"Death comes for us all."
-Heard by an old miner on number 621.
Grace woke up in the middle of the street. Or she thought she did. She was aware before she was conscious—her body existed, though the world around her didn't.
White. That was all she could see. Not light—light had warmth, purpose. This was emptiness, like the inside of a dying star.
She tried to move, but her muscles refused. A single twitch sent a bolt of agony racing down her spine. She gasped—or thought she did—but the sound came out as nothing more than a weak, broken squeal.
The pain rippled outward, crawling through every nerve, every inch of skin that still remembered being alive. She wanted to cry, to scream, to do something, but her body had forgotten how.
The only thing that existed beyond the white was sound. A faint, metallic rhythm—heavy boots striking pavement—drawing closer. Each step echoed through her skull, reverberating with the same unending ring that filled her ears.
"Grace!" The voice was muffled, warped by the ringing, but familiar.
She tried to answer, but her lips only trembled.
An arm wrapped around her moments later—solid, steady—but wrong. The grip was strong, but the warmth she expected wasn't there. The touch was cold, almost lifeless. For a moment, she thought she was being carried by a ghost.
Her head slumped sideways, her vision still blinded by the colorless light. Her mind tried to form a thought, but it slipped away like mist. Again and again, she tried to hold onto something—an image, a name, a sound—but they all fell apart.
Only one thought stayed. It hurts. It pulsed through her mind, steady as a heartbeat. It hurts.
Her body shivered in the arms that held her. The white began to dim, the edges of the world slowly bleeding back in—shadows first, then color. A voice whispered near her ear, soft but trembling.
Grace drifted back into darkness.
Carrie let out a trembling breath as she lowered Grace to the cracked pavement. Her hands were slick with sweat, her heartbeat a wild drum inside her ribs. Grace's skin was cold, pale—her chest barely rising.
"She's alive," Carrie whispered, though her voice sounded distant, even to herself. The words were more prayer than observation.
Beside her, the armored giant knelt, his movements slow and deliberate. He lifted Grace from the ground, now holding both her and Green.
Carrie turned, scanning the ruined street. Fire cracked, the air stung with static, and smelled of iron and ozone. Her ears still rang from the thunder, but beneath the ringing she thought she heard something—soft, uneven footsteps scraping against stone.
"Now we just need to find Mark," she said under her breath.
A voice answered her—barely more than a whisper. "No need…"
Carrie froze. The voice was ragged, almost torn apart by the wind.
She turned toward the sound. Through the haze of smoke, a figure staggered forward. For a moment, she didn't recognize him—his hair was singed, his clothes torn to ribbons. But when he lifted his head, she saw the eyes. Dim, unfocused, but still his.
"Mark!" she cried, running toward him.
He collapsed before she reached him. Carrie dropped to her knees beside him, the ground still hot beneath her palms.
"Mark, stay with me!"
He tried to speak, but his breath hitched. His skin radiated heat—unnatural, feverish. When she rolled him slightly, she saw it: a massive burn mark carved across his back, branching out like the roots of a lightning strike. It still glowed faintly beneath the skin, pulsing with every labored breath.
"I… think I made a mistake," Mark rasped, the words barely a whisper.
Carrie's throat tightened. "It's alright," she said softly. "You're alive. That's enough."
Mark tried to move, but his strength failed him. Carrie braced herself and tried to lift him, but he was far heavier than she could manage.
"I'll live," he muttered, forcing a strained chuckle. "Would've been ash if it weren't for these boots."
Carrie glanced down. The boots were blackened, but faint arcs of blue light crawled through the seams like veins of trapped lightning. Whatever had struck him, they had taken the brunt of it.
"You have Green?" Mark asked, his eyes blinking rapidly as if trying to clear fog.
"We have him," Carrie said.
Mark smiled weakly, though his lips were trembling. "Good… he'd better be alive. I have a few choice words for him."
"He is," Carrie answered quietly, "but he's bleeding badly."
