10 Minute Tales

May 1 - Daughter of Death

Guenivere had never known her mother. Her father said that it was an unfortunate necessity for Guenivere's own survival, that the sacrifice of a mortal life was required to form a new reaper's body. She sighed, looking out over the eternal wastes that formed her home plane of existence. It was mostly black, save for the occasional teal soul that drifted hazily through what would be the air if there was any air to be had.

"... he said he'd be here by now." she huffed, turning away from the window and staring into her room. It had a couple of decorations and her wardrobe - her father called it opulent with just this. She grumbled and approached the wardrobe, opening it quickly and extracting her scythe from within. Her father's only gift to date, it was the source of her power. She twirled it around a little before putting it to her back. The magic contained within the scythe held it to her, letting her leave the room without having it clunk against the doorframe again. As she walked into the main room, another portal shimmered into existence. Through it walked the reaper, the slayer, the final horseman of the apocalypse. "Hey, Dad." she greeted casually.

"Guenivere." the reaper grumbled, his voice echoing through her soul. For most mortals, this would be a terrifying prospect, hearing this voice, but Guenivere was used to it. What she wasn't used to, however, was being called by her full name.

"Ugh, Dad, please, it's Gwen..."

"Guenivere." he repeated. His face didn't move, but Gwen knew he wasn't pleased. "I have a matter I would have you investigate."

"Me?" she asked, surprised. "I thought you didn't want to let any matter escape your grasp. Why send me?"

"You are four centuries old. It is time you understood the details of the task forced upon you."

"Alright, old timer, hit me. What's the word?"

"There is a time spirit that seeks to protect its host from my grip."

"So just kill the spirit, big deal." She got up, readying her scythe again. "I'll be back in a minute."

"It is not their time." the reaper warned. "Simply claiming them is insufficient."

"Huh? What do you mean?"

"The spirit requires the host in order to maintain its own existence. If you threaten to claim them, they will escape to another time. You can follow them, yes, but the spirit's escape will be endless."

"So what do you want me to do about it?"

"You will need to guide them. Ensure that the spirit regains its strength enough to sustain itself from the host."

"Wait, what? You have no idea how long that would take!"

"I do not. I do know, however, that it shall be attainable. All you must do is adventure with them. Ensure their survival."

"Wait, adventure? I'm going out into the physical realm?" her eyes lit up in the ethereal light of the soul-burning torches.

"I would have you do so." the reaper nodded briefly. He swung his scythe upwards, forming a new portal. "Go. Remember, though. Do not claim them." these last four words echoed with his will, strong enough to even make her shudder.

"I won't be long, Dad." she grins. "Only, what, a few decades? Not long at all."