Huntsman

4

"But is it good or bad? What are its intentions? Does it have more control than we like to admit? Has it been pulling the strings of the kingdom, of this world, from the start? Indeed, no one knows, or the knowledge has long since died, along with the Old Kingdom."

-letter from Liv Forbrye to Tomas Rys, dated the seventh day of the month of Voyant, in the fourth year of Queen Evelyn's reign.

The room became still. Too still. Almost... I spun on my heels, face to face with-

"Death,"

He looked up. Strange, that face. So innocent. Limned with curiosity but its expression anything but. I loosed a tiny sigh of relief as I realized he was still the same. Good. My perception of him had yet to change. It was the truth, anyway.

"Yes. It is very relieving, isn't it, Evelyn? To know that I am still the same to you. Still a child, small and controllable. Something to manipulate. Is that all I am to you, even now?"

Drawing a breath, i raised my eyebrows. Subtly, almost imperceptibly. A step forward. Another.

"It seems as such,"

I smiled inwardly, at the tone that did not change. The voice that did not waver. Cold and unchanging, I supposed I mirrored Death himself. In some ways.

"Is that all I am to you, even now?"

I cursed myself as I tensed, small as it was. Always watching, always observing, even when you did not see him. He had to have noticed.

A sign of fear. That's what he saw.

I could not let it show.

"It would seem as such,"

His face tightened, ever so subtly. But his eyes..

Eyes that did not fit the child's face he wore. My eyes.

Eyes that burned and flared like a fire that refused to bank. Full of rage. As I perceived it.

Those eyes that were constant.

The body that was not.

I couldn't stop my eyes from widening, not as its frame contorted and swirled, taking on a new form, advancing slowly.

Even Death seemed surprised, slowing its advance.

But then it settled.

And any control left me. Eyes that widened fully now, a heartbeat that raced against my will. Teeth that clenched together in nervousness.

My perception had changed.

He started again, his face mocking now.

With good reason.

A tall man. Too tall, almost. With a stalking gait and deathly pale skin. As if a hint as to what was to become of me.

I pushed that thought from my mind. He wore a suit now, and an exquisite ring graced his fingers.

Directly in front of me now, he stopped. Cocked his head. Surveying my expression, his eyes- those burning eyes- trailed down my face. My body.

And lifted.

Directly at mine.

The one that was left anyway.

As if he had heard, Death smiled. Slowly. Recounting our last encounter, no doubt.

That easily, he had scared me. I admitted it. I was scared.

Terrified, as I remembered the light that gouged the eye out, leaving in its wake relentless burning pain and a permanent scar that drove Derin away. Remembered the hands that held me in place, unfeeling as I screamed and struggled.