Page 13 of Reaper’s Ruin (Reaper’s Ruin Trilogy #1)

Soraya stepped closer to me, close enough that I could see the flecks of darker blue in her irises, the faint tremble in her lower lip.

“Would you do it?” she asked softly. “Would you help me?” She hesitated, vulnerability written across her face. “I don’t know anyone else here and I... I trust you.”

Those last words struck me like a warhammer. She trusted me. Death itself. The very Reaper sent to extinguish her soul. The absurdity of it should have made me laugh, but instead, something long buried stirred within me—a sense of purpose I’d thought lost centuries ago.

For eight hundred years, I had reaped fae souls with cold satisfaction, finding in it justice for what they had done to my people. In my mortal life, I had failed in protecting humanity and then spent centuries taking my revenge in the only way left to me.

But here was one human soul—one chance to do something different.

I thought of what the Veil Lords would do when they discovered my betrayal.

Not only had I chosen not to reap my assigned soul, but now I was actively helping her, and if I did as Soraya asked, soon I would be walking among the living in complete defiance of my station.

The punishment would be swift and absolute.

Obliteration would be the only outcome once they discovered what I’d done.

And yet, as I looked at Soraya—this fragile, brave human with her tear-stained cheeks and hopeful eyes—I found myself unable to turn away.

There was something about her that called to the man I had once been, something that made me want to be worthy of the trust she had so inexplicably placed in me.

Perhaps this was my chance to atone, in some small way, for the kingdom I had failed to save. Perhaps in helping this one human soul, I could find a measure of the peace that had eluded me for centuries.

And perhaps, when the Veil Lords finally erased me, I could face that end knowing I had done one thing right. Saved even just one human soul. And it would be worth it when I finally reached the end of all existence.

She would be worth it.

“I’ll do it,” I said, the words feeling strange on my tongue. Not a promise of death, but of salvation.

The smile that broke across her face was like sunrise after endless night—bright enough to blind, to burn, to remind me of everything I had lost and somehow, impossibly, make me want to find it again.

“Thank you,” she whispered, and I had to look away, unable to bear the gratitude in her eyes.

“Don’t thank me yet,” I warned. “This journey will not be easy, and I cannot promise success.”

“I know,” she said. “But at least now, with your help, I have hope.”

Hope.

After eight hundred years of dealing in death, in endings, in oblivion—there was something terrifying and exhilarating about that simple word I had almost come to forget before she’d crashed into my life.

“Well then,” Selyse said, a small smile playing at the corners of her mouth. “Let’s begin. ”

Selyse set to work gathering materials from around the cottage—herbs, vials of liquid, small crystals, and little trinkets.

She worked methodically, grinding, mixing, arranging items in patterns I couldn’t decipher.

When everything was prepared, she instructed us to stand before the massive tree behind her cottage.

“This is one of the ancient trees,” she explained, her hand running along the bark. “The veil is thinner here. With my magic, it will allow you to pass between.”

“What makes this tree special?” Soraya asked, studying the enormous tree with curious eyes.

“It’s a Gateway Tree,” Selyse said, a note of reverence in her voice. “There are perhaps a hundred scattered throughout Faelora—ancient trees that serve as natural portals between places, and sometimes between realms.”

“Portals?” Soraya echoed.

Selyse nodded. “With the right knowledge, these trees can be used to travel great distances instantly. Each is connected to specific others, forming a network across Faelora.” She traced a finger along one of the trunk’s deep furrows.

“My ancestors have been guardians of this particular tree for generations. It’s one of the reasons our cottage stands here. ”

“So, you can create portals with these trees?” I asked.

“Yes, though my abilities are limited compared to my mother’s. I can open pathways to certain locations—places I’ve studied and prepared for. And in this instance, I will make a portal between your world and mine.”

She pressed her palm flat against the trunk, murmuring words in a language I didn’t recognize. Symbols appeared on the bark, glowing faintly gold, then fading away.

“The spell is in two parts,” she said. “First, I’ll open a pathway through the veil. Then I’ll bind you to physical forms.” She looked at us both seriously. “Are you ready? Once begun, I can’t stop until it’s done.”

Soraya nodded eagerly. I gave a single, short nod.

Selyse began to chant, her voice rising and falling in that strange language. The air around the tree shimmered, like heat rising from sun-baked stone. The symbols etched into the bark glowed brighter, pulsing in rhythm with her words.

“Now,” she said, “reach out and touch the tree.”

Soraya looked at me uncertainly. I nodded, though I had my own doubts. Together, we reached out toward the trunk.

My fingers met solid bark.

For the first time in eight hundred years, I touched something in the living realm.

Shock rippled through me, followed by a surge of something I couldn’t name. Not quite pleasure, not quite pain—a rush of sensation so intense it bordered on overwhelming.

“Hold on,” Selyse instructed, still working her strange magic. “Don’t let go.”

I gripped the bark, feeling its rough texture beneath my fingertips. Beside me, Soraya made a small sound of wonder, her own hand pressed against the tree.

The golden light spread from the symbols to encompass the tree, then flowed down to envelop our hands, our arms, our bodies. It felt warm and cool at once, like sunlight and shadow mingled together.

“Step forward,” Selyse commanded. “Through the tree, into my realm.”

“Through it?” Soraya asked doubtfully.

“Trust me,” the sorceress replied.

I took a deep breath—a habit from life that had never quite left me—and stepped forward, pulling Soraya with me .

For a moment, there was resistance, as if we moved through honey rather than air. Then we were through, standing on the other side—in the living realm.

Colors exploded around me. The muted grays and silvers of the Shadowveil vanished, replaced by a world so vibrant it was almost painful to behold.

The forest blazed with a thousand shades of green—emerald leaves, jade moss, sage undergrowth.

