The young woman who stepped off the boat on the docks of Black Rock already looked deader than the ghosts who were walking its streets, but she had a purpose in her step. Her striking blue eyes were empty, and she did not smile. To those who asked, she was running from something, but she would not tell them what. She had already accepted her death; there was no escaping it. The running was just to buy her time. She knew she would die but wanted to prepare for her end and whatever would come after.
Patiently, she prepared herself for what she knew would come. Every day, she waited for death and honed skills she knew would serve her well in the time before and after death. Spiritism struck her fancy, and she learned the rudimentary foundations of it quickly as if she knew that those who would be interacting with her soon would require the magical discipline to do so.
Dira took an interest in the young woman as rumors spread of the living dead girl. While she hardly stopped for anyone, when she saw the Goddess of Death, the young woman gave Dira her complete attention and all the time the goddess wanted. The woman answered every question Dira had.
Her name was Autumn Rose as she had been born in the heart of autumn when the leaves were changing. She was named for the changing beauty of the time, her auburn hair tinged with red highlights reminiscent of the dying leaves.
As far as her death went, she knew it would come to her. Dira pressed, curious about and admiring of the young woman’s acceptance of the cycle, so Autumn gave in and told the Goddess everything. She was running from her fiancé. Once she had loved the man, strong and handsome and sweet as he was, but then she had heard the stories of his previous wives. All of them had been young and beautiful like herself, and all of them had died sometime after they had married him. Died was putting it lightly. They had been horrifically murdered: raped, throats slashed, disemboweled, and generally carved up until they were nearly unrecognizable. Though she could not prove it, Autumn was certain her husband to be was the culprit, and she knew, now that she had gained his attentions, that those attentions would eventually turn to murderous obsession. She ran, hoping to find a way to prove his guilt when her own life was taken so no other women would fall prey to his sickened fantasies. It would require her life. This much she knew, and this much was an acceptable price to pay to bring him to justice and avenge the women he had taken before her.
When Dira tried to give Autumn Her mark, the young woman refused, as politely as one could refuse a goddess, telling Her to save the gift for someone who could truly use it. Though Dira did not need to save the mark, She respected Autumn’s decision and continued to monitor her progress.
As her next birthday approached, Autumn had begun to grasp some of the more basic concepts of spiritism and had taken the counsel of many ghosts on how ghostly apparition worked. She meant to stay as a ghost and, in a materialization, name her ex-fiancé as her killer. Her birthday came, and as with every day since she had arrived on the Isle of Death, she did not smile. That day, the day that served as a reminder of life, her doom seemed all the more imminent, and the feeling of dread was proved right that night. He showed up, the man she had feared and run from. The same happened to her that had befallen all his preceding wives.
No one saw who had done this to her, and no one saw him leave. Autumn tried to materialize for weeks on end, desperate to save anyone and everyone from the man. When she could not become an apparition, Dira found her and helped her to materialize. Autumn was about to name her killer when Dira hushed her by placing a finger over her lips. The Goddess held Her hand out and in it was a silver necklace. Dangling from the chain in a thin-lined frame of silver was a single, black Ashl. Autumn understood in that moment that she had no need to name her killer. The Goddess of Death had already seen to it that he would never harm another woman again.
For the first time since she had come to Black Rock, Autumn smiled and accepted her gift gratefully.
She was the Goddess of Death. It was a wonderful thing to be, to be a part of the cycle of life, its limitless end. Dira lounged lazily in her Spire, waiting for Death to lay its claim on another life. There was no hurry; Death would come to whomever it wished whenever it wished. As its reigning goddess, She merely observed and made sure that the cycle continued, that no one escaped the inevitable end.
Two jackals lied equally lazy at Her feet, one black as night and the other white as the new fallen snow. Before and After, Her two constant companions.
Before and After what? There was a myriad of meanings to their names. Before and After life. Before and After the existence of the world. Before and After time itself. Her favorite meaning though was Before and After Death.
If they are Before and After Death, what lies between? The answer was simple. Death. Herself. Perhaps She shouldn’t view it as being so simple. Then again, maybe the simplicity of it was also its gravity. Death was the simplest truth. It came to everyone; no one could escape it. This was the truth. Death was truth.
Before and After both looked up at Her as these thoughts slowly trickled through Her mind and seemed to understand. Each blinked once and then lay back down, their large ears angled away from Her as if listening for Death. After was the first to sense it. The white jackal sat up suddenly and cast its gaze due west.
