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miriael-the-cozy-witch · 1 year

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Fear the Reaper, Part 2

This is part 2 of how my WoL made their pact with their voidsent, and became a reaper! I hope you enjoy it! Click here for part 1! Click here for part 3! Click here for Part 4!

I didn't like Ul'dah much.

I mean... It was fine... As someone who grew up in a bloody cave, you'd think I'd love it's stonework and crowded streets. But no, for numerous reasons Ul'dah sat like an unpleasant taste in the back of my throat.

Firstly, it was hot. Stupid hot.

I flapped out the folds of my overcoat, trying to get some breathable air into it, leaning further into the shade. Even in this isolated street corner, the very air simmered in temperatures above what I could tolerate, feeling moist and sticky all over my skin.

How people lived here I had no idea.

Secondly, was the wealth.

Not that there was wealth, no, that wasn't surprising. This was the golden jewel of the desert after all. Getting rich here was something of a national pastime.

It was the division of it that didn't sit well with me.

Much like the city's walls, there was a very clear divide among people who had wealth, and those that did not.

It was a difference I recognized. Gridania wasn't always accepting to Duskwights. Once their walls were meant to keep people exactly like me out.

Thirdly, it was the site of one of my greatest failings.

The Coup in Blue, the Parting Glass, the dinner of the poisoned chalice.

That infamous night had many names, and Ul'dah was never the same after it. There were still wild conspiracy theorists in the streets to this very day, declaring that Nanamo had really died, replaced by someone in illusion magic or a long lost sister. That I really had killed the Sultana that day. That the Syndicate was really in charge of the city, using 'Nanamo' as a puppet queen.

If they'd met Nanamo since, I'd imagine they'd quickly revise their theories.

I wanted to laugh, but the memory of that night still tasted sour. Because of the scheming of this city, I'd lost one of my first friends in this life.

Papalymo.

I breathed out a heavy sigh, full of grief and longing for my mentor from so long ago, wondering what he'd think of my predicament.

Because here I was, slinking through the alleys for someone I wasn't even sure existed. 'Ul'dah' and 'Drusilla' wasn't exactly a lot to go on.

Pearl Lane was a bit quieter than Ruby Road, but not by much. Here men and women of all races eyed each other up like prize fighters. Who was a threat, who wasn't? I could almost see the silent considerations at each guardsman and mobster considered the other. Who was a rival, who was a ally, who was part of a competing crew for that contract? Who was a new arrival?

And as much as I tried to stay in the shadows, when one of their practised eyes spotted me silently evaluating them in the darkness of my shade covered corner, they very quickly looked away. All it ever took was one glance.

The ears marking me as an Elezen. The eyepatch over my left eye. The odd looking sword at my hip.

Not once did they approach me, instead usually moving to put a malm or two between me and them.

But I still didn't know what I was looking for. I writhed in the heat, cursing my luck. What was I doing here?

At least the weather made it all but impossible to consider the memory of Zenos and Fandaniel. It was hard to even think about being cold in this heat.

"Well. Fancy meeting you here."

Gods damn it, I hated when people walked in my blind side.

I turned my head up and left, and was surprised to Thancred, kneeling on the roof just above my head. I didn't even know he'd left Broken Glass. The fact that he was here beside me, of all places in the world to be, spoke of my friend's wanton to meddle.

He'd probably heard about my outburst at Estinien.

I said nothing, hoping my pained expression was doing enough of the talking.

Thancred nodded, as if I'd said something poignant, or graced him with a hello.

"Beautiful day, isn't it?" he said, raising his hand to his brow to squint down the alley.

I let out a small hushed laugh, hoping he was joking, wishing I had a bucket of water to dump over my head.

"What are you doing here Thancred?" I asked, a bit more ice in my voice than he really deserved.

"Well, since your... interesting reunion with Zenos, Urianger and I have been trying to track down an ancient Garlean order."

I felt my one eyebrow rise, since the other one was just dead muscle. That was... not the response I expected.

"Oh?"

Thancred jumped off the roof, not enough of a fall to really bother him, landing neatly just a few feet from me. The surprise of his sudden appearence still startled a few passerby, but disappeared when he leaned against the wall beside me, his eyes beginning to scan the crowd. "In helping some of the refugees at Broken Glass, a few of them made passing mention of 'the reapers in the hills.'"

My arms stiffened, my hand almost on instinct reaching for my blade, the image of a scythe cutting through the air... Reaching for Alisae and G'raha...