Mark nodded once, then coughed—a deep, painful sound. "Then we need a hospital…"
Before she could answer, the ground trembled with a heavy step. The armored giant approached, his shadow spilling over them both. Without a word, he turned and gestured.
Carrie followed his movement, and through the fading haze she saw it—a massive automobile grinding to a stop, its wheels hissing against the wet street. A group of men in soot-streaked uniforms leapt from it, shouting orders.
"Flames!" one of them yelled. "Get them loaded—hurry! It's a miracle they're still breathing!"
The medics swarmed around them, their faces pale and strained. The giant knelt again, carefully handing Grace and Green to the men, who hesitated before daring to touch them. None spoke to him. He didn't seem to notice—or care.
Carrie watched as Mark was lifted onto a stretcher. His head lolled sideways, eyes glassy but open. For a heartbeat, he met her gaze.
As the medics carried them away, Carrie looked back to the giant. He stood motionless amid the wreckage, silent as stone. The fires reflected faintly off his armor, each flicker painting him in gold, then shadow.
Carrie glanced back at him one more time before following the others toward the waiting automobile. And for the first time since the heavens seemed to fall, she realized she was still shaking.
A half hour later, Carrie found herself in the waiting room of a hospital. The air smelled of antiseptic and blood. Mark had been placed in a simple bed, but Green and Grace were taken to the emergency wing and swallowed by a blur of swinging doors and hurried voices.
Around her sat families—pale, trembling, clutching one another. A broken radio murmured reports of thousands dead, while thousands more flooding the hospitals of nearby cities. The noise of it all pressed on Carrie until she could hardly breathe.
She was perfectly unharmed—on the outside. But walking beside that silent armored creature had left her sick to her stomach, and the weight of what had happened only made it worse. She told herself it wasn't her fault; she couldn't even imagine having such power.
What was she supposed to do now? Just sit here and wait while people she cared about fought for their lives?
She'd done that before—prayed to Chreign and waited. It had always been enough. Hadn't it? Maybe things had only worked out because Green, Mark, and Grace had been there to fight while she hid behind her faith.
Carrie looked up. Nurses rushed past with bandages, trays, and strange machinery that beeped and hissed. She pressed her palms together, then stood. She wouldn't just sit anymore. She walked up to a nurse who looked in charge.
"How can I help?" Carrie asked.
The woman blinked, opening her mouth to speak, but shutting it, then nodded quickly. "Follow those girls. Do anything they tell you."
Before Carrie could move, others stood too—a man whose wife was in surgery, a woman holding an infant. Soon half the waiting room was on its feet.
Within an hour, Carrie was drenched in sweat. The hospital had run out of beds, so the wounded were laid on benches and floors. Every time she caught her breath, more came in.
"Fourteen, we need you!" someone shouted.
Carrie hurried over, kneeling beside a woman with a deep wound along her arm. She handed over pain relief and wrapped the bandage carefully. Her fingers trembled, but she kept working.
For the first time, she wasn't praying. She was doing.
Maybe this was what faith was supposed to look like—not waiting for help, but becoming it.
"You're doing nicely," someone said.
Carrie looked up with shock. "Mark, shouldn't you be in bed?"
"Probably," he responded, "but I couldn't stand the idea of laying there comfortably while others had to have the floor."
Mark slowly sat down on the floor. He still had his boots on despite Carrie herself telling him he needed to take them off. He had told her they were saving his life, so she didn't argue further.
"Those boots are amazing," Carrie said, getting Mark's attention.
He turned back from staring down the hall. Where Grace was, and smiled.
"Yeah, they are," Mark replied, tapping the tips of his boots together.
Carrie finished tying the bandage, then turned to care for Mark's wounds. He'd already been patched up, but his burns needed constant attending.
The nurses had left him to her when they found out they knew each other. And had given her quick instruction on how to deal with his injuries.
"You said they saved your life," Carrie said, putting a wet rag on his arm. "I know metal conducts electricity. But I don't think simply wearing metal would save someone from being struck by lightning. If it did, half the people here would be fine."
