Look at the time it's taken me to get away from what was said
I'll never leave, I'll always love
Compared to fixing the Realm of the Dead, hopping between Life and Death to find a magical scythe seemed like a piece of cake.
Aura had shrugged off Brock’s qualms about her simply strolling out of Angel Academy and announcing to the world that there was a new Guide of the Dead. She’d been a household name her entire life and knew how to handle the fame. Brock did have one argument which made sense, though.
“Maybe we should figure out what the plan is before we go out and tell everyone that we’re going to fix everything,” he cautioned.
Aura agreed. Unfortunately, coming up with a plan to fix the Realm of the Dead was impossible. Without Kelise there to tell them, they couldn’t find out what she’d done to take everyone’s memories away. All of her lieutenants had been sent to oblivion, so it wasn’t like they had any witnesses either. Not only that, while Aura technically had the staff, she had no idea how to use it. Changing the colour of her clothes was one thing. Restoring memories of life to billions of deceased souls across an ever-expanding realm was another.
Brock suggested they try the library. Aura agreed again, but half-heartedly. Kelise was too clever to just overlook a public book which detailed out her entire plan and how to stop it, assuming such a thing even existed.
“Go on then, go.” Brock said as he wiped the grey blood from his face with a handkerchief he’d found in one of the teachers’ desks. Aura shot him a puzzled look. “Go back to the Realm of the Living,” he smiled. “Go on, shoo. I know you want to, and you’re no use here until you can walk around without being… um… you know, so obvious.”
He gestured to her. Aura lifted her eyebrows and spun slowly in a circle like she was a catwalk model. Her ice-blue death-robes fanned out like a princess dress.
“So obviously the Guide of the Dead, you mean?” She grinned. Brock rolled his eyes.
“Off with you!” He made the shooing gesture with his hands, gave her a quick hug and left her to it. Aura flexed her fingers.
“Let’s give this a go, then,” she told her scythe.
She swung it experimentally. As it moved through the air, it made a groaning noise; she could almost imagine it saying, amateur hour! She’d never channelled power from a magical object before - but really, after divinity, how hard could it be? Aura focused on teleporting the way she would have done when she was alive, but nothing happened. She tried creating a rip in the fabric of space and time which could transport her across realms. Nope.
Wrinkling her nose as if there was a bad smell under it, Aura glared at the scythe. Wasn’t there an owner’s manual for this thing?
Maybe she was going about it the wrong way. Maybe she needed to stop thinking of the power as hers, and rather as a tool she could utilise. She swung the scythe thoughtfully again before gripping it carefully with both hands and holding it out in front of her. As she moved it, she imagined she was slicing a hole in the fabric of the universe using the blade. She felt the scythe shudder in her hands and had to swallow her excitement as a swirling black mass appeared in the blade’s trail. A death portal. Her very first one.
Gleefully, Aura clutched the scythe to her chest and jumped through it, landing softly on the other side. Probably because it had been made with the correct tools, this death portal was smoother than any one she had ever used before. It was like teleporting, or stepping through an open doorway. As with the last times she had travelled, there was no mark left on the other side: it closed immediately as she stepped through it, making it look as though she had appeared out of thin air.
The warm colours of the room where the portal had deposited her leapt out immediately, soft and subtle. Yellow flames roared in a huge fireplace, warming the five occupants sat in high-backed chairs around a large oak dining table. The smell of fresh, hot food - food of the living - clung to the air. The death portal had dropped Aura into the one shadowy area of the room in a far corner, out of the eyeline of everyone present, so none of them noticed her immediately. Arthur, Nimueh, Tristan and Mordred were listening to Morgana recount the events of the day, the latter three hanging off every word. Aura smiled slightly as she heard her name.
She hesitated for a second, but there really was no non-creepy way of doing this. Holding the scythe loosely and lowered in one hand, her blue hood swept back, Aura stepped out of the shadows and crossed the distance between them. Morgana’s back was to her; she touched her shoulder gently to get her attention.
Closer now, Aura scanned their faces with a touch of an emotion she couldn’t place. She’d only seen Mordred on the odd occasion before, but he looked taller now, broader-shouldered, the puppy-roundness gone from his face. Tristan - was that Tristan? - had grown up. Nimueh had more grey hairs and Arthur had more lines in his face.
Silence had fallen. Aura had come here not really knowing what she wanted from this encounter, but really there was only one thing to say.
“Thank you.” She wrapped her arms around Morgana’s neck, easily able to reach since the latter was sitting. She held her for a moment before releasing her and turning to Arthur. “And you. Thank you.” No way he was escaping a hug either. She held him for a little longer. “Is Thoth okay? Is he happy?”
me and you, we are ghosts
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