I shook my head free of the memory, still feeling that horrid sword leaving my rotting hands to dispel the creature that had erupted from my body.

"What's so special about these 'reapers'?" I asked, more out of the desire to get myself back in the present moment, and not remember the cold snow and dead fingers.

Thancred shrugged. "The locals said they made pacts with Voidsent for starters."

If I was tense before, I was a chain pulled taut now.

"I'm thinking that Zenos picked up a few old habits from his forebears." Thancred said it with a smile, but upon seeing my face, turned his gaze to the people passing us by, the smile slowly disappearing like a plant starved for water.

Silence stretched between us for some time. Thancred never questioned why I spoke so little. I would speak when I was good and ready, yet another artifact from growing up in the caves of Gelmorra. You only spoke when absolutely sure nothing would hear you down there. Sound bounced malms when trapped underground, so whatever you had to say had to pretty damn important.

And Thancred enjoyed the quiet, or seemed to, just as much as I did. It was one of the things I appreciated about him.

I chose my next words with care. "So... You think remains of this ancient order are... here. In Ul'dah? And that they could tell us about Zenos and his new abilities?"

He nodded, crossing his arms as his eyes continued to dart between passerby.

"Word is there's a jump in Voidsent activity outside the walls, and a new mercenary group making waves called the 'Lemures'. Doesn't sound like much, until you convert that odd word to the Garlean tongue."

His eyes finally shifted to mine, as he said his next words with gravitas.

"It means 'Spirits of the dead' in Old Garlean."

As dread pooled in my stomach, I was beginning to think I was in the right place.

"You there! You two! Yes you!"

Both me and Thancred turned in alarm to see a flustered Hyur making a beeline towards us. He looked to be an a merchant, or attendant to a greater merchant, his coat made of some heavy green fabrics of high quality.

"I'm so sorry to bother you sirs, but the pair of you look like quite a cut above the rest of these ruffians on the street, and I'm wondering if you'd be interested in making quite a bit of coin..."

I could almost feel the exasperated sigh echoing from Thancred.

I wasn't too thrilled about this either, but it was exactly the kind of request I thrived in doing. I elbowed Thancred gently.

"Don't we only have a few more days before the assault? Why don't you go back to Broken Glass, I'll take care of this and keep an eye out for your missing cult."

Thancred mouthed a silent 'thank you' before beginning to step away, but the attendant wasn't having it.

"Really? Just you? Don't get me wrong you look fearsome, but the pair-"

Thancred's laugh was boisterous and humorous as he clapped me on the shoulder.

"Oh good sir, I quite assure you, she will be all you need and more. Trust me."

The merchant looked confused, about to say something, but Thancred turned on his boot to walked down the lane. He waved over his head, his voice already distant as he said goodbye.

"See you at Broken glass Miri."

I wanted to curse him as he retreated in the direction of the aetheryte. Turning back to the merchant in annoyance, I waited for the moment of recognition. The moment where he put the pieces together what 'Miri' could possibly be short for and recognized who I was, who exactly he was about to hire.

But it didn't happen. Some people just didn't listen to the news, too willfully ignorant.

"Oh, your name is Miri? Wonderful! Please, follow me while I tell you about my employers troubles..."

It was so normal, it was nearly bland. At least normal for Ul'dah. A merchant being accosted by some thugs, some extra muscle was needed. A 'threat' of violence to offset more violence.

Tale as old as time. Not that it ever worked.

Most likely, this would turn into a small skirmish that I could handle easily. I'd done it a hundred times, and I'd do it a hundred more. Even if my opponents recognized me, they ended up assuming that despite my fame and glory, knowing I'd thrown gods into the dirt, that just because I was one woman and they were two dozen, that numbers would overcome quality.

And it never did.

I felt... better. It was good to be strong. That despite everything that had happened, everyday people would need strong protectors. That I was still me. Still undoubtedly the strongest woman in this city, if not the entire damn continent. I felt that comfort settle about my shoulders like armour.

I meet his employer, a Lalafell high merchant named Jijilyo, who for a moment wondered if I'm part of the very crew that's after him. It's only once his attendant tells him that I'm the hired help that he warms to me.

Walking behind the merchant and his retainer, I do my best to ignore both, keeping my weathered eye on the lookout for both the gang I've been hired to counteract, and the Garlean cultists.

"... unsavoury group known as the Lemures." I near stumbled half a step, suddenly latched onto Jijilyo and his attendant with my full attention.

