Reapers: in the wake of black fire

Sorrow sat on her knees overlooking the carnage from the rocky outcropping, thick lines of hot tears ran down her cheeks. When she felt a cold breeze against her neck, and rocks crunch underfoot she turned her head slightly to meet the one approaching.

An elven man with fine fey-like features, perfected angles, and fine marble smooth skin, beauty incarnate, all besides the dark circles under his eyes. “Hello Sorrow.” The Sardonic Reaper said as he lowered to crouch beside her. “You called me?” he asked.

Sorrow gave a small whimper and nod. “It is…” she made a leveled half circle before her hand palm up.

The carnage was fairly spread out. At least two dozen men, give or take. The most harrowing aspect of it wasn’t the broken men left to rot in this badland, it was the elongated skewed afterimages of men burned as silhouettes into the rocky clay ground. It took power, real power to do something like that.

“How could armies do this to each other?” Sorrow asked.

Sardonic put his elbows on his knees then rested his chin in his palms, looking down at everything. He closed his eyes and took a long deep breath. “Wasn’t an army,” he said, pointing to a few of the men. “All wearing the same markers. Only one group of bodies here.” he said, matter of factly. “Inquisition.” he pointed out.

Sorrow nearly choked on her next words, “One person did this!?”

With a sigh and a nod Sardonic stood. “Lots of anger.” he said, “But focused, but we can talk about that later.” he pointed to the field. “They’re waking up.” Sardonic said before stepping to the edge and jumping landing like he’d jumped onto a pillow from just a few feet up despite it being at least one hundred feet from where he started, a moment later Sorrow landed even softer.

Sardonic clapped his hands loudly and cupped them around his mouth to make his voice carry. “All right! Gather round! I’m only giving this speech once, and you’re gonna want to hear it I promise.”

One man, likely the second in command, was the first to approach. “Where is Captain Grimsby?”

“Who’s that now?” Sardonic asked.

Sorrow leaned into his ear. “Their leader.” she explained.

“Oh! Right right.” Sardonic said. “Well, good news bad news, he’s alive. Somewhere. Otherwise I’d sense him, bad news you’re not.”

“Lie!” the man went to swing a sword but panicked when he found nothing on his belt.

“They always try to swing on me. I don’t get it.” Sardonic said.

“Perhaps it is your bedside manner.” Sorrow answered.

But the men had gathered. “Okay. Listen up!” Sardonic said, “You’ve all died, tragic really. But that means you are on borrowed time, if we don’t get you to ‘The Crossing’ soon you won’t be able to crossover.”

“You are lying.” one of the men said.

“I wish he was.” Sorrow said, “But if you do not cross you will be stuck guiding others until the end of time.” she explained.

It took a lot of convincing, but eventually they managed to get everyone moving. Sorrow and Sardonic leading from the front. When they got to the portal, the men filed in, but their second in command was last to enter, stopping before stepping through.

“Is this really the portal to my promised afterlife?” he asked.

“An after life of sorts.” Sardonic said, “But a bit more bad news. You lot were monsters in life. Your little game of ‘killing witches’ you killed a lot of innocent people, people who died terrified and alone. And most of you relished in it. At a table of 10 people, you sit with one monster there are ten monsters at the table.”

“So…I’m going to one of the nine hells?” the second in command asked.

“Oh dear.” Sardonic put his hand on the man’s shoulders. “Much worse.” and with the Sardonic shoved the man through the gateway.

Sorrow looked at him. “That was terribly cruel. You do not know what afterlife awaits them.”

“As were they,” and he hooked a thumb at the fading portal. “And men like that I do. Oblivion. Suffering every pain inflicted, over and over and over until they unravel, and get knitted back together for eternity.”

“I want to disagree for my own sake but you are probably correct.” she sniffled. “Let us depart.”

Sardonic wasn’t much for emotional exchange but took Sorrow by the shoulders and pulled her into a tight hug. “Be strong. There are far more deserving of your grief.”

With that the two departed. Off to do their own jobs.