Dira was about to question After when She too felt it: a multitude of lives all crowded together ending swiftly and in rapid succession. Death before its time. A useless slaughter. There were few things that enraged Her more.
Standing, She began to make Her way to the tower’s entrance and called the jackals. “Come.”
It was a pointless command as the jackals were already trotting ahead of Her. As soon as She was out the door, She had one person in mind to find: Meryk, an old man who had lost much of what mattered to him very early in life and had devoted the rest of his life to worshipping the Goddess of Death. Singular and consuming, the desire to sacrifice himself for Her drove his existence. A fanatical follower. There was nothing more frightening. Or useful. When Dira had not yet deemed it his time, Meryk accepted Her judgment with happy patience. He had been a long time dying, and now, it was time for him to end any suffering. His family would be waiting for him in the afterlife. Before seemed to sense Dira’s want to find this man and tracked him through the city.
Meryk’s face brightened when he saw the visage of Death. “My lady. I’m honored You would grace me with Your presence.”
Lines of weariness were evident on his face. Perhaps She had waited too long to grant him his freedom from life. But any earlier and his death would have had no meaning. “Meryk, your patience has withstood so many tests. You will be rewarded. Do you still wish to serve me?”
Some of the lines left his face, and he looked so joyful he was about to cry. “Is it time?”
Dira nodded. “It is.”
He almost hugged Her but remembered who She was and bowed instead.
Dira took his hands. “Would you like to take your own life or would you prefer that I did?”
“You would honor me if You did it. Goodbye, my queen.”
“It’s not goodbye, Meryk. It is welcome.”
She gave him the embrace he had been searching for earlier. Before he could even return the hug, he was dead. This was how Death was meant to be. A warm embrace. It was not cold. Only idiots thought that. His body went limp, making him difficult to hold up. That was fine though. She didn’t need to hold him up for what She intended to use him for.
An Omen waited, silent behind its jackal mask, its shepherd’s crook held loosely in patient hands. Dira addressed him. “Be sure he receives a proper burial.”
There was no obvious response, but the Goddess knew Her Omen understood. With Meryk’s corpse lying on its back, She placed Her hands on his hands and lowered herself until Her face was inches from his. Like the moment before submerging one’s self in water, She held Her breath and dropped into his body. It offered no resistance, and She felt as if She were plunging into an ocean. In this ocean though, there were thousands of currents trying to guide Her in thousands of directions to thousands of different corpses, and to the inexperienced, it would be an easy place to get lost. But Dira had invented this method of travel and knew exactly where She needed to go. At Her wish, every current She didn’t want swept around Her and left Her progress unimpeded. A moment later, She found herself lying in another corpse.
She opened Her eyes, a task made difficult by the fact that the eyes She was opening were not only Her own but also the corpse’s, but even the most stubborn and dead of lifeless bodies obeyed Her. The sky above Her was blocked out by heavy foliage and a thickly interlaced canopy of trees. She was in the main land of Falyndar, somewhere in the jungle. As Dira sat up, the flesh of the corpse seemed to stick to Her own, trying to suck Her back into the body. The sensation was both exhilarating and maddening but also a comfort as the bodies had willingly ferried Her over the distance.
Standing, She gazed about the scene of carnage, patiently awaiting the arrival of Before and After. There were dozens of bodies, eviscerated and bloodied, covered with long slashes and deep bite marks. Whatever had done this was large. There were several dozen bodies, most of them human. Spread throughout these were several animal corpses: five horses, a mule, two dogs, a bear, and a fox. Her guess was that the last two were Kelvics. All but one were dead; the last one was just barely clinging to life.
The two jackals finally emerged from the corpse. Before came after; and After, before. Before let out a soft growl and trotted slowly over to the fox. Nuzzling the red-furred creature, Before flipped its body over and picked up something in its mouth. The black jackal walked back over and placed something at Dira’s feet.
Bending at the waist, She inspected the creature She knew to be the single survivor of the attack. At first glance, it was indiscernible what it actually was, but as Her hands glided over its fur, She could see he was a jackal pup and, due to his proximity to the fox, a Kelvic. The Goddess of Death parted his blood-matted fur and saw several raking gashes across his side. They started over his shoulders, ran over his ribs, and ended over his thigh. Through one of the gashes, She could see his intestines.
Her normal calm acceptance of the cycle of life was nonexistent. This was not part of the cycle. This had not been a predator hunting for a meal. It was a monster slaughtering for the sake of destruction.