The sky above, visible in patches through the canopy, was the deepest blue I’d ever seen.

Wildflowers dotted the clearing in splashes of purple, yellow, and white so bright they seemed to pulse with inner light.

And the sounds—gods, the sounds. Birds calling, leaves rustling, insects humming, water bubbling somewhere nearby. A symphony of life that had been muted for centuries behind the veil.

Scents flooded my newly awakened senses—rich earth, sweet flowers, the sharp tang of pine, the smoke from Selyse’s hearth. I could taste the air on my tongue, clean and crisp and alive.

But despite the wonder of the world around me, still, I felt nothing. I was a spirit, still separated from this vibrant world by the thinnest of veils—close enough to see it in its full glory, but unable to truly touch it.

“The second part,” Selyse said, her voice clearer now that we were in the same realm. “The binding.”

She withdrew a small knife from her belt, pricking her finger without hesitation. A bead of blood welled bright crimson against her skin. She pressed it to the tree bark, mingling with the golden symbols still glowing there.

“Blood of life,” she murmured, “essence of being. Bind these souls to form, to flesh, to breath.”

The chanting began again, stronger now, her voice carrying through the clearing. The symbols on the tree flared brighter as a pressure built around us, as if the air itself was condensing. Beside me, Soraya gasped, her form wavering slightly .

With a final word that seemed to echo longer than it should have, Selyse flung her arms wide. The symbols from the tree rushed toward us, sinking into our spectral forms like stones into water.

Pain lanced through me—sharp, searing, overwhelming. I heard Soraya cry out beside me, felt myself falling to my knees on the forest floor.

And then, suddenly, it was over.

I knelt on the ground, hands pressed against moss and soil that I could feel beneath my palms. My chest heaved with breath I suddenly needed. My heart—dormant for centuries—pounded against my ribs.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

I was alive. Not truly, perhaps, but close enough.

I could feel everything—the cool earth beneath me, the gentle breeze against my skin, the weight of my own body. Sensations crashed over me in waves, overwhelming in their intensity after so long without.

The colors seemed even brighter now, the sounds clearer, the scents more potent. The world had transformed from a distant painting to a visceral reality I could touch, taste, breathe.

Beside me, Soraya remained on her knees, her hands pressed flat against the ground. “I can feel it,” she whispered, wonder breaking through the pain in her voice. “I can actually feel it.”

She looked up at me, tears streaming down her face, and something in my newly beating heart twisted. She was even more beautiful in this form—warm, vibrant, real in a way that her spirit had only hinted at.

I reached out without thinking, offering my hand—a simple gesture, but it seemed startlingly natural.

She took it, the touch of her skin against mine sent a shock through my system.

The warmth. The softness. Though I’d just held her in my arms not long ago to bring her here, this sensation of touch here in the living realm was unlike anything I could have imagined.

In awe of how her living skin felt against mine, I pulled her to her feet.

Selyse leaned heavily against the tree, her face pale with exertion. “It worked,” she said, a hint of surprise in her voice.

“We’re... alive?” Soraya asked, still holding my hand.

“Not exactly,” Selyse corrected. “You’re still souls, but now bound to temporary physical forms. You’ll need to eat, sleep, breathe like the living. But you’re not truly alive.”

“Can we get injured? Or die?” Soraya asked. “Like what happens if I get run over by a bus like this?”

Selyse furrowed her brow. “A bus?”

Soraya sighed. “Sorry, Mortal Realm. I just mean, what happens if something fatal happens to us, like some asshole with a dagger stabs me again.”

Selyse shook her head. “You aren’t technically alive, so you shouldn’t be able to die again. You may get kicked out of your body and return to a soul however, but this is my first time doing this spell, so I can’t say for certain.”

I barely heard her. I was too consumed by sensation—the feel of Soraya’s hand in mine, the solidity of the ground beneath my feet, the smells of the forest filling my lungs.

Eight hundred years as a ghost, a shadow, a creature of the in-between. Eight hundred years of watching the living world from behind a veil, never touching, never truly experiencing it.

And now, suddenly, I could feel again.

“Rhyker?” Soraya’s voice, concerned. “Are you okay?”

I turned to find both women watching me—Soraya worried, Selyse with quiet understanding.

“Yes,” I said, though my voice sounded strange to my own ears. Rougher. More real. “It’s just... been a long time.”

“A very long time if I had to guess,” Selyse said softly. “Since you felt anything at all. ”

I didn’t answer. I didn’t need to. The truth was written in every overwhelmed reaction of my newly physical body.

I had done it—broken Reaper law in a way so profound, so absolute, that punishment felt inevitable. I had left the Shadowveil, abandoned my post, defied the Veil Lords themselves.

And I had done it for her.

Not because she was beautiful—though she was. Not because she stirred something in my chest I hadn’t felt in centuries—though she did. But because she was human . Because she was the first soul I’d seen in over eight hundred years that reminded me of who I used to be.

She was my last chance to do something that mattered. A final chance to protect one of my own. Maybe even save what was left of myself in the process.

As I stared at Soraya in the dappled forest light, my newly awakened senses were overwhelmed by her presence.

I could smell the subtle scent of her hair—something sweet and floral that stirred memories long buried.

I could see the depth of blue in her eyes, not the flat color visible behind the veil, but all the shifting shades of life.

I could hear the slight catch in her breath as she looked back at me, feel the warmth radiating from her skin even from where I stood.

And in that moment, with perfect, terrifying clarity, I realized: I would break every law in existence for her. I would face obliteration without flinching. Not just because she was human.

Because she was this human.

Maybe it was foolish. Maybe it was dangerous. But I couldn’t help the way something inside me stirred to life every time I looked at her.

I wasn’t sure if these feelings were a blessing or a curse.

But I was beginning to suspect... they might be both.