Reaper's Bane

Heavy, Lies the Hearts of Dead Men

Sticking to the shadows as best I can, I maneuver through the less trafficked roads mindful of any watchful eyes. The deeper we go into the slums the darker the surrounding buildings seem to become and the further their shadowed fingers stretch. This was the area hit the hardest when the town's namesake, the Aether, was torn apart more than two millennia ago. No one is really sure how the Aether was destroyed but the consequences have been far reaching and devastating. It was once home to the magic that swirled through our world, a kind of resting place for magic to return to once it was released from the body of a Fae. Somewhere it could reset and restore before being repurposed into a new form.

For a while, decades really, everything seemed fine, the city repaired itself and people seemed to believe that the magic would adapt and find a new resting place. That didn't happen. Slowly but surely, the magic simply disappeared. When a Fae died the power that they possessed seemingly died with them. And then, Fae began being born without powers. A phenomenon that had previously only happened on rare occasions, we're talking one or two every century, was happening more often than not. And now, after almost 3000 years without the Aether, there were more Nullborns than there were "Magicals".

That's not to say magic has gone completely extinct. There are those of our kind that are near immortal who still have the magic they were born with. And, of course, the noble houses and royal line are still producing children born with magic. They like to lord it over the commoners, claiming that it's proof of the Gods clear favoritism towards them. That they're our rulers through divine command. A growl rumbles in my throat at the thought, they are no more fit to rule than a sewer rat is to cook.

They flaunt their wealth and power as they leave those they rule to die in the streets from hunger and disease. It's an all-too-common sight, to see streets lined with mourning shrouds. The white fabric, adorned with the black raven of the Morrigan, was as constant here in the slums as the disease and poverty. A disease can take out an entire neighborhood if no one intervenes and with the decline in magic there are less and less Fae who have the ability, or desire, to help the unfortunate. As terrible a situation as it is, the death toll here is going to work in my favor today. The threat of contracting a deadly disease keeps people inside so I make an effort to use the streets adorned in white.

After what feels like an eternity of lugging the rotund body through uneven streets, I decide that I've made it far enough into the dark recesses of the city to avoid him being found anytime soon. Skirting a puddle of what looks, and smells, like human waste I head into a side street near the working district. Those that make their living here are the most likely to mind their own business and, if my research about the man I've just killed told me anything, there's probably more than a few women working here who would rejoice at his death. Creeping down towards a convenient pile of discarded trash, although really everywhere in this half of the city has piles of trash, I dump the body against the ground. Methodically moving objects from the trash pile, I do my best to conceal his body while trying not to think too hard about what exactly I'm touching. The longer it takes for someone to find him, the better off his widow and I are.

I'm almost satisfied with my concealment job when a high-pitched chime fills the air. I stiffen immediately, cursing under my breath. It was too easy getting the body here, even taking the diseased streets I should have seen at least one other person. I swear I know better than to take things like that at face value, but the ease of the killing lulled me into a false sense of security. I need to get out of here as quickly as possible. I feel so stupid, I can't believe I allowed myself to forget what was happening today.

The kingdom-wide mandatory viewing of the magic transference is taking place. Which means the wardens are going to be out searching for anyone that refused the order. And if the warden's catch sight of me here they'd find me within arm's reach of a dead body. That chime was the last warning to get to the Obsidian Tower before they begin sweeping for anyone breaking the law.