Rage. That was the appropriate response, and it was all the Goddess felt. This child’s life should not have been ended so soon. The pup sat up, pressed closer to Dira’s touch, and whimpered. A second emotion surfaced in Dira’s heart, compassion for the boy. Whatever She could do to make his passing easier on him She would do.
Lying down on Her stomach, She propped herself up on Her elbows and took one of the pup’s paws in Her hands. Her touch seemed to comfort him, and his whimpering stopped. The jungle seemed to quiet around them as She raised his paws to Her lips. The hush spread, and Before and After and all the corpses held their breath when She kissed the quivering paw. She inspected the scythe mark on his paw pad, knowing that, as an Eiyon, his passing would be easier for him. For those blessed with Her mark, Death was a peaceful comfort and warmly accepted in its appropriate time. She waited a few more moments before She stood and left him, Before walking ahead and After tailing behind Her. There was no need to hurry. She
would find the monster, and it
would die.
However, She only made it a few strides before an almost inaudible yap from behind Her caused Her to stop. The pup was on its feet, struggling after the trio. Dira watched as the pup took a few steps, collapsed on to its face, pulled itself back up slowly, and started forward again. Before looked up at Her with an unblinking stare. Aware of Her jackal’s watchful gaze, Dira continued to observe the pup. Even as an Eiyon, he was not accepting his death. Perhaps that was because this was not his time. Perhaps one life was meant to survive this slaughter. She knew the monster would not. Looking back to Before, She met his unrelenting eyes.
“Before.” Her eyes flicked toward the pup.
Before broke his stare and walked back to the child, picking him up by the scruff. When Before returned, After took the lead, and Dira began the hunt. She wasn’t walking long before After suddenly crouched low, his hackles rising and his lips drawing back into a snarl. Her jackals knew She didn’t need defending but made a show of it anyhow.
After was focused on the trees to their right. The creature that emerged from the jungle truly was monstrous. Standing as high at the shoulders while crouched as Dira was tall, the tiger was a terrifying sight to behold, but the Goddess of Death had no fear. The beast began to circle Her. Dira waited patiently as the tiger’s circle closed in around Her. Smiling as it stumbled behind Her, She knew it had strayed too close. While its teeth and claws were built to kill, Dira could kill by proximity, if She wanted to, and right now, She did.
In some slight mockery of its earlier performance, She began to circle Her quarry. As She drew closer and closer to it, the tiger’s strength faded, and when She was standing next to it, the beast was all but dead. Dira reached down and laid Her hand on the creature’s massive head. As soon as Her fingers touched its fur, it died. She ran her hand over its head for quite some time, petting it soothingly.
Something reminded Her of the pup, and She turned back to Before. The black jackal had set the pup on the ground and was licking his head softly. He was quickly weakening; he had lost too much blood and was only continuing to lose more. Dira kneeled next to the pair and reached out Her hand to caress the child’s face. At her touch, Death was shoved back.
She felt the force that it had taken to push Her ward back and knew that Death wanted the child badly. Taking a deep breath, Dira readied herself for a long battle.
Shoving Death back again, She addressed him. “He is not yours. Today is not his day.”
But Death kept coming back, striving for the child. Time and time again, the Goddess pushed him back, but She knew She could do no more than delay the seemingly inevitable. The pup had to be healed before he was truly safe from Death.
Briefly, She searched the realm and farthest reaches of Death’s power and found someone else trying to hold Death back. There was only one who could do that so well. Rak’keli. If Rak’keli failed, Dira would be able to use the corpse of the other goddess’ failure to transport the pup to Goddess of Healing, but until then, She would have to prevent the very thing She brought to the world, delay the cycle She strived to protect. Three days passed before Rak’keli’s powers were no match for Death. Dira was a goddess, but even so, She felt exhaustion. As soon as She sensed the death in Mura, She grabbed the pup by his scruff and dove into the tiger’s corpse.
This journey was more chaotic than most. The goddess had not prepared herself, and the currents batted Her around like a cat toying with its prey. Still, She was who She was, and this world respected that. Her mind focused on Her intended destination, and though the ride was still not smooth, She was tumbled to Her journey’s end without any further delays.
