The Reaper's Trust

Weeping Willow

The dark mage wandered among the snowy, dead village until she came across a group of survivors who had not gathered at the palace with the rest. Violet narrowed her eyes at them. She lacked the power to teleport to Frostylia, but not for long.

The snow was stained red. Bodies fell, each one producing a thumping noise as they crashed into the ice. It was the only sound that challenged the silent winter.

They had been slain by their own Goddess, their life serving as fuel. They alone, unfortunately, were not enough. Violet spilled the blood necessary, even warping to Zahrenoid and murdering some of the surviving traitors. For hours she killed, going after the more valuable lives to reap the most benefits.

She thought, at last, she would be able to reach her home world. She sighed into the cold air as she stood over the remains of the day's victims. They rested on the frozen ground, never to stand upon their traitorous feet again.

A glance at the gray sky revealed the sight of towering columns composed of twisting black vines. They spread upward and beyond the clouds, surely stretching and ensnaring other worlds. The thought brought a small smirk to Violet's face, but she didn't have long to think about it. She had a Noble Mage to visit.

With a deep breath, Violet focused on her desired destination and called upon her magic. Her eyebrows furrowed as she intricately manipulated her energy, enough to warp over many, many stars.

Her lurking nervousness interfered with her focus, but she eventually succeeded. She vanished through a flurry of shadows and reappeared in a familiar, yet distant land.

It hadn't changed a bit, as if immune to time itself. The mage stood among the bright, snowy paths that weaved through the village. Snow fell gently and rested across every surface as people walked by, most of them pale and light haired to match their surroundings. Happy trills and words escaped their lips, creating a chorus of joyful sounds and carefree vibes. Frostylia remained its peaceful self over the decade.

Violet looked around with wide eyes, gazing upon her old home. The groups of pedestrians talked to each other with words and gestures alike, paying her no mind. She panted lightly, left weak from the long distance teleportation. No one seemed to notice however, so she quietly walked along the frozen cobblestone and toward her grandmother's immaculate home.

Having visited the mansion many times in her childhood, she recalled its exact location. She would've warped straight to it if not for the desire to breathe in the crisp air and feel the cool breeze. Why not smell the roses of the world she had abandoned ten years ago?

Unfortunately, the pleasant stroll was short lived. All too quickly, Violet arrived at the tall, shiny mansion at the back of the village. Its spires hadn't worn and the white-leaved trees remained, though a little smaller than she remembered.

She stepped forward and looked up at the roof. The house towered over her as did the silver-clad guards who defended it. They crossed their spears over the doors. One said, "What business have you with the Noble Mage?"

"So she's still alive?" Violet said. She glanced back and forth at the two guards, nothing visible past the tiny slit in their glistening helmets. "I'm her granddaughter. Do you remember me at all?"

The guards shook their heads. They must have been a pair different from the past. Violet sighed, "All right, well I haven't seen her in ten years, so could you please let me in?"

"You've no proof and I don't believe she's accepting visitors right now," replied one of the guards.

"Trust me, she's going to want to see me."