• In this world, there are secrets. Secrets not fit for human ears. For should they be revealed, order as we know it, will be thrown into chaos. As a reaper, I acknowledge that this terrible risk, may never be gambled upon. My duty is to protect the world from falling into disrepair. To ensure that the natural life cycle of all things remains undisturbed.

    I am Willow, for that is the only name I can recall. I am a reaper of death. Nothing more than a mere reflection of that which no longer exists. A hollow shell of the former child that I once was, a child who made a bargain with Death.

    Now sitting here under my favorite tree, I ponder my past. For reasons even I alone cannot understand, this tree beside the pond has always helped me recover memory. Every time I rest upon its roots, the fog in my mind clears, and the answers of my clouded past begin to illuminate.

    The wind blew through the trees like an ocean current, resting only for a time and returning once more. At times, the wind speaks and forms words. Words which seem to dance across the ear, only stopping to peer in, as if to speak. Now, it tells me of that which I must remember: a horrid night encased in flames.

    My thoughts returned to the previous year. It was a simple autumn night and the entire family had been sitting inside the house, warming by the fire. The hours grew long, so we headed upstairs and drifted off to sleep. The fire, which had not been extinguished, was still burning brightly.

    One would think that everything was safe, but that night, nothing was further from it. The entire house was ablaze within the hour. The room reeked of smoke which has crawled upstairs. I awakened to the burning inferno, the hot air burned my face. The bedroom walls were already engulfed in a fiery rage. Frantic, I tried to run for the door, but a wooden beam from the ceiling fell, thrust against my chest and crushing most of my ribs. I fell and a sharp pain erupted from my lungs as the beam grew heavier. I tried to stand, but all I could do was cry out in pain.

    As death embraced me, I heard my mother screaming. I felt so alone. Then I felt cold hands surround myself, choking out the last of my life. Such a waste. My life had ended before it had even begun. This is a joke. I laughed at this feeling of death. I mocked the very existence that had ended mine. I had no fear, for now there was nothing. But as I died, as the hands retracted, my ghost rose from floor, away from its crippled form. I felt my heart pulse again.

    I wandered aimlessly in the abyss, until a raspy voice attracted my attention. “Welcome, my child.” The voice lacked any sign of life. “Your time of passage is at hand.” A robed figure stepped forward. The man appeared to be ancient for his robe was caked with dirt and his hands were little more than bone. There was, however, a very terrifying feature about him: he carried a medieval scythe that was almost as tall as he was. It was difficult to determine who was more intimidating.

    Pondering what he had said, I opened my mouth to speak. The old man only hushed me. “I am death. The caretaker for all who pass on from the realm of the living. I have gazed seen few who have never had fear for one such as I, but you my child, are by far the most interesting.”

    The man reached into the arm of his robe and retrieved a manuscript. He grinned through his teeth, and the aura he gave off was enough to fill a hero’s heart with fear. “My little friend,” he grinned, “I have an offer for you, and I believe you will be graciously inclined to accept. You see, I take the souls of the deceased and provide them with a final resting place, be it eternal peace or eternal damnation. But I do not work alone in this business. A select few become my agents. They harvest the souls of the dead. Thus they are known as ‘Soul Harvesters’. Angels of the night who walk between the human world and the spirit realm.”

    The reaper held out the parchment to reveal a contract written in gold ink. “Sign this contract and the power of the reaper is yours. Should you find this offer… displeasing, There is always the damnation that awaits those who refuse to listen to my reason. The choice is ultimately yours.” It was plainly obvious there was no choice.

    I signed. The reaper smiled, “A wise choice.” Then he rolled the parchment and tucked it back into his robe. The old man raised his scythe overhead. Fear suddenly overcame me as I watched the scythe fall. The curved blade struck my shoulder and began to glow, still all I could do was watch.

    The reaper chanted an incantation and an energy flowed from his scythe into the wound. The numbness began to make me drowsy. Withdrawing the weapon brought a pain through my body. I grew limp and dropped to the floor. The world faded away.

    “Hey get up… hey!” My eyes opened to be blinded by sunlight. A boy about my age stood above me. “Hello. Nice to see you’re awake!” The boy had brown hair that almost completely covered his hazel eyes. He also wore a black robe that cloaked his body. I stood to find that I was dressed in the same attire.

    He smiled, “Welcome, new reaper. I see you’ve signed the contract. I don‘t blame you.” He was silent a moment, “Where are my manners, my name is Hunter.” The boy stuck out his hand. I cleared my throat to reply. “Hello, I’m…” Wait what was my name? Damn! I couldn’t remember! I panicked. Hunter, still waiting on my reply, repeated himself, “Your name is?”

    “Um… I don’t know actually.” I muttered shamefully. Hunter looked at me puzzled. “You can’t remember?” I nodded. “Well do you mind if I at least give you a nickname for now?” The question surprised me. “That’s fine, I guess.” The boy beamed with pride. Then he sat and thought to himself.

