Believe in Me

Stone Cold, Once Again

Not the best chapter on my part, but either way, thank you for reading, review if you'd like, and have a good night. I'm  going to try and update twice tonight, or even three times to make up for the lack of update these past few days, but I cant promise anything. Hopefully I can though. I cant say it enough, I'm really grateful for the good feedback and thoughts on the story, it keeps me going.

It was like the room was spinning even before his heavy eyelids rose to see it. This had happened so many times now that it was less of a surprise to wake up feeling completely drained of all energy than just a burden.. a burden he wouldn’t let stop him any further. He wouldn’t be weak anymore, the guardians had made him like that… and despite their good intentions, their “want to help him,” the reaper couldn’t be someone to give in to friendship. Everyone he would ever be close to would die eventually, Ilia was an exception, he didn’t know how but she had worked her way into his.. well, as close to a heart as he would have at the time. Now that heart was building, growing, and it made him weak, weak as hell. Despite it being just an excuse, Grey felt himself blaming everything on that trust that he was starting to gain for the spirits. He had had his ‘fun,’ his time to see what a family truly was like… now it was time to go back to being what he was. Emptiness, a spirit who’s appearance brought fear and who’s soul was pitiless. He was death, that was what he was born to be… and that was what he had to accept.

Grey Loss, the real one, not the pitiful excuse of a reaper he refused to allow himself to be any further, opened his eyes despite the weights on them trying to hold them down. It was dark, with no surprise to him, a familiar chill of metal stinging the nerves in his wrist. This time though, it was only his wrist. He was, if anything, irritated by this. Had the nightmare king grown so arrogant that he didn’t even feel them as enough of a threat to put a decent resistance up? A single chain could easily be broken, it would just take time. The reaper rose slowly to his feet, his knees beginning to tug him down once more but he yanked back. He wouldn’t fall again, wouldn’t fall to comfort. He needed to get out of there and get Ilia. Adding the five guardians and Jayna to his small list of things to care about only made the burden on him grow heavier… he couldn’t do his job if their sadness was his own, he couldn’t have distractions. That was how his life was to be, he’d be lost in his own head, doing his job despite the hate it would bring him, and eventually, once he brought the last soul up or down to the worlds it belonged to, the Man in the Moon would allow him to finally pass on, alone and unwanted, the planned killer of mankind and all life surrounding. He was born to be a monster yes, he was the real “bad guy” in the long run, but that didn’t mean that he would have to serve as Pitch’s dog and Chaos’ toy until that day came.

He finally felt his legs give in to the strong determination in his will, his heart beginning to freeze back to stone once more, a gratefulness for that left in the remains of the part of it that was still alive. His plan had been made, get Ilia, get out. The guardians could find their own way out of this.. despite the pull he felt urging him towards where his intuition figured Jack would be right now, but the world was balanced on his shoulders… The world’s wellbeing was more important than a few spirits, whether he liked it or not. Death brushed raven black bangs from his scalding eyes before the slits narrowed further. He stepped forward and tugged his arm forward… there was a noise behind him, a noise of a once clearly polished, black sand wall being shattered. He raised his hand under the red eyed visions and felt a small sense of relief as he saw that the chain’s metal was broken on the end, like it was ripped clean off. Chaos threw the monster into him so carelessly, he forgot that there were effects that might backfire. One was the strength Grey had even when the beast was dormant, strength that could easily do more than shatter something as fragile as a chain.

He strided forward, less like a run and more like a fast paced float over the floor, his steps majestic yet strong, his glance saddened but hardened into a careless, scarily blank expression as it had been before he brought himself into this mess. He had no idea where the nature spirit was, no clue on if she were hurt or not, but, despite the guilt that accompanied it, Grey hoped somewhat that she’d be unconscious when he carried them away from Pitch’s Lair. No doubt she would refuse to go without Jack or the others, no matter how injured she might be, but there was no time to chance finding them. The guardians could take care of themselves, they were given their duties by the Man in the Moon himself, they weren’t weak. He was done stepping in where he didn’t need to be, and if Ilia chose to stay… no… he couldn’t let her have that choice. Despite their determination, the guardians’ main strength was in their hearts, despite their skill for fighting when the time came, those skills were rarely tested and weren’t naturally honed like his. Though he had grown a slight fondness for Jack, a slightly less one for the others, he would rather leave and save the world from the hell it had become than risk going back and ending up just getting turned into that… thing again, doing more harm to the guardians than good. He made his way down the dark halls, figuring with little doubt that Chaos would pop in, mock him, express how horribly weak he was… he was done with that too, with being mocked. Chaos had turned evil, he had done what he needed to by sealing him away, and he would do it again whether now or later. He was the one that the guardians couldn’t take care of, the second completely immortal spirit. No matter what happened in the world, a few things wouldn’t end… Love could end, hope could end, friendship, all of that could end at some point if history took a turn in the wrong direction. But wars would never end, people would always fight, resulting in two things: Chaos and Death. They wouldn’t end until every other creature on the planet did, but Chaos could be put to sleep for a few hundreds of years. That’s what would have to be done. If the Man in the Moon chose for it then Pitch would be killed in some form of final fight, along with the wind spirit at some point if things kept going in the way they were. That was the one death from the enemy side that Grey would really feel bad for. He remembered in his point of weakness seeing those eyes, so light in blue that they were almost white, watching him so blankly that they challenged his own emotionless eyes, though the wind boy’s held something along the lines of longing, while his own held loss, loneliness, those eyes being the only things that could give off his emotions… he would get rid of that too eventually.