When Dira emerged from the freshly dead Konti woman, those grieving her passing shrieked or gasped momentarily in terror. The blondes all shrank back, excepting only the eldest and the single, dark-haired individual. Dira stepped out of the corpse and set the jackal pup on the ground, facing Rak’keli. Two winged snakes coiled themselves around her arms, glaring at Dira with their reptilian eyes. Before and After emerged, gave the snakes on the dark-haired woman’s arms a single blink, and looked away. After stood between Dira and Rak’keli while Before returned to tending to the child.
Something just short of hate filled Rak’keli’s voice. “Dira.”
Dira kneeled and checked the pup. “Rak’keli, I need your help.”
“My help? The work that you constantly upend, foil, and drag through the mud. You want that help?”
Dira nodded. The passion in Rak’keli’s voice was inching moment by moment closer to hate. The Goddess of Death and the Goddess of Healing stared at each other over the silence. Several of the Konti gathered behind Rak’keli, ready to back her should Dira try anything. Rak’keli was passionate, but Dira was patient. The Goddess of Death showed little emotion ever. Now was no different.
Dira shoved Death back again with a gentle caress of the pup’s ears. “I have done everything I can to stave off Death. I can do no more. His life is beyond my help now.”
Rak’keli glared, and the dam holding back her hate finally broke. “Do you really think you have the right to request something like this of me? You spit on my work and desecrated the body of one of mine.”
“I meant no disrespect. Her body carried me willingly.”
“Her body had no choice.”
“Rak’keli, this is not about her right now. This was her time. But this child is dying, and it is not his time yet. You can set things right.”
“Her time?”
“She lived a full life, but he is only a child.”
“Children die every day. I’ve never seen you object before.”
“This time it was not meant to be.” Dira tried to calmly reason with the vehement Rak’keli.
Rak’keli wouldn’t hear it. “You’re the one who decides that, and you pay no heed to others’ opinions on the matter. You don’t care if there are those who haven’t finished what it was that they were born to do. You decide.”
Dira responded gently to the accusation. “I don’t. It is a cycle as natural as the seasons. Death is its own creature. I merely ensure that that cycle continues.”
Rak’keli turned away. “You and your cycle be damned.”
“You fight tooth and nail to stop Death and drive it back, but now that it’s a favor to me, you would deny someone life?”
Rak’keli hardened at the accusation. Before left the pup’s side, and After took over looking after the young jackal.
Dira saw this, and Her patience failed her. The time to act was now and would soon be gone. Worry and sorrow tinged with anger filled Her voice. “Don’t make me beg you. It is not yet his time.”
Maybe it was the normally stoic goddess’ show of emotion. Maybe it was the pup’s sudden whimper. Regardless, the result was what She had been searching for. Rak’keli turned back, stepped forward, and picked up the pup in her arms. The goddess inspected him all over, ensuring she found every wound. When she lifted up his feet to check his pads, she stopped when she saw Dira’s mark.
Rak’keli looked Dira in the eyes. “He is marked as one of your Eiyons.”
Dira nodded. “I told you I’ve done everything I can to stave off Death.”
Rak’keli looked at Dira a moment more, as if searching for some hidden purpose in the other goddess’ actions, but quickly went back to tending the child. She held her hand over the long gashes on his side, and the wounds began to seal themselves shut. As the wounds sealed from back to front, the muscles and organs beneath them knitted back together. When that was finished, Rak’keli swept her hands over the small, furry body, and the bruises disappeared as the color returned to him.
Rak’keli stood, holding the pup in her arms. “He is healed now, but he must rest. Rest assured that we will watch over him,” she said, dismissing the other goddess.
Dira lifted the pup out of Rak’keli’s arms, either not understanding or not caring about the other goddess’ request for Her to leave. “I will stay with him.”
It wasn’t a request. It was a demand to stay with the pup until he was fully recovered. After all, She was a goddess. Rak’keli and her sister Avalis and the Konti and Mura became the unwilling hosts of the Goddess of Death and the three jackals. Dira enjoyed the brief stay in Mura.
While She waited for the pup to regain his strength, She lounged on the grassy hills overlooking the sea. Before and After sat either side of her, enjoying the peace that was Mura. A calm sea breeze pulsated off the shore like the ever constant waves, but even it seemed to deaden when it struck their fur.
Dira held the pup’s face in Her hands. “What shall we call you?”
Nothing came to mind. No name She could think of fit him.
“Before, After, what do you think?”
The jackals looked at her, blinked once, and looked away. They didn’t care. They wouldn’t be using it to address him.
Dira watched her two jackals either side of her.
