Val wandered through the ruins of his former estate, his footsteps echoing against the hollow remains of a life long lost. The air was thick with the scent of decay and forgotten memories, the moon casting fractured beams through the skeletal remains of the once-proud mansion. Unbeknownst to him, a shadow slithered in his wake...a cat, black as the abyss, its body shifting like living darkness. Its fur did not merely absorb the light but devoured it, rippling like ink spilled upon the night.
Twin golden eyes burned in its spectral face, gleaming like molten gold, unblinking, relentless. A long tail trailed behind it, flickering at the edges like a flame wrought from shadow, curling and twisting as if it had a will of its own. The creature moved without a sound, its presence a whisper of something ancient, something patient. It watched, waiting, as if it alone knew the fate that lurked beyond the veil of night.
"You have a nice sword," purred a voice, rich and smooth like silk spun in darkness.
Valen barely had time to react before the shifting shadow at his feet twisted, unraveling into something else something not quite human. Where once had been the black cat now stood a woman, draped in a flowing dress darker than midnight, its fabric shifting like liquid shadow. Her skin was pale, almost unnatural, like polished ivory or moonlit bone. But it was her eyes that held him frozen, golden blazing like twin suns in the abyss, brimming with something ancient and knowing.
At the sound of her voice, Valen jerked back, his hand instinctively closing around the hilt of his sword. Steel sang as he drew it, the blade catching the fractured moonlight.
"Who are you?!" he demanded, his voice sharp with caution.
The woman only smiled, a slow, knowing curve of her lips, as if his fear amused her.
"Who am I, you ask?" Her voice was a whisper and a roar, layered with echoes of things long dead. "I am the future and the past."
Even as she spoke, her form unraveled, dissolving into the surrounding darkness. The shadows behind Valen stirred, coiling like living smoke, and before he could react, she was there too close, too sudden.
"I am the thing your kind calls Death."
The words slithered through the cold air, sinking into his bones like an unshakable truth. The golden light of her eyes burned brighter, twin embers in the abyss, watching him with something between amusement and hunger.
Valen's grip on his sword tightened. His breath was steady, but his heart pounded against his ribs.
"Death?" He forced the word out, though it felt absurd on his tongue. "If that were true, I'd be dead already."
The woman Death smiled, slow and knowing.
"Perhaps."
Death's smile lingered, sharp as a dagger's edge. "But I didn't come here for you."
Her golden gaze flicked past him, tracing the ruins, the blood that still clung to the broken stone. "You killed those goblins, didn't you?" She tilted her head slightly, as if considering something unseen. "And those women… oh."
A slow realization dawned across her face, and for the first time, something akin to understanding perhaps even amusement touched her voice.
"I see."
Her laughter was soft, a sound like dry leaves stirring in the wind, as if she had just stumbled upon some private joke. She took a step closer, the air around her growing colder.
"Tell me, Valen…" Her voice curled around his name like silk and smoke. "Do you fear me?"
"Should I?" Valen asked, though his throat tightened as he swallowed, his mouth dry despite the damp night air.
Death's smile deepened, her golden eyes flickering like dying stars. "Of course you shouldn't," she purred.
She lifted a hand, and the shadows around her stirred, writhing like living things. "Fear is for those who still have something to lose." Her fingers traced the air, and for the briefest moment, Valen swore he saw faces in the darkness twisted, silent, watching.
"Do you?" she asked, her voice softer now, almost gentle. "Have something left to lose?"
The air between them was cold, heavy with unspoken truths. Valen's grip on his sword tightened.
"I have nothing left to lose," Valen answered, his voice steady, though his fingers curled tightly around the hilt of his sword. "Perhaps only this blade remains."
Death watched him for a moment, unreadable, then inclined her head ever so slightly. "Then you have no reason to fear me."
A silence stretched between them, thick as the night. Then, almost idly, she murmured, "I hope those women, slain by those goblins, will find peace… thanks to you."
Her words hung in the cold air, and though they carried no accusation, something in them felt heavier than steel. The golden glow of her eyes dimmed, as if she were gazing past him—beyond the ruins, beyond the world itself.
Valen swallowed hard. "And will they?"
Death's lips curled into something that was not quite a smile. "Perhaps."
"Did they have something to lose?" Death's voice was softer now, almost a whisper, yet it coiled around Valen like unseen chains.
A chill ran down his spine as she stepped closer. The air thickened, heavy with something he couldn't name. Sweat beaded at his brow despite the cold. Then, just beside his ear, a voice silk and shadow brushed against him like a phantom's touch.
"I hope not."
Before he could react, she was behind him, her presence like a fading dream. Valen's fingers tightened around his sword, but his grip felt hollow. His breath was slow, measured.
"I don't know," he admitted, the words feeling too small, too fragile.
A pause. Then, as if amused by his answer, she murmured, "Me either."
The darkness around her shifted, unraveling, folding into itself. Her form withered, collapsing into liquid shadow, and where once stood the woman, now a cat remained its golden eyes the last to fade before it slipped into the night. A trace of glimmering dust lingered in the air, swirling like dying embers, then vanished into nothingness.
And Valen was alone once more.
Val exhaled slowly, his fingers loosening from the hilt of his sword. The weight of the encounter still clung to him like a cold mist, but the presence of Death had faded, leaving only silence and the distant howl of the wind through the ruins.
He cast one last glance at the spot where she had vanished, at the lingering trace of shimmering dust now dissolving into the night. A shiver crawled up his spine.
"I should go back to Orlen," he whispered to himself, his voice barely louder than the wind. "Maybe he will know more about this."
Turning away from the ruins, he adjusted the sword at his hip and stepped into the darkness, his path uncertain but no longer alone in the knowledge that something, or someone, was watching....