The shadows tightened around Zareth, cold and weighty, like a binding force that held him in place. He floated in the void, feeling the emptiness close in on him.
Death's last words echoed in his mind, carrying both a promise and a warning
"Your trial is near. Be ready."
As Zareth hovered in the darkness, the cold seeped deeper into his bones.
The silence was profound, unbroken by breath or heartbeat. Shadows pulsed around him, alive in a way he couldn't quite understand.
They seemed to cling to him, shifting and writhing, reacting to his presence like living beings.
Then, a tremor rippled through the void, growing steadily stronger. The shadows began to draw him downward, pulling him into their depths as if responding to an unspoken command.
Zareth's pulse quickened. He tried to brace himself, but he was powerless against the force that dragged him down. With a final, violent surge, he was cast out of the void and into a strange, half-lit world.
Zareth landed on solid ground, his knees hitting the earth with a harsh impact.
He steadied himself, glancing around as he rose to his feet. The world around him felt muted, as though veiled in mist.
Everything was washed in shades of gray, blending into a dim, lifeless landscape. Vague shapes drifted in and out of view figures that were unclear, like shadows of people who once lived.
Some were fully formed, others translucent, almost ghostly.
He took a few steps forward, feeling a strange sense of weight in his limbs, as though the gravity here was heavier than it was in the living world. Each step seemed to echo in the silence, a small sound swallowed quickly by the mist. Ahead of him, he noticed a lone figure sprawled on the ground.
It was a soldier, lying amid the remnants of what looked like a battlefield. Blood was splattered across the dirt, and broken weapons lay scattered around him, relics of a fierce struggle.
Zareth approached, feeling the weight of his task settle over him. He had been sent here for a reason.
This soldier, still clinging to life even as death's grasp reached for him, was caught between realms, neither fully alive nor truly departed.
"This is my duty"
Zareth thought, though he felt a flicker of doubt.
Being chosen as Death's disciple had always felt surreal, something beyond his control.
And now, he was supposed to touch someone's life directly, to guide them to an ending he himself didn't fully understand.
The soldier groaned, his body convulsing with pain. Zareth could feel the desperation in the man's aura, his life force struggling against the inevitable. The shadows around Zareth stirred, sensing his intent.
They gathered at his command, wrapping around him like living extensions of his will. He reached out a hand, focusing on the pull of death, trying to let the shadows flow through him in a way that would guide the man gently.
But as his hand neared the soldier, an invisible force resisted him.
The soldier's life force clung tenaciously to the thread that bound him to the living world, as though defying Zareth's attempts to sever it. Zareth's own strength faltered, his control wavering against the man's stubborn will.
A sense of frustration rose within him. He could feel the power within, just beyond his reach, but he couldn't control it. Why won't he let go? he thought, a tinge of irritation creeping into his mind.
He knew he was here to perform a duty, to keep the balance, but it felt as though the man was fighting him, rejecting his purpose.
Before Zareth could reassert his control, a warmth flickered in the air, cutting through the cold shadows. Zareth drew back instinctively, eyes narrowing as a figure emerged from the mist, bathed in a radiant, golden light.
The newcomer's presence repelled the darkness around Zareth, pushing it back like oil from water.
Cloaked in simple robes that glowed with an inner warmth, the figure moved with calm grace, yet there was an intensity in his gaze that made Zareth's own power feel like a flickering flame beside a blazing fire.
As the disciple's eyes met Zareth's, his serene expression faltered. His gaze widened, and he took a small, involuntary step back.
"You… you're a disciple of Death," he murmured, voice tinged with disbelief. He scanned Zareth's form, his light flickering as he struggled to process the sight before him.
"I thought disciples of Death were a myth, an ancient tale. How are you even real?"
Zareth raised an eyebrow, masking the flicker of satisfaction that surfaced at the disciple's reaction.
"Surprised?"
The disciple quickly regained his composure, but a gleam of contempt flashed in his eyes. "Surprised? Perhaps.
But more than that, I'm appalled. A disciple of Death would dare walk among the living realms?" His voice hardened, laced with disdain. "You're a danger. A threat to the very balance you claim to serve."
Zareth felt a surge of irritation. "It's not your place to decide that. His time has come, and I'm here to guide him."
The disciple of Life folded his arms, his golden light intensifying as his eyes narrowed. "And what authority do you have to make that call?
Do you even understand the power you wield, or are you just a shadow, blindly following orders?" His tone was laced with scorn, his stance radiating barely concealed hostility.
The soldier lying between them groaned, his body convulsing as he clung to his last breaths.
Zareth's gaze flicked to him, torn between his duty and the disciple's taunting words.
The shadows around him pulsed, responding to his indecision, swirling restlessly. He tried to ignore the disciple, focusing on guiding the soldier's soul, but he could feel the disciple's growing animosity.
The disciple of Life's lips curled in a sneer. "Weak. You can't even control your own shadows.
You're unworthy of a title as profound as 'Death's disciple.'" With a sudden movement, he lifted his hand, and the air around him pulsed with golden energy, gathering into a blinding light.
"I can't allow you to walk freely in the realm of Life. You will only bring decay and ruin."
