First Reaping

Shadow of Death

He stood with is muzzle raised to the sky, whiskers bent and twisted as they sagged from the sides of his muzzle while faded green eyes looked upon a beautiful summer night's sky. Behind him loomed the figure of Samael, the angel of death's great ebon wings hidden under his timeless cloak, a cloak older but otherwise identical to what the small wallaby wore. The pair stood on the city limits of a coastal town of more than ten thousand souls looking up at the twinkling stars and the sickle if a waning moon, their eyes set upon the one blemish that evaded mortal detection purely by its size and distance from them. Shadow mused upon the semblance of the moon and his scythe for only a moment for that was all that could be spared.

Emerging from the darkness, the wallaby squinted as his eyes struggled to handle the light of the city and the stars, lights far more vivid than the faded hues on the other side that served as his home for countless ages. Both city and moonlight fell upon his face to make the white of his lower jaw seems to glow in comparison to the gray that covered the rest of his face. Not even the mortal world could make the black of his ear tips or the cheetah like tear trails on his cheeks vivid again. Hundreds of lifetimes behind him, it could be argued that his fading hues were more a sign of the wear upon his soul than any bleaching or whitening brought upon by time. No taller than a kindergartener, his little scythe weighed heavy in his paw, guilt and remorse more than mass reminding him of why he carried it, and tonight would be the first time he returned to the world of the living with it at his side.

"Go," was the only word Samael spoke, and Shadow obeyed. Alone he ran towards the town, beginning a race against the coming calamity and the other powers that stood to profit by its coming. A great stone was to fall off shore tonight, and with it would come a wave of such force that this little town would be erased. Others would suffer as well, but they had other reapers from allied divisions to tend to them. This city was to be Shadow's as a test of his skill and readiness to defend the fallen from the others that lingered in waiting for unattended souls. Already demons waded into the unwary masses, hoping to take with them as many souls as they could carry, and only the youngest and most foolish of them thought this would be a simple task. The rest knew the danger a reaper's scythe, some of them having survived closer encounters with them while others plotted to acquire one by any means. With an event as large as tonight's, they were counting on the need for the deployment of far more than the usual number of psychopomps.

Black furred feet crossed form grass to concrete on a quest to reach the center of the town. There were far too many souls here for a single reaper to manage, but that is what a cataclysm reaper is made for. Suicide, accidents, old age, every one of these and more had their own reaper specializing in collecting and handling the last moments of that soul's life, but cataclysm reapers were a rare sort. A reaper tends to take on the form of death that it suffered in life, but those made to handle mass deaths came about by another means. For them, it is the kinds of death they inflicted that fates them to an afterlife of servitude, and even if Shadow welcomed this chance to redeem himself, even if the only one he was to redeem himself to was himself, it was a solemn and difficult task. Cross the the first intersection on the edge of town, two more of him arose from the shadows and continued on the other road while the first pressed on. Road by road they continues to split and spread until an army filled the streets, a force comprised entirely of what could be called spacetime echoes of the original. The living past through and around them without ever seeing them while those with expanded senses could tell something was amiss. Knowing the adversaries were here, Shadow banked on two copies per soul. On this night there was nothing more important to him.

Distant watchers would see the fiery trail as the meteor streaked across the sky, but for most int his city, they were not in positions to take notice as the sky fell upon the ocean. The explosive rumble turned all heads and cast the city into a state of fearful alertness. The wall of water rose like a black curtain reaching for the heavens and cutting off the sky from below. Towering twenty stories tall, its size made judging its speed nearly impossible, but the only thing that mattered about how fast it moved was that it moved too fast for anyone to escape its arrival. Many ran, some tried to reach their cars, and others sought shelter atop of buildings in hopes they might rise above. In the panic, dropped cell phones and car headlights shone like a weak replica of the stars shining down upon them, and for the ten minutes before landfall, the city glowed with the collective light of all of its denizens like a star flaring up before its demise.

At the side of every soul stood two reapers, and every echo was its own thinking, feeling being. Unseen, they tied themselves in to each soul and readied for the moment when it would be liberated from its body, but they felt more than duty. They were there guarding a mother and her infant as she ran for shelter, and they could feel her fear and the desperate need to protect that unsoiled life in her arms. They were there when others fell to their knees and begged for safety or forgiveness, but there was neither they could offer to these souls for that was for others to grant. Regardless of age, gender, income, or faith, he was going to be the first thing these souls met, but Shadow was helpless to do anything until they died. At least, he was helpless to aid the mortals, but there were other dregs already rising up to claim their prizes.

Created as a living weapon with thousands of years of combat experience on top of service with the army of Anubis, and there was absolutely nothing that could prepare him for thus night. Tiny blades shone in the moonlight as it faded with the shadow of the tsunami struggled to turn back the surprise attacks of demons and outer entities, and for what infernal blood was spilled there was ample bloodshed on the part of the reaper echoes, the evaporation of the echo and its weapon upon the reaper's death infuriating those trying to claim death's implements. The excess reapers proved necessary until the wave struck and all things changed.

The force and size of the wave resulted in destruction that would later be compared to a nuclear detonation. From the beach to the city limit, the city vanished in minutes leaving behind dislocated souls to see their home erased while they watched, their souls spared the damage of their death, but they still remained long enough to see the end result. Many souls were terrified when they realized death was present, even such a short little death, and half of the echoes were forced to escort and even chase the souls to keep them safe while others were quickly forced into acting as counselors. The questions of why them and what would happen now coming up everywhere and in the end the answer was always the same: your answers are coming. A few and exceptionally bold souls recognized there were multiple factions present, and one fiery grandmother stood with her reaper with her cross in hand to ward off the evils present. A preacher gave what was likely to be the one true sermon in his history, taking it on himself to help gather the souls and give them hope before the light came.

It was like an aurora, a curtain of shimmering light that sent the last of the infernal beasts running in fear as they howled in rage at the force that they could not challenge. It was not a light or one location though but one suited for each soul. In the case of a few, Shadow's echoes carried the little ones to reach their parents before at least each soul found something they needed: peace. This was the way it was to be. The mortals live, their souls guarded in death by the reapers until their final destiny shows for them. In the case of such a terrible death in such great numbers, those upstairs were kind enough not to delay the process of crossing over. As the souls left this plane, the echoes faded and returned until at last there were no souls left and only one small reaper kneeling in the ruins of the city center.

He could still feel everything from their the impacts that killed them to the emotions they felt before and after death, but that was not what left him with his head hung low and his tears lost in the receding flood water. Each time he closed his eyes, he recalled the day the command was given by none other than himself to unleash a weapon that erased hundreds billions of lives, but now he knew what they must have felt seeing the wave of destruction coming towards them with no means to escape or defend themselves. This was the precise reason Shadow existed as a cataclysm reaper, and it was probably the first time he ever prayed to anyone in all his years. Would it ever get easier? Could he ever do enough to atone for what he allowed to happen? There was no light there to answer him, only the glint of moonlight on broken glass and the occasional glow of a wayward cell phone.

Samael walked effortlessly through the rubble to find his apprentice upon which he laid one boney hand. "As long as you care, it will never be easier just as it has never been any easier for me now than it was in the beginning. If you are to do the job well, you have to care about it and about them. " Death looked down at Shadow and then looked out over the sea, "When I think you are ready, we will see about the rest. Come. There is nothing more we can do here." He took Shadow's small fuzzy paw into his fleshless hand and lead him away from the city, "You did well." It was the only comfort Shadow had in that he did right by these souls, but they were only the beginning.