"Could you not have planned a more graceful death for my daughter?" Emelina asked the Witch.
She didn't notice it, but the Witch felt sad at her daughter's mention.
"Unfortunately, I'm not the one who makes these decisions. I am only the one who does the work."
"Ah. What a grim job."
"Someone has to do the grim jobs…" The Witch's expression bore evidence to her words.
"Is that why they call you the grim reaper, then?"
She smiled meekly. "Probably…"
She perked up when she brought her gaze from the ground to Emelina. "Care for one last cup of tea? I promise to make it the best one you've ever tasted."
"I can't remember the last time I had tea, so whatever you give me will probably taste exquisite!"
She guided Emelina into the cottage. A fireplace inside made it pleasantly warm. Water for the tea was already boiling.
Emelina wondered at how neatly everything in the cottage was arranged. "So, what do they call you?"
"Oh, I have been called many names, but you can call me Meredith if you wish."
Meredith poured the tea with a graceful flair that Emelina had not seen in years. She handed her the cup of tea and knelt down to look at her legs. "Poor thing, they must be aching."
"Oh, they have been bothering me for years."
Emelina took a sip of tea and let out a sigh at the delightful flavours that mingled in her mouth. "This is one good cup of tea!"
Meredith smiled approvingly. "Luckily you aren't my sister. She hates all my recipes."
"Ah yes, I would think so. So what is it then? Black-weed?"
"Sleeping Bitterberry." Meredith corrected. "Completely painless."
"Ah! That's very clever! You certainly know your poisonous herbs."
"Been in this business a long time." Meredith smiled.
Emelina picked up on some sadness in her voice. "Why don't you go lie down on the bed? It's much more comfortable than this old chair. Besides, it's cold tonight. I would really like for you to be warm and peaceful."
"Oh, that's kind."
Meredith helped the old woman up and walked her over to the bed. Once she lied down, she covered her with a thick, fur blanket that looked to have been skinned from a brown bear.
"You are kind Emelina. Very few people are kind to me. I treasure these experiences." She gave Emelina her sincerest smile.
"There," she said as she tugged her in. "Goodnight, Emelina."
"Goodnight deary, and thank you for this." Emelina then closed her eyes, never to wake up again.
***
"…and that's when the Great Father slashed the army in half! Demon guts splattered everywhere and then he transformed into a dragon and flew away, back to his kingdom to protect the last of mankind…"
Meena moved her arms theatrically as she told the story that she supposedly overheard one of Magnus' Generals say. Nevetharine looked at her, amused, while resting her head in her hand.
Meena was a teenage girl, with dark, curly hair and big blue eyes. Her mother died long ago, but she never spoke about her father.
"I swear you are the only one who calls the Elder 'Great Father'." Nevetharine said.
"That's not true! Many people call him that. Just like many people call his fine-looking consort The Great Mother. They are a couple and they created us, so it's appropriate."
"But it sounds wrong! And you listen to too many stories." Nevetharine shook her head and smiled. "The Celestial Souls are either dead or a myth. You heard what Magnus said. There are no survivors. It's just us and a few wandering around in the wild that will soon die. Nobody survives Nomansland."
Meena dropped her arms with a disappointed look.
Nevetharine hated to tell her that, but she knew it to be the truth. Nobody could or would defeat Magnus. If Celestial Souls were alive, why didn't they help them? Obviously they didn't care.
"I can't believe that you listen to him. Come on Nevetharine, you know that's not true. I know you know. You have to feel that it's a lie…"
Here we go again, Nevetharine thought.
"Sorry, I don't. I don't feel anything. Except empty. Like there's a hole inside me."
"Aye, there is a hole inside you. Up there!" Meena said while pointing to her head.
At that moment one of the Slave Masters burst through the doors, "Get back to work!" it bellowed in a deep, rumbling voice.
Meena and Nevetharine scrambled up from the floor and went their separate ways. Meena went to the kitchen and Nevetharine had the unpleasant job of going outside to collect water from the well. It's not getting the water that was unpleasant. It was the fact that she had to go out into town. The people frightened her. They looked at her like she was something to eat and she was so weak and frail that she had no power to defend herself against them. As sickly as they were, they were as strong as mammoths.
She picked up the bucket and walked down the hallway past the Slave Masters. She watched them from the corner of her eye.
The Slave Masters were ugly looking monstrosities. Their bodies were a massive bulk with a fat head, covered in short horns. They had deformed nostrils and large tusks protruded from their mouths. They always carried numerous instruments fit for torture and they made sure to use them often.
Their presence urged her to walk faster. The great iron doors were just up front. The guards, who were dark, armoured phantoms, opened them for her and for just a second she allowed her mind to imagine that she was walking to freedom…
"Move it whore!" One of the guards shouted while grabbing her by the shoulder and hurling her across the street.
As she landed, the bucket fell out of her hands. For a few seconds she remained motionless, mentally checking if anything was broken. She got to her feet slowly and, realising that everything was fine, except for the skin being stripped off her arm from the fall, she picked up the bucket and continued to the centre of town were the water well stood.
She walked carefully yet quickly, while not daring to make eye contact with anyone. Her heart beat faster as she felt all the eyes on her. The streets stunk of decay and stool. It was revolting. But she hadn't eaten in a week, so she was in no danger of becoming physically sick.
She glanced to the side and caught a glimpse of a scrawny-looking man with large eyes staring at her. He had a rake in his hands and an evil smile with larger-than-normal canine teeth. She couldn't understand how she, or Meena for that matter, looked so different from them. It was as if they were two different species of human. What was left of the human race evolved into cannibals.
As she came around the corner she bumped into a large group of people. She looked up and saw the executioner. One of the girls was tied to a wooden pole. She recognised the woman. It was the one she saw being dragged down the hallway. Instantly, she recognised this scene to be a sacrificial ritual.