be this day in one of the last vestiges of human life on the planet we spent our first eternity. So much has happened since then, it's hard to believe. We've met lovers and friends. We've lost some as well. We've achieved goals we never dreamed we could, and we have regrets we can never forget. We've saved many people, and we've done things. . . horrible things we can never take back. There have been moments when we wished we could end it all, but despite the hardship, despite the loss, and despite the regrets. . . We have lived a wonderful life.

This is our story. So that it may be remembered in its entirety–our heroism and our villainy–we shall be the ones to record it. For the truth is our law, and our law is the chain that binds us together. We are the first of the eight Sovereigns, and this is our beginning.

An avatar of finality. A guide to stagnant souls. Morgyn was a formless being thought of only by the humans he delivers as a Grim Reaper: a bringer of death. He had no legs to stand on, nor eyes to see, and yet he stood upon the rooftop of a decrepit skyscraper surrounded by other decrepit skyscrapers, looking down upon a weathered, old suburban-style home and the layers of rusted railways that towered in between. He descended upon the littered street, unfazed by the potholes, toppled streetlights and scrunched cars scattered about it. He passed unhindered through the overgrowth and over the threshold. He passed through the closed door of the home and headed up the stairs to the second floor. He had no ears to listen, yet he heard the wailing of a grieving family scattered throughout different rooms in the house. He had no mouth to open and no voice to speak and yet. . .

"Jonathan Tanners."

The soul of a middle-aged man in a white nightgown removed his gaze from his own lifeless body and stumbled backward at the sight of the formless being. "Wha-what are you?" His voice trembled.

Hideous. Creepy. Terrifying. I haven't a body nor a face, and yet the humans must see something. For them to look upon that which cannot be seen would likely break their fragile minds. I know this, and yet as the centuries pass by, I can't help but wonder why they must almost always see me as a monster? "I am Death. Humans sometimes refer to me as a Grim Reaper. It may be easier for you to think of me as such as well. I have come here because your soul has not passed as it's supposed to."

Jonathan's eyes widened as he shivered. He stole glances at his corpse and cried.

I haven't a voice for them to hear, and yet they understand me without fail. It must be terrifying, but I don't quite understand what that means. Morgyn moved closer to the bedside. "What is wrong?"

"I. . . died. I'm dead! So why? Why are you trying to kill me again?!" Jonathan fell backward. His legs trembled as he failed to stand back up.

"I did not come to end a life already ended. I came here to ask of you, 'What is wrong?'" Morgyn drew closer to the cowering soul.

"Then what is that thing for if not to kill me again?"

"What thing?" Morgyn asked.

"That scythe!"

Why do they think I've come to kill them? Why do they see a scythe-wielding monster when they look upon me? Do they see Alyss as one too? And if so, why is she so unbothered by it? I am only here to help. That is all I've ever done. It is all I've ever known. So, what must they hear to be convinced I am only a guide? "You needn't worry. My scythe is but a shepherd's crook. It will cause you no harm. Please tell me what troubles you so?"