"Their leader demands my master part with some of his considerable wealth, or... Well, I'll just tell you they call her the 'Reaper,' and leave the rest to your imagination." The attendant's speech was touched with the bite of fear, a mix of respect and terror.

It seemed Nymeia had set me on an interesting path today.

"Rumors abound of their origins. Some say they are the detritus of some barbaric nation. They flout our laws and threaten their betters with impunity." Jijilyo said with barely held disdain.

I was beginning to like these Lemure's already. I nodded along, saying nothing as we walked down the crowded Ruby Road. Locals who knew better gave us the right of way. The others who didn't got one glance from my eye before moving. Jijilyo kept talking as if he wasn't in a crowded market.

"They're led by a dead-eyed killer who draws her scythe at the smallest slight. Refuse their payments of coin, and she takes her share of your lifeblood instead. Rubbish, I say 'the Reaper' is naught but a toothless bandit."

"... Interestin' theory you have there. Care to test it?"

Where?

I dashed around in a half circle, my eye finally spotting the speaker, leaning up against the corner of a wall. I hadn't noticed her with my attention so focused on Jijilyo and his attendant. Her moment was picked perfectly, reminding me of a Scorpion in ambush, sitting in it's dark burrow waiting for it's unsuspecting prey to walk past.

For it was exactly what she'd done.

I felt the handle of my blade in my hand while Jijilyo cursed some spitting remark, but I didn't care. I'd found what I was looking for.

Thancred's cultists. Jijilyo's bandits. The name spoken in the depths of Amdapor.

Drusilla. I'm sure of it.

"Hirin' more help while our ledgers remain unbalanced? You wouldn't be tryin' to wriggle your way out of payin' us for a job well done, would you?"

That little rotten bastard. Gods, do I hate Ul'dah.

I wanted to see if I could kick Jijilyo over the city wall, but I didn't take my eyes off the woman, the unknown threat that she was.

She looked to be an older Hyur, but if she was Garlean... The circlet on her head would perfectly hide the gem that marked her people. Her clothes were purposed for long treks, but could've just as easily been tailored for the smoothness of motion required for combat.

But most terrifyingly, the scythe on her back, it's black metal a promise of carnage.

Unable to take my eye off of it, for suddenly, it felt like I was back at that damn dinner table in the tower of Babil, breathing cursed breaths with half useless lungs that wern't mine... Looking at Zenos and that cursed looking weapon on his back.

That wasn't me. I'm here. Feel the stifling heat, the familiar grasp of your sword. I'm alive. I'm alive damn it.

The oversized gardening tool on her back suggested multiple things.

It was a complicated weapon to use. I'd known it's grip ever since Fufucha had put one in my hand to learn the Forest's bounty. I'd tried using it as a weapon for a lark, and found it serviceable, but difficult to master.

But the one on this woman's back, was for one thing, and one thing only.

It's harvest was blood.

Paying attention to the conversation once again, I realized that the conversation had moved form Jijilyo's interesting take on debts payable to mercenaries to...

Me.

"Hmm. One does wonder how you found yourself with a bodyguard of such uncommon mettle."

The woman was staring at me. Her weathered gaze examining every tension of my body, and I knew she was gauging my prowess.

"Aye, not an onze of fear in that gaze, and not a mote of puffed-up arrogance, either. This lass, my dear Jijilyo, is the genuine article. What we in the mercenary trade call the 'killer instinct.'"

My good eye squinted at that word.

Oh she wanted to talk about death? I'd killed. I'd killed plenty. The bodies of dragons, the tempered, corrupted, Ascians and gods both. My blade knew the blood of many.

The woman seemed to almost smile at the expression on my face, turning one final time to Jijilyo beside me.

"How's this? For the sake of our long-standin' friendship, I'll make it simple. Allow me to take this adventurer off your hands, and the debt is forgiven."

I raised my eyebrow as Jijilyo stated some surprise at this offer. It was a good offer.

But I was beginning to think it meant I'd be paying some price in his stead.

In an instant, Jijilyo wasn't a complete idiot, the offer was taken. the merchant and his attendant put big steaps between them and the scythe weilding woman, Leaving me alone with he despite the crowds still shuffling around us.

Her smile was filled with a promise of malice. "As for you, adventurer, it seems you've been made a free agent. But if you're still inclined to put those instincts of yours to use, come and visit our headquarters in Pearl Lane." She winked, somehow threateningly.