"They're lined with pure niobium, it's the same metal Green's pistol is made from." Carrie tilted her head, so Mark elaborated. "Niobium is a high conductor to mana. It's also an amazing storage unit for the stuff too. Though it's more expensive than I'd like it to be. Anyways, my boots absorbed and stored most of the lighting before it went through my body."
"So you're immune to lighting?" Carrie asked.
Mark shook his head. "No, the boots just soaked up a portion of the mana, and a large portion at that. But the rest still delivered a nasty shock. It was bad enough that I'm genuinely surprised I survived."
Mark looked back up to where Grace's emergency room was. Carrie tapped him lightly on the shoulder. Mark turned back.
"She'll be all right," Carrie said.
Mark's voice shuttered slightly, and his eyes began to well up. "You sure?" He asked, blinking in a rapid succession.
Though the blindness he was experiencing was likely contributing to that.
Carrie nodded, "her aura is still present. And it's stronger than others here."
"An aura can tell you that much huh?"
"Your aura is your soul. When it gets smaller, when it glows less brightly, it's trying to leave the body. Grace's still has some strength."
Mark nodded in thanks, but still looked back. Carrie smiled. Mark's own aura was worse than Graces, but if he was strong enough to move, Grace would be fine.
Talk about auras however, got her curious about Green's. She glanced up where Green had been taken, then froze.
"Green," Carrie said, jumping to her feet and bolting for the stars, leaving behind a confused Mark.
She ran past nurses and assistants, stumbling on the first flight of stares. The hospital was huge, and had three flights before making it to the next floor. The second flight however, was packed, giving even nurses a hard time.
Carrie looked at the multitude of aura's flooding her, she rarely saw a person by their face anymore. And aura was all that one needed to see the truth. She looked back at Green's. It was getting weaker.
She tried shoving her way through, but her small frame gave her little in the way of strength. Despite that however, she was an elf. She reached for the railing, then hopped on it.
She went from one to the next above with supernatural balance. Despite her lack of grace she continued. Midway through she started welling up. A tear falling from her cheeks.
She made it to the top, and swung over. She landed and immediately continued her sprint. She made it to the right door. And swung it open. Two doctors and three nurses immediately looked up.
"Who are you?" one asked behind a mask.
"Young lady, you can't be in here," one of the nurses said.
"Flame it, she's not sterile, get her out quickly," one doctor said.
"He's dying!" Carrie shouted, tears falling down her cheeks. "Do something, he's going to die!"
One nurse tried getting her to leave the room, but Carrie resisted. She was carried out nonetheless, not strong enough to fight.
She fell to her knees when the nurse shut the door behind her. She began crying. People walked past her, sympathetic. Carrie didn't acknowledge them. She could only see Green's half naked body being operated on, and his aura diminishing at a rapid pace.
He wore something over his mouth and nose, she wasn't sure what it was but Carrie could only look through the window into the room.
She got on her knees and began praying.
"Chreign please grant me this one wish," Carrie begged, "please keep him alive."
Her Elven ears twitched when she heard a solid beep. Her head shot up, and the doctors began panicking and closing the incision they had made.
Carrie put her hands on the glass door, and peered in intensely. The doctors sealed the incision they made on his side and began working on something else. One nurse took off the mask over Green's nose and mouth and started mouth to mouth resuscitation.
Green's aura was getting weaker still. Until, the glow subsided completely. Carrie looked at a body with no aura, only ever seeing such a thing from the dead. She shook her head, she couldn't believe he was gone, she wouldn't.
Green walked down a hallway, turning from one corner to another, glancing around. Was he in a hospital? It certainly was a large one.
Green looked down. He was wearing all black. Not his regular clothes, but a different pair. He recognized them from somewhere. They were the same clothes from when he'd been under his master, they were Paipite's clothing.
He inspected them. They were the very same pair, the pair he'd thrown in the river. He knew from the tare on the side, and the stretch marks on the back of the shirt.
The cloak as well, he'd burned that after getting his current pair of clothes. Yet they were all there.
