8 Chapter 7

Meredith and Nevetharine came to a halt in front of an old Oak tree. When Meredith moved out of her field of view, Nevetharine saw it...

It was a small deer, badly wounded. It must have been a hunting target for people in town and managed to limp all the way here. Several arrows pierced vital organs, all but the heart. It was suffering.

"It's dying," Nevetharine heard a tremor in her voice. She had a soft spot for animals.

"Aye. It is." Meredith kneeled down beside the animal. It squirmed, but when she laid her hand on it, it calmed down, as if it recognized her.

Nevetharine knew what that felt like. She felt the same way when Meredith took away her pain earlier. She whispered something in a foreign language to the animal, and it rubbed its head against her hand.

Meredith gently swayed her hand above the animal and with a swirl of black magical energy, pulled its soul, a bright ball of white light, out of its body. The body died instantly. She held the soul in her hands and whispered something inaudible to it. Then, she raised her hands to the sky and the soul drifted upwards until it disappeared from their view above the branches.

Nevetharine followed the movements of the soul until she could see it no more. She realised that, even though her mouth was wide open, she wasn't breathing. With one more sway of Meredith's hand, the deer's body dissolved into dust and became a part of the ground. Nevetharine inhaled sharply at the sight. The foreign voice popped an idea into her mind.

"You're not a witch… you're the angel of death." She whispered. Meredith met her gaze and smiled faintly.

"Well done! That's a bit closer to the truth." She starting walking back towards the cottage, assuming Nevetharine would follow.

And she assumed right. They walked back in silence.

Many ideas about Meredith were swirling around in Nevetharine's head. Some were pleasant and others not so much. Did she decide when and how everyone died? If so, could she not have them die in better, less cruel ways? Nevetharine worked herself up over the last thought in particular. She thought about all the horrible deaths that had occurred in Vudreigh, most recently the one she witnessed in the square.

As all these thoughts whirled about, she couldn't bring herself to now think that she and Meredith had anything in common at all. In fact, they were seemingly polar opposites. Meredith killed, and Nevetharine wanted nothing more than to treasure all that lived.

"Although, sometimes"…No, she wouldn't allow herself to finish that thought.

Finally they arrived back at the cottage and Meredith unlocked the door, stepped inside and let down her cowl. As she went in, Nevetharine was greeted with warmth from a crackling fire. She looked around the little house.

All kinds of oddities surrounded her. Dried herbs hung from the ceiling and a shelf on the wall was packed with dozens of tiny phials filled with potions of every colour. In the corner was a single bed, but it was not for Meredith. She had a room of her own that broke off from the main room, although something told Nevetharine that it was rarely used. Above the fire pit hung a large, iron cauldron. In the other corner there was an alchemy station with a thick, black book resting on the wooden table with ink and feather next to it. There was also a crystal ball on the station that was made from Ceritondunite; a clear, light blue crystal. Next to the station stood a large, heavy oak chest. Nevetharine entertained the thought that it might contain treasure…

Meredith's voice pulled her out of her daze. "You'd better sit down so I can look at your wounds. I'll get the tea started."

Nevetharine wasn't sure that she wanted anything from this woman now, but she sat down at the dining table nonetheless. It was a small, round wooden table with just two chairs next to it.

So the angel of death was going to look at her wounds - that wasn't unnerving at all.

At least that fact somewhat quelled her previous accusations of Meredith being a cruel reaper, since she would obviously not help her if she was just intent on killing people in whatever horrible way she could think of. Meredith dropped a mixture of different herbs into the iron kettle and placed it next to the fire pit.

She then walked over to the alchemy station and threw a few more things together in a pestle and mortar. Nevetharine watched as she crushed the ingredients finely. She then took a piece of linen from the chest next to the station. Finally she made her way back to the table. She rubbed the herbal paste onto Nevetharine's wounds and covered them tightly with the linen.

"Thank you." Nevetharine whispered. She didn't know why the words came out in a whisper, but whispering seemed appropriate around the grim reaper. Perhaps she didn't want to wake the dead. And while she was at it, she wondered if Meredith was actually alive or dead?

"So, did you bring me here because it's my time to die?" She asked indifferently.

Meredith looked at her as if it was outlandish to even mention such a thing: "I couldn't kill you even if I wanted to."

"What do you mean? You're the grim reaper, you can kill anyone."

Meredith placed the herbs back on the alchemy station, walked over to the fire pit, and poured the tea into cups. The cups were made of fine pottery with intricate hand painted decorations. She must have acquired them on her travels many years ago, Nevetharine thought. She had no idea where that notion came from. Such beautiful items don't exist anymore in this world. Meredith placed the cups on the table and took a seat opposite Nevetharine.

"A common misconception. Just because I take souls does not mean that I can go around killing anyone as I please. Although some people, and things, deserve it. When and who dies are not my decisions to make. I am only the one with the ability to follow those orders."

"What do you do with the souls once you've taken them?"

"I send them away to the Eternal Gardens, or to the Obsidian Realm. It depends on the soul."

"So, you decide if the soul gets to live in peace forever or in eternal damnation?"

"Exactly," Meredith smiled at her, "so you'd better behave."

Nevetharine grinned and looked down. Her anger started fading away.

"Couldn't you stop the demons? They are from the Obsidian Realm, aren't they?"

"Yes they are and no I cannot. I am merely a medium for souls to pass from one realm to the next. I have no more control than that over the realms. None of us do…"

"Us? There are others like you?"

Meredith frowned slightly and looked down at her cup of tea. Apparently she thought it odd that Nevetharine could ask such a silly question.

"Not like me. But there are others, yes. There are two more in this universe, but each of us serve a different purpose."

Nevetharine thought of an idea, but she was afraid to give voice to it. Meredith might think she's crazy, then again, she has probably seen it all anyway. "Are you… a Celestial Soul?"

The black pools that were her eyes shifted from the cup and glared at Nevetharine. The corners of Meredith's mouth lifted slightly.

Meena came to mind, as did all her 'stories', along with a bit of regret for calling her a teenager with an overactive imagination.

"What are the other two like? Where are they? Why don't they help us?"

Meredith moved her finger around the edge of the cup.

"There is only one who can help us, but before she can do that, she needs to wake up and free herself." Meredith's eyes held Nevetharine captive.

"Great Mother?" As she said the words, Nevetharine witnessed the whole sacrificial scene from earlier again in her mind.