"The door's open."

I said nothing, staring at her with my hand still ready to draw my blade as she slunk down the street, and around the corner.

Suddenly alone, both none the richer and none the wiser for my troubles, I set off to follow her.

Pearl lane was not small, nor did I have Thancred's tracking skills. I thought for a moment that I'd lost her, never to see the old woman with the scythe ever again, before a swordsman standing guard over a sturdy door caught my eye and motioned me urgently towards him.

"You're the adventurer? The one who just had a dealing with that Jijilyo character?" He looked better armed than most, a sturdy shield on his back, a sword at his hip, a cap hiding his forehead.

A Garlean.

Thancred's cultists indeed, it seemed.

I nodded.

He motioned me to the heavy door, knocking in a series of rapid fire starts, a code of some sort to whoever was inside. A moment later, and I found myself inside a small office, where the woman sat at an oversized desk, the giant scythe leaning against the high backed chair she sat on.

"Boss, the guest of honour's arrived." The guardsman beside me intoned.

I locked my gaze with the woman once again, wondering how this was going to go. I didn't even know what I was here for. All I could hope was that she had answers.

Her sly grin made me want to beat those very answers from her. Something about her... just reeked of violence and evil. As if she was a blasted voidsent herself. "Ah, I knew you wouldn't pass up my offer. Got a hunger for somethin' more tasty than a pile of coin."

The words almost seemed perfectly poised to slide like a dagger under my defences, my heart lurching in my chest with hope.

"The Champion of Eorzea herself, appearing before me. Never thought I'd see the day."

Ah.

The guardsman did a double take beside me, his hand reaching for his blade, but the woman held a hand to stop him, her gaze not leaving mine.

"Aye, I've heard all about you. It's hard not to in this line of work. The stories paint you as ferocity incarnate, a force of nature few have survived."

It sounded for a moment like a challenge. My hand griped my blade in readiness. I'd had too many tests of my skills over the years, would-be mentors assured of themselves to be my betters. But her eyes glistened with mirth.

"Peace, friend. I've no desire to put the killer to the proof personally. I don't have a death wish. You can call me-"

"Drusilla." I said quietly, the first word I'd spoken in her presence.

Silence stretched between us for a moment, but if anything, her smile got wider.

"You... know of me?" She asked, leaning forward on the table to rest her chin on her hands.

I nodded, taking a single step forward, my hand still on my blade.

"I've heard your name." I said quietly, my voice a knife through the silence. "Once." I recalled the voice in the darkness perfectly, as if it's breath was still on my skin.

She was silent, staring at me for something I didn't recognize. "Leave us." Drusilla intoned a breath later, her eyes not moving from mine, but the command obvious to who it was to.

"Boss." The guardsman nodded, before stepping out the door we'd come, leaving me alone with Drusilla.

Once the door was closed, she picked out a small black stone out of her pocket, sliding it over the desk to a rest in front of me.

A soul crystal.

It sat there ominously, with all the subtly of Dalamud falling from the sky.

"I did have a job for you in mind. But you have... somethin' you need to sort out before you do anything for me."

I didn't know what she was saying, what she was insinuating, but I took another step closer.

"What are you?" I asked, the feeling of threat still not leaving my body. The aura of her very person felt... wrong.

"A Reaper." She stated, as if this answered anything. The look of my face must've showed my confusion, because after a sigh, she explained.

"Years ago, I made a pact with a voidsent... For power. For revenge. For... all the stupid reasons someone does. All of them noble, but yet it still put me on the path of blood."

She pointed to the soulstone.

"That, is mine. It allows us to make the pact. It belonged to the grandmaster of the Lemure before me, and the grandmaster before him and so on. To pick it up, to attune with it, is to become a Reaper like me. To know the call of the void. To meld with a hunger that you can't ever separate from."

She flicked her gaze back to me, as her words settled into my bones.

"And that's just if you're made of the stuff I think you are. That's not even talking about the pact."

I took another quiet and tentative step forward. Unsure if I was stepping towards my doom.

"What is the pact?" I asked, my voice somehow not shaking despite the terror I felt in my gut.

Drusilla shrugged. "That's between you and the particular voidsent you make your pact with. Some just want to be fed the souls of your enemies. Some want to experience life here on the source. The pact gives them the gift of gab, as it were. Well, that and then some." Drusilla smiled as if I was in on some joke.