    His expression showed signs of frustration, his brow furrowed. Finally he gazed upon a giant willow tree. Hunter looks at me and then the tree. His face serious, then he just burst out laughing. “What?” I asked clueless. “Your hair! It reminds me of that weeping willow behind you!” he chuckled to himself.

    Bewildered by his stupidity, I brushed the rude remark aside. A few seconds of laughter and Hunter was back on his knees. “Perhaps I’ll call you Willow,” he snickered playfully. “Don’t you dare!” I barked as the two of us wandered into the woods.

    About an hour later the two of us were still making our way through the thicket. Hunter was telling stories of his family. As much as it killed the time, it only made me miss my old life even more. Being in a strange place, all the while knowing you’re dead, just isn’t a cheerful feeling. Suddenly, the dull clash of a bell sounding rang through the forest’s trees. Hunter paused. “Did you hear that?” He tore off in the direction of the noise. “Hey wait up!” I hollered, chasing after him.

    The thick mud-like soil of the forest floor made running nearly impossible. “Wait!” Hunter was quickly lost from sight. I believed yelling was futile for he obviously could no longer hear my voice. Light poured through the trees and within a moment, I tripped and was thrown into a clearing. Hunter stood waiting, a cheshire grin spread widely across his face. “You take forever,” he teased. I wanted to strangle him, but stopped myself.

    Hunter raised a finger and pointed into the distance. “What are you pointing at?” I asked curiously. “Look.” Why is he so quiet? A few minutes ago this kid was yapping his jaw off. I squinted in the direction he was pointing. A town! He was pointing at a town. “Raven Hold. You’ll never find a bigger dump for thieves and shady dealers to hide. This place is filled with the scum of the earth. You’d best stay close.”

    I thought Hunter was new here too, how would he know about this place? I guess he’s been around for a while, Perhaps I’m just being paranoid. The two of us approached the city gate. Two guards wearing full body armor stood watch. They looked down at us with a stone cold glare that made my nerves stand on end. We passed through unharmed.

    I followed Hunter as he led me through the traffic of merchants, fire dancers and, beggars. The entire town seamed to be full of life. Hunter walked into an old tavern. The sign read “Black Magic Brewery.” Why is everything so dark and medieval in this town?

    The inside of the tavern smelled of smoke and gunpowder. A few men busily chattered over a game of poker. One of them caught my attention. He was an old man probably in his sixties and his long white hair reached past his shoulders. He had a bald spot at the crown of his head. He was obviously having a good night for his pile of money was enormous compared those of the others.

    The man smiled to himself and dropped his hand of cards to the table. “Full House!” he rejoiced. Another man who had been playing finally cracked. He slammed his fist down on the table and looked the white haired man in the eyes. “Damn it, old man! You just blew my salary! How the hell am I going to live?” With that he put a knife to the old man‘s throat.

    “Oh, God,” Hunter mumbled, “Master is in trouble again.” A worried look across his face. “What master?” I pondered. The old man knocked the dagger aside is if it were nothing. He rose, cracking his knuckles. “Yes, that is Master Roland,” Hunter explained, “He is my teacher and a legendary reaper, second only to that of the Grim Reaper himself.” Roland’s fist thrust against the thugs face sending the angry man flying backwards. The man collided with a chair and collapsed to the floor unconscious.

    Another man pulled a pistol from his belt. The white-haired Roland grabbed a scythe which had been laying on the back wall. The entire weapon seemed to gleam in the dim light. He stood and faced the man who held the gun within his hand. I watched in awe as the one known as Roland disappeared into thin air.

    A chuckle turned my attention back to the thug at the table. There behind him stood Roland, his scythe reached around and lay right across the man’s throat. The thug grew pale with fear, stood perfectly still, for he could feel the stinging chill of the steel blade that threatened to end his life. “Be gone,” barked Roland, “Or it will be you who rests in the fiery depths of hell.”

    The cowardly man ran out of the tavern without looking back. Hunter approached Roland who was busily pouring the money into his bag. “Master Roland. There was a new girl I found in the woods today. She has no memory of her name but everything else seems intact, sir.” Roland turned away from his winnings for a moment. “A new harvester, you say?” “Yes sir. She’s right here.”

    The old man held his hand out to me. Skeptically I took his hand awaiting a handshake. Instead he yanked at my wrist and with his other hand, pressed two fingers in the center of my palm. “Be still,” he commanded, “This will do you no harm.” He stood there analyzing my palm for what seemed a long time.

    “No doubt,” he mumbled releasing my hand, “Let us be on our way. Come.” Hunter and I followed the old man as he led us through, back streets and alleyways. Hunter pulled me back for a moment. “Be careful, this is a poor district. The people here are a lot more dangerous,” he warned. “I’ll keep that in mind,” I replied. As we walked the streets, I observed many things, and some of them I wish I hadn’t. The people here wore tattered clothes and smelled of urine. Starving children sat upon porch steps begging for scraps while merchants marched the streets vending their questionable merchandise to any unlucky fool looking for lower prices.