What kind of sick dream is this? Green questioned.
He paused when he realized he'd been walking down the same hall for some time. He should have reached the end of it by now. His ear twitched at the sound of a ringing.
He looked to his side, and saw… him? He opened the door, walking inside. He looked down at himself, raising an eyebrow.
"I see," Green said to himself. "So I'm finally dead huh? About flaming time."
He closed his eyes, and walked out of the room. He suspected he'd need to get out of this hospital to pass on completely.
What was strange however, was that Death was not there to greet him. He'd done so before. Perhaps he would meet him at the door.
A phantom rushed right past him. Green blinked, as he did so he noticed several transparent people around him. He kept walking, letting them walk through him. Whenever they did, the person paused for a moment, then continued walking.
Green paid them no heed. He put his hands in his pocket, and kept walking. He heard the screams soon enough. Thousands of them. Tens of thousands of them.
He knew they would come eventually, he was dead after all. This time however, he wouldn't walk away. They had been screaming long enough he figured, it was time to let them have their way.
He made it to the ground floor, and saw a pair of doors that led out. Darkness waiting behind them through the windows. So much for going into the light. But he couldn't say he expected anything else.
And as expected, Death stood on the other side. He was not a skeleton as some thought him to be. In fact, he was quite handsome, and very human. Aside from the eternity that stretched behind him, one could mistake him for any other man.
Death nodded at Green, Green nodded back. They had met several times, and people had gotten them confused on more than one occasion.
That was due to principle more than anything else, but the physical similarities were astonishing. Their frame, facial features, and even voice were unnaturally similar.
Though Green had originally thought Death simply looked like anyone who saw him. He had said otherwise, stating that he was surprised to find a doppelganger.
The key difference between them however, were their eyes. Green with one ruby, one brown. And Death, with one was as black as night and the other as bright blue as the sky. Looking now, Green could see the stares in the black, and clouds moving by.
It was said that he saw the world, and all in it. Perhaps he saw both sides of the planet, that was just speculation however.
Green reached out, feeling his life begin to slip as he grabbed the door handle. He felt a wave of acceptance, and not a little fear creep in.
"Green?" a voice said.
Green paused. What, he thought to himself, wondering why he paused. Am I hoping someone wants me to stay? He closed his eyes, he already had regrets, there was no need to acknowledge this one.
"Green, are you there?" the voice said.
Green slowly turned to find Carrie fingering something at her chest. It was a bullet he'd given her. Her figure was more visible than the others. Likely due to her Elven body.
Careless stood there, she wore a nurse's uniform. It actually looked quite stunning on her. But there was something else Careless had. An energy around her.
It was not one a child would have, quite the opposite. She looked older somehow. He couldn't distinguish it. She was still small. Barely five feet with a slime frame, and emerald green eyes that were slightly too large.
Normally she looked between eleven and fourteen. But the curious child he'd once seen now looked to him like a sorrowful woman who thought she would lose everything.
Green let go of the door handle, and turned to completely face her. He doubted she could see him, but it felt right for some reason.
"Are you going away?" Careless asked.
"Yes," Green answered, not really sure why.
Her grip tightened as though she could hear him however. "Can you stay for a little longer?" she asked.
"No," he answered.
"Why not?"
Green raised an eyebrow, could she hear him? Though mostly spiritual, he'd never seen spirits before. Was she more spiritually in depth then? Or was all this just a coincidence?
She could have known he'd died and was now speaking to nothing. That made more sense.
"Why are you not answering me?" Careless asked, a tear running down her cheek.
Green's mouth hung open slightly.
"My body died, I can't do anything about that," Green said, this time more interested in whether or not she would respond.
"You could," she said, confirming Green's suspicions.
"How so?" he asked, "re-enter my body just to be shoved out again?"
Careless's grip on the bullet tightened.
"You can use the arts," Careless responded, "you could save yourself."
Green shook his head, turning back to Death, "I'm not going to break a promise just so I can live a little longer."
"You wouldn't be, you'd be living for centuries more. Centuries of life you can explore, centuries of life you can live simply for the sake of living."