Before Zareth could respond, the disciple lunged forward, his hand blazing with divine energy.
He moved with astonishing speed, his light searing through the mist like a blade.
Zareth barely had time to raise his arms in defense as the disciple's attack crashed against him, sending a shockwave through the shadows around him.
Zareth staggered back, feeling the impact of the light burn through his defenses. The warmth clashed violently with his shadows, dispersing them in wild, chaotic bursts. He gritted his teeth, bracing himself against the disciple's unrelenting assault.
"Your very presence pollutes this place," the disciple spat, his eyes blazing with a fury that was nearly fanatical.
"You're a twisted creature, a mockery of life itself!"
Zareth felt his own anger flare, fueling the shadows around him.
"You think you can decide what belongs and what doesn't? You're blinded by your own arrogance."
The disciple smirked, his golden light flaring brighter as he prepared another strike. "Life is the only force worthy of reverence.
Death is nothing but decay and emptiness, and you are an agent of that void.
" I cannot let you continue"
Zareth's fists clenched, his shadows gathering around him in a dense, writhing cloud.
The disciple's words stung, but he forced himself to stay calm, remembering Death's warning "Every choice you make carries weight."
He couldn't afford to let his emotions spiral out of control.
But the disciple of Life showed no signs of restraint.
With a furious cry, he launched himself at Zareth again, golden light blazing from his hands.
Zareth barely managed to block the attack, feeling the burn of the disciple's energy sear through his shadows.
The force of the blow sent him stumbling backward, his body reeling from the clash of opposing powers.
Zareth felt his strength fading, his shadows barely holding against the disciple's relentless assault.
The disciple's light intensified, burning hotter, pressing in closer. Zareth could feel his defenses weakening, the shadows around him dissipating like mist.
His body ached, his breaths coming in shallow, desperate gasps. His vision began to blur, and the cold dread of death pressed down on him only this time, he wasn't the one wielding it.
The disciple of Life sneered, sensing Zareth's vulnerability.
"Pathetic"
A disciple of Death, beaten so easily." His hand glowed brighter, readying a final strike. "I'll cleanse this realm of your darkness once and for all."
Zareth's chest tightened with a fierce, unyielding rage.
He'd come this far, defied the odds, been chosen by Death itself and now, he was about to be killed by someone who saw him as nothing more than a threat to be snuffed out.
The disciple's words echoed in his mind, taunting him, belittling him.
"Pathetic. Unworthy."
A surge of defiance erupted within him, fierce and primal.
No, he thought, his vision sharpening as his resolve solidified.
I won't die here. Not like this.
"Enough," he growled, his voice low and filled with wrath.
With fierce focus, he drew every ounce of shadow around him, pulling it into his fist.
The darkness thickened, swirling into a dense, pulsing mass that seemed to devour the light around it.
His hand burned with raw power, the shadows vibrating with a hunger he hadn't felt before.
The disciple's eyes widened, a flash of shock and fear breaking through his arrogance as he saw Zareth's transformation.
He took a step back, raising his glowing hands as if to shield himself.
"What… what are you"
Zareth lunged forward with a snarl, his fist cloaked in the pure darkness of Death's domain. He drove his hand forward, punching through the disciple's chest with a force that shattered the silence. The shadows burst outward in a dark wave, swallowing the disciple's golden light.
The disciple's mouth opened in a silent gasp,
his eyes widening in horror.
His light flickered, dimmed, then vanished entirely as Zareth withdrew his hand, leaving only a gaping void where the disciple's heart had once been.
He staggered, clutching at his chest, his body trembling as the last traces of life drained from his face.
"You…" he managed to whisper, his voice barely a breath.
"You're… a monster…"
Zareth watched as the disciple's form
crumpled, his body dissolving into faint, fading wisps of golden light.
The shadows around Zareth pulsed with satisfaction, settling around him like a dark shroud.
His own breathing was ragged, his chest heaving from the effort, but he couldn't deny the fierce satisfaction that surged within him.
For a long moment, he simply stood there, feeling the weight of what he'd done.
He had ended a life a life chosen by a god and claimed his first true victory as Death's disciple.
But beneath the satisfaction, a darker realization began to settle in, cold and unsettling.
He looked down at his hand, still cloaked in shadow, and flexed his fingers.
The power was intoxicating, potent beyond anything he'd felt before.
But it came with a cost, a darkness that clung to him, filling him with a chill that seemed to seep into his bones.
In the silence that followed, the weight of his actions sank in.
He had broken his vow to guide, to keep the balance, and chosen instead to strike, to end a life out of rage and survival.
The power he had unleashed felt right, but he understood that this choice would not come without a price.
The shadows around him pulsed once more, and he felt the presence of the void return.
The scene around him faded as he was drawn back, the cold embrace of Death wrapping around him.
Death's voice echoed through the darkness, resonant and unyielding.
"You have proven your strength, Zareth. But remember, every choice shapes the path you walk."
Zareth swallowed hard, the cold biting deeper into his core.
He had passed his first trial, but it had cost him a piece of himself.
As he drifted back into the void, he couldn't shake the feeling that the darkness he'd unleashed would haunt him far longer than the disciple's fading light.