DEATH'S HEART

Chapter 14 (Radish Fiction Version)

I always thought my existence was regarded as a joke by the deities who were beyond my realm. In that other world, there were only the Holy, the Fallen and the Blessed. The Holy were the angels bestowed with specific gifts to look after creation–the ones with wings made of light; beautiful and pure. The Fallen were the Holy who had lost grace in the quest of overthrowing their creator from the throne of power. Then there were the Blessed–humans who had ascended beyond the flaws of their humanity, or simply those who were chosen to bask in the glory of what it was to be divine. All of them were within the reach of the Creator; the one perceived by humans as God.

I did not belong to their plane. The nature of my being was a threat to them.

I first opened my eyes at the initial gasp of human life. When humans were created, they were meant to be flawed. They were not granted the beauty or flight of angels. They were not granted eternal life. They were gifted with a soul, and the power to live their lives however they chose. I was created to take those souls and deliver them to the Paths, where they would continue to make choices. My existence was simply meant to claim the souls. It was never expected that my strength extended to the Holy, the Fallen, and the Blessed. The difference between humans and the divine being when they faced death was that the human soul continued on to the next life, while the journey of the Holy, the Fallen, and the Blessed ended. It was because of this, I was forbidden to step into the Paths. They feared that if I walked into the Paths, I might find the gate that would lead me to their realm–maybe that was heaven, or probably even hell.

The Holy would come and go into my cold desert to reclaim the souls I took–these were the ones who had what people would call 'near Death'. They were the ones the Creator had chosen to use as instruments for miracles. They all came and went. No one ever stayed long, except for this angel.

"A companion?" I repeated. The words left a sour taste in my mouth as they rolled out of my lips.

"Yes," he replied softly and calmly, unaware that his presence alone offended me. "Your powers are great. As time passes, humans have become more vulnerable to your contempt. You claim these souls without regard."

I breathed heavily. "They are leading themselves to their own destruction. I have high respects for nature, I abide by its laws. I take the soul of the body that is waning." I was powerful. Thus, I was proud. But I would not kill for pleasure. I would be lying if I said that I had never thought of it. I had descended into their world for many centuries, watching how superficially they lived their lives. It would be so easy just to take them all, regardless of whether it was their time or not. It was no lie that the urge to kill the undeserving had been very strong and tempting. Without warning, I wanted to drag these worthless souls to the Paths, and hope that they would choose their next life to be a more miserable one–worse than the one I forced them to leave behind. But to submit to this strong desire to extinguish the life of the unworthy only remained as a mere fantasy. With that restraint, I demonstrated what it was to be powerful...Because, to be truly powerful, one must have control over the craving of taking unjust actions.

"Claim these souls without regard," I continued flatly, repeating the words he uttered slowly and thoughtfully. My lips lined with a smile of annoyance. "Am I supposed to"–I exhaled heavily as I was about to correct myself–"Am I expected to have an affinity with these people? What purpose will that serve me? What happens if I do gain some form of sentiment over these men and women?" I shook my head slowly. "It will not change the fact that I will still have to take their souls back to the Paths. They will still die."

His body swayed slightly towards me with his head bowed and eyes tightly shut. Realizing his disadvantage, he stopped abruptly. He wanted to face me. He wanted to look into the face of the insufferable creature that he had been sent to keep his company. "Yes. They die."