Before and After but what lies between?She did. And he did, too. The pup. She set her hand on his head. “What Lies Between.”
Before and After looked back to Her. She smiled. “Before, After, and What Lies Between.”
Both blinked their approval and went back to lounging in the soft sun. Dira didn’t blame them. It was easy to see how someone could fall in love with the ocean. She didn’t much want to leave it herself when the time came.
Rather than using a corpse from among the Konti people, Dira left by boat and traveled on foot for some distance until She encountered a decaying body in the wilds of Sylira. This She used to transport herself back to Falyndar where She completed the rest of her journey on foot and finally by boat. Once She arrived in the City of the Dead, She handed over care of the jackal to the ghost named Autumn Rose. What Lies Between would not remember the goddess’ saving grace and their journey north to Mura, and Dira commanded those who knew to never speak of it. The ghost renamed him Maro, and he grew up with no knowledge of how he had come to Black Rock.
When Dira brought What Lies Between back to Black Rock, She placed him under the care of Autumn Rose. Autumn was thrilled to be the one to care for the child. Her first act as his caretaker was to give him a new name as Dira did not want him to know about his history with Her. His new name was Maro, as he enjoyed cracking open bones in his Kelvic form and eating the marrow inside.
As he was no more than a toddler when he first arrived, her first role to him was that of a mother. She raised him, making sure he had proper nutrition as he grew and the love and support any child needed. It was a particularly joyous time of life for both of them, but it was short-lived. As a Kelvic child, he grew quickly, and his early childhood was soon over.
As Maro became a young child and grew old enough to learn languages, Autumn immersed him in as much as she could. Every day, she took him to the market and had him listen to the traders. There he learned the Common language as well as Fratava and Myrian though to a lesser degree as fewer of the merchants and shoppers used those. After their time at the market, they would go to the Little Dead Schoolhouse for several hours where, eager to please Autumn, Maro absorbed everything taught to him while he was there. Finally, at the end of the day Autumn would read him a story from a book.
As much fun as it was, Autumn made sure it was a learning experience. Rather than read to Maro while he was lying in bed with his eyes closed, she had him guide her where to read. Wherever he pointed, she would read. Besides, she needed him to turn the pages as this was a difficult task to achieve as a ghost. He had some issues with the guiding, but Autumn figured out ways to correct them all. At first, Maro followed the lines from right to left. Then, he would skip lines. His final difficulty was that he would get so excited by the stories he would move his finger too fast for Autumn to follow. Whenever he did this, Autumn would simply stop and make him backtrack to where she had stopped. This was how Autumn taught her little Maro how to read and gave him a lesson in patience along the way.
Maro continued to grow as all young boys do and soon became a young man. The precious time of childhood was over, but Autumn and Maro stayed true to their nightly traditions of reading. Together, the two reminisced of how this had begun, as a teacher and a pupil, and enjoyed the changes that came with Maro’s changing age. His skills in reading grew, and there were times when he would read in the light of the fire and Autumn would listen from the bed as a shimmering apparition with her eyes closed. She loved the sound of his voice. Although there was nothing particularly smooth or musical about it, it was his, and that was what she loved most about it.
He learned new things, things that would help him provide for himself and for Autumn, what little she needed. In his jackal form at first, he followed local fisherman and watched how they worked. His curiosity was one of his better traits; it helped him learn new things and learn them quickly. Soon, he built up the courage to ask the old pros how to fish and how to do it as well as they did. As with any age-old skill, he received a dozen different answers from a dozen different people. Some taught him actual fishing skills. Some taught him theories about fishing, where to look for holes where the biggest fish swam. One old man, Maro’s favorite, simply told him to relax, to enjoy the scenery and nature, the birdsong and the insects, and the cold of water on one’s feet. Fishing, the old man explained, was not actually about catching anything.
It was this one piece of wisdom that Maro held as his greatest bit of learning. Nothing was what it seemed to be. Life was not about living. Death was not about dying. In every action and state of existence, there was something more.
Autumn, of course, continued to teach him all the things she remembered from life. Throughout her life, she had focused herself on keeping a pure mind unhindered by the weight of the world and its worries. To this end, she had become a formidable practitioner of yoga and meditation and taught Maro as much as she could. She hoped he would not have to face any of the great trials she had but was adamant that he would be mentally prepared if he did.
Maro happily learned everything Autumn taught him, and the two continued to enjoy their respective life and death together.