    Roland pushed his way through the sea of beggars as he led us through the catacombs of worn brick streets. Finally, a small guard post came into view. A lone patrolman stood at the gates. “That guard is only here until dark, then the gate closes. Still, that doesn’t keep smugglers and thieves from using this as a ‘business’ route.” Hunter explained. The guard saluted Roland as he passed the gate. He must have a lot of respect around here for an old bag of bones.

    Exiting the town, Roland led us down a of cobblestone path. Finally, we stood before a large farmyard. There were no animals, but crops and scarecrows decorated the landscape. “Welcome to my home.” Roland smiled. That’s odd, that’s the first smile this man has ever shown. “Hunter, get our new student started on the field work. I’m going inside to prepare dinner.” Hunter jumped to attention. “Yes, Master.”

    “Let’s go, Willow.” Hunter motioned. Nodding, I followed. We stopped in front of an old tool shed. Hunter fished through the shed until he found a wooden rod. “Take this,” he instructed. Seizing the rod, I followed Hunter toward an unplowed field. Hunter motioned toward the untilled soil. “No! You can’t expect me to plow with this thing?”

    “It’s a training exercise we harvesters use to release our spiritual energy and summon upon our reaper scythe. Concentrate and when the time comes, your abilities will slowly come to you. Now get tilling.” Muttering angrily, I began attempting to plow the field. Trying to take my mind off the frustrating work, I decided I’d start a conversation with Hunter since all he was allowed to do was ‘supervise’ my work and I use that lightly. “So explain to me why it is this place is so medieval compared to my home?” Hunter returned from his day-dreaming. “Oh you mean the difference between the human world and the spirit world? It is odd I suppose. You see the two worlds are intertwined, one cannot be without the other. In the human world, time ticks by, but here, it barely exists.”

    “Well what about when you die?” Hunter looked up for the question surprised him. “Death? then you become one of the Banshee.” I stopped tilling, “Banshee?” Hunter grinned. “Never heard of them? Nasty things, really. They are reanimated beings possessed by the spirits of the deceased.” Zombies? Not quite what I expected. Hunter continued, “The Banshee lack any real purpose. They are more or less useless. Now, enough talk. Get back to plowing; there’s a long night ahead for us.”

    After hours of plowing, only five rows were fully tilled. Master Roland came by to survey the progress of my training. “Very good. Willow, do you believe you are ready for the next step in the training process?” Panting, I replied, “Master, I’m exhausted. Can I take a break?” Master Roland smiled. “Not yet. Hunter go inside and have something to eat. The two of us have training to do.” Hunter nodded. “Yes, master,” and walked toward the house.

    I whined, “Hey, I’m hungry too!” Master Roland only grew a tad impatient. He tossing a steel rod at my feet. “Then get busy,” he barked. With that, Master Roland gripped his scythe. Skeptically, I asked, “You’re saying if I beat you, I can eat?” The old man nodded . I smirked. “I’ll take that challenge!” I shouted as I charged him.

    Roland was there to block the advance just milliseconds before the impact. Then he counter-attacked. The back end of his scythe crashed across my face throwing me backwards. It happened so quickly that it wasn’t until after I landed that I felt the sharp sting. “How pathetic,” Master Roland spit, “At this rate you will never become a good reaper. Why should I waste my time?” With that he thrust the scythe’s blade into the earth, splitting it. Suddenly silhouettes began to pour from the split earth. “The god of death may have chosen you to be the Guardian but when I’m finished, you will wish he hadn’t. Now feel the power of a true reaper!” The silhouettes began to take the form of hounds. Their forms growing more menacing by the second.

    “I spent years waiting for the one to come! When it was foretold to me that I was to train this warrior I expected one of great potential! But now I see what a fool I was expecting such things! That ancient skeleton has always tried to get rid of me but this is a joke!” he cried. What is this crazy old man yelling about? Roland made a motion with his hands and the hounds lunged at me before I had time to react. They piled on top of me, smothered me, choked my breath. I couldn’t move. I was so cold, so alone. I was filled with rage. I was furious. My rage grew, and I felt something unlock itself. Something was unbolted and it rushed out at once. My hands began to glow. Each hound that made contact with the bizarre light was burned.

    I did not recognize this feeling, but I liked it. I used every bit of focus I could and concentrated the flow. “I have found It,” the old man celebrated, “After years of waiting, It is here! The Guardian of the Living, The Elemental Reaper!” My entire body now shone like the beam of a lighthouse, and an explosion of energy shot out, destroying the hounds completely. Then a wave of drowsiness hit me. Hunted voice cried out, “Willow are you alright… wake up… Willow!”

    The sound of wood crackling over an open fire echoed down the hall. My head was pounding and my legs protested movement, but the wondrous aroma of fried eggs filled my nostrils. Who says its never smart to think with your stomach? I Arose from the cot and made my way to the kitchen. Hunter was preparing breakfast. “Morning, lazy.” he grinned, returning to his eggs. “Where’s Master Roland?” Hunter turned. “He’s outside waiting for you. Apparently, you two have more to do.” Despite last night’s events, I decided the old man wouldn’t do anything rash again. Even if he does, I think I have a chance. I grinned, “Then I shouldn’t keep him waiting.”