"I won't let them wait any longer, they deserve to rest."
"Let who rest? Who would be resting after you're gone? The Conexe is still chasing me, Mark and Grace would be shouldering that burden alone. That's not resting."
Green didn't respond.
"Green, please. I need you to stay a little longer. I want you to stay a little longer."
Green turned back to look at her, his eyes as dead as he was. Careless took a step forward, grabbing Green's hand at his side, while not really grabbing it.
"You're in so much pain," Careless said. "I see the way your soul cries out. From the day I met you, I saw the hole in your chest. And I've prayed everyday that it will heal. But, I just realized, that just praying is not enough. If you never act, your prayers will never be answered."
Carrie looked up at him, meeting eyes that were in a whole nother world.
"Let me be your hope this time," Carrie said, "you've been our hope long enough."
Her hand squeezed air, and she looked down.
Carrie looked down in prayer. Not only that he would come back, but in sorrow that she never stood up before. She'd let him be the shoulder that she leaned on long enough.
She is a child, yes. As an elf, she was even considered an infant. But Green was younger than her, and he had been the adult longer. She wanted to cry, she was crying, but she wanted to break down in tears. She wanted to beg Green for forgiveness.
Forgiveness for seeing the truth, but never acting on it. For letting it go on, thinking that everything would be alright eventually.
"I would be breaking a vow," Green said finally.
Carrie looked up, searching for the right words. She couldn't find them, so she spoke without thought.
"A promise is a promise," she said, "but you promised me that you would show me the cities, and take me home."
"Mark and Grace are strong enough," Green said.
"But you were the one who promised. You said you would all take me home. Not that Mark and Grace would, you said you would with them."
Carrie looked down, taking a step closer to his phantom form. "You can't have both, so now you have to pick the one you want. Not the one you think you deserve, the one you want."
"I don't want to live," Green said.
"Then do you want to die?" she asked.
Green paused, "I don't know."
"Then tell yourself, just this once. Tell yourself that you want to live. If you say the words, I'll be their foundation."
Green closed his eyes, taking in a long breath—though he probably couldn't. He shouldn't even be considering it. As it wouldn't only be a broken vow, it would be his promise to never use them for her sake again.
He swayed for a moment. Leaning on a child as a foundation was cowardly. Plus her foundation would be gone when she left.
And what if it was? He would be fulfilling his promise, he would be taking her home. That, and breaking his vow. You can't have both, Carrie's voice repeated in his mind.
No, I can't have both, Green though, but breaking one promise is better then two. He paused, dying now would mean more than a vow broken. He would be breaking his promise to Chreign. He would do more good than evil in his life.
Breaking a promise to God is worse than breaking one to man, he thought. The thought added a point, but it didn't help. It's more of an excuse. But that thought could simply be coming from his desires, rather than his duty.
The two seemed to separate, yet the line between them blurred further. He hated that feeling—the waiting, the doubt. Green lifted his head, making a decision.
He could always die along the way. He was a bounty hunter—death was inevitable.
Green turned back to the door one last time, at least for now. He saw Death staring at him, his eyes a contrast between the death of a dark midnight sky, and the life of the blue sky. He neither told him to come nor stay.
"Sorry, you'll have to wait just a little longer," he spoke to both Death, and the screams.
With that Green turned back, and walked upstairs. Both through halls and people, and stopped at his room. He looked to his side, Carrie was coming, squeezing between different phantoms.
He walked in the room, turning one more time to see Carrie walking up to the window. He looked down at his body. His lifeless body, surrounded by doctors and nurses trying to bring him back.
It was common knowledge that when an elf passes, their body goes with them. Green was reminded of why his didn't.
He looked at the body that never should have existed, the creation of a taboo. The amalgamation between two souls that disobeyed God's very laws.
Then, he let himself in, using the arts to restore blood, tissue, bones, and nerves. He couldn't heal everything, in fact, he would still be severely injured, but he could live.
He let a heartbeat slowly come back.