My Keeper

Death Himself

"Death follows us wherever we are, whether we be lost, whether we be broken or whether we fear it or not. We cannot be rid of it."

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The world was no less dooming during the day than it was at night. Bitter wind swept across the barren landscape, carrying the taste of ice and ash that clung to my lips. My dark chestnut hair was strewn across my fair skin by the winds, cold against my face. Around me stretched a carpet of amber, dwindling beneath the scattered lava rocks. It was a place the sun only brushed in whispers, its warmth always at odds with the creeping shadows.

My venture wasn’t to run away, though it might have felt that way. A strange warmth tugged at my sleeves, like something alive urging me forward. The feeling was faint, but it reminded me of the way the stone pressed against my chest—a quiet warmth that stood in defiance of the chill. Without questioning it, I decided it would be best to follow, each step leading me closer to the mountain peak looming above, dark and resolute.

Ahead, the cliff face rose sheer and smooth, its surface unnervingly flat. And beyond, a crown of pine trees spread wide, forming a barrier that beckoned and yet warned at the same time. I could smell the faint, earthy scent of evergreen needles from where I stood. Trees. Evergreens. Thriving amidst the frost. They seemed out of place, a defiant pocket of life, as though some remnant of nature had decided to endure even here. Why would a king prefer sucha land riddled amongst death over somewhere life would be? Unless he was death himself.

The question burned in my mind as I squinted and began to walk to my right, searching for a way up the slope. There had to be a path to the summit, hidden within the shadows cast by stone and pine.

And then, as if answering, I caught sight of it—a narrow, winding trail, weaving steeply through the coal-dark rock. It looked as treacherous as it did narrow, disappearing around bends that I could only guess at. But I felt no fear, only a strange hope, almost desperate, for the sunlight I imagined would be somewhere within those branches. My legs carried me up the path, step after uneven step, until I finally reached the top. I collapsed at the summit, my palms pressing into the damp cushion of moss, breathing in the scent of greenery that had been hidden from me for so long.

Only then did I realize how dry my lips were, the ache in my throat a reminder of how parched I had been. I rose to my feet slowly, desperate for a kind of warmth that wasn’t cold or too hot—a gentler warmth, as foreign in this land as the pines around me.

The ground beneath me felt oddly alive, as though it had its own heart and lungs. I took a few steps forward, noticing how the tall pines were even taller than expected, their branches reaching up as if seeking something beyond the reach of this somber mountain.

Then, a sound drifted toward me—soft, rhythmic, like the song of trickling water. It was the melody of life, a quiet symphony luring me closer through the pines. I stopped in my tracks, caught in the allure of its song, a part of me longing to rush toward it. But as I listened, another feeling crept in. I didn’t want to celebrate this alone. The water’s song felt like a promise of something pure, something whole, and yet I had no one to share it with. I am alone.

The cool blades of tall grass whispered against my fingers as I trailed my hands over them, the wind carrying a fresh breath of air that was clean and pure. I took a step back, breathing in this fleeting taste of hope, and returned to his ashen kingdom, feeling the ache of something unsaid within me. I descended the mountain, a glimmer of hope keeping me steady as the decline brought me closer to his dark domain.

As I reached the bottom, he stepped out from behind a looming boulder, his dark eyes wide with surprise, mirroring my own shock. I slid forward, almost losing my footing on the slope, but he caught me in his arms before I could fall. His grip was solid, unwavering, holding me in place as the world seemed to tilt. For a moment, I was aware only of the steady rise and fall of his breath, grounding me.