I was increasingly feeling like I was being the butt end of that joke.

"And what do you gain from a pact?" I asked, taking one more step. The stone was within reach now, I could just take it.

Drusilla's eyes clouded over, as she looked far away to something long ago.

"Power." She whispered.

I breathed in, tensing as my fingers finally left the hilt of my sword, reaching for the stone. The desire to save my world, my friends, my family... All from the madness of Zenos and the inevitability of the Final Days.

It was here for the taking.

I paused in mid-air, wondering.

Fury, is this what you want of me? Hydaelyn? Nymeia?

I asked all of my protectors, my gods, if this was what was fated for me.

The Fury, the patron I'd had since birth. I invoked her with my spear, yet she'd failed me. I'd lost an eye screaming her name bleeding in the dirt of Rhalgar's Reach.

Hydaelyn, who claimed me as her champion, despite never having made the choice to enter her service. Sometimes I felt more her tool than her child, and her silence ever since the ship entering sharlayan harbour... The secrets she still kept... It tested my patience.

Nymeia, the goddess of fate. She guided us all, did she not? What would stop her from fating me to this path, or from it? Did I really have a choice? Did it even matter?

All of this to take up my enemies bargain once more, to spite him. To adopt his weapon, take up the same bargain that he'd made, so that maybe this time, I would be strong enough to end him once and for all. And then, have be strong enough to save the gods damned world from the Final Days.

"And gods, what power you could wield, with everything you have on offer I wonder." Drusilla intoned, a hand rubbing at her chin. Seeming to speak to my exact hope as if she'd read my mind. "You could be the best of us."

My fingers were just an ilm from the stone.

My gods had no answers for me.

I brushed the face of the stone with the tip of my finger, suddenly filled with a yearning I could not deny.

I picked up the stone.

Drusilla watched me as I held it in my hand, It's metal cool in my palm, a balm against the stifling heat, my eye taking in it's black onyx, the carved symbol of yellow in it's face.

And slowly, that breath of fresh coolness settled into my skin as not my memories, but the muscle memories of a dozen or more masters of void and scythe settled into my muscles. Suddenly I could feel how my grip in holding a scythe when I'd tried using as a weapon so long ago was just wrong.

That I knew that spinning it just so would throw weight into a cut. That a wide arc was some of it's most powerful attacks. That a sudden stop and pull was violent and messy, but brutal and effective.

And that once paired with a voidsent in a pact... That sycthes were perfect for combat.

All that aether and blood spilled, was perfect food for pactmates.

Pactmates.

I shuddered as the word became familiar in my consciousness.

The coolness settled into my skin, sending a wave of goosebumps up my back, and I could've swore the cursed temperature dropped a few degrees. The heat suddenly not so stifling...

And there, just barely audible... Was a quiet whisper in my ear, the trace of teeth on my earlobe.

Good... Come back.

I looked around, trying to find the source of the whisper, a sudden lurch in the pit of my stomach pulling me towards the door. I needed to follow that feeling. It was like a slow tug across space and time. I eyed the door greedily, as if it were my next meal and I a starving pauper.

That was how needy this... this tug felt.

"That's it. I knew you had what it takes."

I turned my gaze in alarm towards Drusilla, who no longer reeked of threat. Now... She felt like a kindred spirit. A friend. I knew the movements of her body in combat as if I'd practised beside her my whole life.

Standing in a sudden rush, she did not reach for her weapon, but instead walked over to to a tall cabinet, opening it to reveal an aged and pockmarked scythe, it's age not betraying it's deadliness.

"This was my grandfathers. And now, it is yours." She plucked it from it's hanger, the weight while looking stupidly heavy, looked light as my own blade in her grip. She held it out to me, as if a present on my name day.

The soul crystal was still in my hand, and much like the others in my collection, now felt... a part of me. Separating from it felt like throwing away a limb. I pocketed it for now, determined to find a spot for it in a necklace or bracelet, now looking towards my new weapon with excitement and dread.

"Go. Find your avatar, make your pact, and then come back to me." Drusilla said quietly, placing the scythe into my waiting hands with all the grace of a mother placing a untenable burden onto her child.

Little did I know how true that metaphor would come to be.

#ffxiv #ffxiv oc #ffxiv wol #short fiction #me #my writing #voidsent #the killer instinct #not a great quest so I'm here to spice it up #I'm so excited for the next part you have no idea #thancred waters #nearly forgot he's in this #drusilla

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