Page 1 of In Death’s Hands (The Threads of Fate #1)

My cloak catches on a jagged piece of metal from the car that just exploded. I take in the scene and sigh. So many human parts scattered around. It would be distasteful if I wasn’t so used to it.

Blood is everywhere, the cries and wails of injured people mixing with the sirens from the various colourful cars that rushed to the scene, only preceded by me. The noise is what always gets to me, making me long for the quiet of my solitary existence.

For a second, I wonder what caused such havoc on this seemingly normal human road. Around me I hear mentions of a leak, a truck and an explosion. I could learn more, but what’s the point?

As always, the living pay me no attention. I’m not here for them, anyway.

I sidestep one of the small fires still burning and head to where my shadows call.

They disperse quickly as I step through them to find a man staring down at his broken body.

He starts shaking when he sees me approach.

Soon, his legs don’t hold him up anymore and his knees hit the ground.

It would have hurt had he still been alive.

“Pl-please,” he begs.

I sigh.

No one sees Death and weeps from joy. I am the Reaper. The nightmare that takes them from their loved ones. I rip into their hopes and dreams and extinguish it all.

They don’t understand how lucky they are. To have a beginning and an ending. To be able to truly live, feel, love… I am but a new beginning.

Yet they all fear me. Demonise me.

About a hundred years ago or so, I took to wearing the black cape and carrying the scythe they were already picturing me with. If they want to fear me, then let me be the most fearsome thief in the night. Stealing away babies and puppies alike.

It doesn’t matter to any of them that I’m the one at their mercy. I exist to serve them . Ungrateful creatures.

“I have a family!”

Lucky bastard.

Sometimes, there are choices to be made. But not for this man. I don’t even have to peek at his essence to know that all in all, he led a good life. He was by no means pure—who is?—but he was a good man.

A portal opens next to him without my intervention.

I long ago fixed this design flaw that had me intervene for each and every death.

There are too many humans for me to judge every single one of them.

Nowadays, I only show up when a soul is too grey for my system to figure out its destination on its own, or when a great number of people pass at the same time.

The shift it creates is always a pull too strong for me to resist.

It’s not so bad anymore. Really. I got used to the fear, the threats and the dying hopes of mortals.

The light next to the man is white. Another sign that I was right about him.

Not that I’m ever wrong. The man’s immediate family is alive, so it’s his grandfather that welcomes him into this new beginning.

The old man appears bathed in light, wearing a wrinkled brown suit that matches his skin.

I stare a little too long at the laugh lines surrounding his kind eyes and I wonder for a moment what it’s like, to have laughed so hard in your life that you are permanently marked by the joy.

When the soul still begging to escape a fate I have half a mind to beg for sees who’s waiting for him, holding out a hand with a warm smile, awe changes his features.

I could watch the reunion, but I’ve seen thousands of variations of it, so I turn away before the familiar tightness takes hold of my chest.

The same scene repeats itself over and over again. The one departure I observe is that of a family. I see two women holding the hands of a child, their faces hopeful as they all step through. How I envy them.

This is too rare an occasion to miss. I’m so used to people begging me, hating me. As if I’m the one who decided to end them.

Most shy away from my embrace, some even commit atrocities to avoid me. Yet when I come for them—because I always do—they get to be welcomed in the After by loved ones.

I walk this Earth alone. There is no end to my task. No bright light, no reunion with old friends. I exist to serve humans who despise me.

I laugh darkly as I look at the man in front of me now. He should fear me. Because he won’t be welcomed by his loving mother.

Still, I serve him. Bitterness blooms at the thought.

The light that shines next to him is murky red. There is no one there to embrace him, reassure him. I don’t know what he did in his life to deserve such an end. I trust my system enough that I don’t force myself to look.

I’m moving to him, feeling the need to release the tension locking my body up, when I hear a cry. The man is both threatening and begging me, but the urge to laugh at his ridiculous attempts doesn’t come.

Instead, my whole body focuses on the quiet whimpers that I hear from the side of the road.

I walk as if in a dream. It’s no wonder, truly, that in an existence full of pain and hate, I’m drawn in by the soft girl sitting down next to her body, hugging her own knees.

Her eyes are wide and focused entirely on the piece of glass sticking out of her chest. So focused that she doesn’t see the bright light at her back.

Something isn’t sitting well with me. If she doesn’t enter soon, the portal will close, and she will be stuck here. No one deserves my fate, least of all a little girl who didn’t have time to live.

Wary of my damn cloak and scythe, I approach the tiny human slowly.

She lifts her big brown eyes and I hold my breath, waiting for her to start shouting in fear. To my eternal shock, she smiles at me. It’s a weak little thing, but it’s there.

“Hello,” she says, her voice wavering a little, but still the purest sound I’ve ever heard.

I open my mouth, but nothing comes out. Damn it. The one time I don’t want to scare a human, I act like a complete fool.

“I’m dead, aren’t I?”

The acceptance in her voice knocks the breath out of me. I lower to my knees, trying to appear less frightening, even though she doesn’t seem scared.

She must see the answer in my eyes, or maybe I take too long to speak, because she asks another question. “Have you seen my new parents? I can’t find them.”

They must have been in the car with her. Either they are still alive or they are crossing their own portals wherever they landed.

I peek into hers and see no one waiting for her. I frown. There is no one to welcome this girl into her next life. How is that possible? She must have family or loved ones that have already passed on. If her parents are crossing, it may take some time for them to come for her.

“I haven’t,” I finally answer, my voice rough. It’s been so long since I used my vocal cords, it’s a strange feeling to have them vibrating again in my throat.

She nods to herself, still not looking at the light.

Something is wrong. She should feel the pull of it. Even without anyone there to draw her in, the new life awaiting her should be a beacon to her soul.

She looks at me, eyes stopping on the wicked blade at my feet, on my cloak, and settling on my own eyes.

She takes a breath and seems to reach a decision.

I see her moving and feel relief that she’s decided to cross.

I don’t have time to understand what is going on before the girl is wrapping her arms around my neck.

My first instinct is to parry the attack. It’s only when she speaks softly in my ear that I understand that she’s hugging me.

What on earth?

Her words are slow to register, but when they do, they make my whole world shift.

“Don’t be sad, I’ll be okay. I promise,” she fiercely swears.

My emotions are a whirlwind within me. Like a tornado sweeping me up and tearing me apart piece by piece. The resigned look on her face. The lack of loved ones waiting for her. Her tiny, tiny hands clasping each other behind my neck. Her hug .

I take a breath and the storm settles.

“Yes, you will be,” I vow.