Guul'Zaroth Epilogue - Fate of All

I

With weak, desperate beats of her wings, Laurelei fluttered over the forest. Pain and exhaustion wracked her body and it was all she could do to keep herself aloft. Her flight was laboured barely sustained. Dipping down further, and flailing her wings, she fought with all her might to stay in the air. And just as she felt the last dredges of her magic abandoning her, she found herself above Ulfenmoor and her goal was in sight.

Swooping low, she dove toward Silvercoat Hall.

Over the gate and toward the grounds, only scant feet above the earth, Laurelei's magic gave out and she reverted to her human form. The snow broke her fall only enough that she managed to remain conscious. "Ughhh," she ground. She pushed against the ground with all the might in her arms and lifted her head. She lay prone, several metres from the door and the sun hovered on the edge of the horizon.

Beams of searing light were growing ever nearer and to even look upon the sun in this half state left her stricken with terror. A fear of suffering and of death. A fear of her inevitable fate if she did not move at this very moment. She could already feel her skin getting hot, her head aching painfully and sweat forming in spite of the cold winter. She tried to stand, but her legs wouldn't permit it. And so, she crawled. On her elbows she pushed herself forward, dragging her ornate dress through the dirt.

How low she had fallen, she thought to herself. In only a few months, she had gone from dining in the royal palace, to crawling through the mud. But her vanity and her ego were overshadowed by her ambition. Despair would be overtaken by drive. She would not perish now, for she knew the consequences.

The princess clambered toward the stairs and pulled herself toward the door, hand over hand. Every inch she hauled herself weighed heavily on her muscles. Ragged breaths she took between sobs. The ache in her limbs, the icy sting in her lungs and the firey pain in her head. It clawed at her resolve, ripping away shreds of it with every motion made. Finally, she sprawled across the front porch and lay her head on the top step, face still wet with tears and fresh ones yet forming. The sun's rays encoached further, reaching for her person with only scant inches separating them. Its fire would be upon her at any moment now, scorching her flesh and leaving her a pile of ash.

With  fangs clenched, she pushed with every ounce of will and reached toward the door. She could feel it, in moments she would lose consciousness. Even holding up her arm in this state was a mighty feat. Her vision was already dipping into a black haze. 'Tap, tap, tap!' she rapped on the door, barely audible, before slumping down to the stairs and fading away entirely.

II

Rolf was flat on his back, atop the river of souls. He stared into the empty white expanse of the world and felt the blood slowly trickle out of his body. He had lain on the ground for several hours now, his consciousness fading in and out.

In one moment, the sky above was empty. In the next, his vision clouded over and he found himself staring up at the spectre of death itself. The reaper hovered toward him, skeletal hand outstretched.

He didn't scream nor panic. He didn't resist or struggle. He couldn't if he tried. "So, this is how it ends," he said to himself. "Sorry. Dad, Laurelei, Lavinia. Edwin, Karina, Miles, Nigel. A lot of people were counting on me and... This is it. I failed them all."

The chill touch of the reaper grasped his shoulder and Rolf's vision went black. All at once, everything was gone.

He wallowed in an empty, dreamlike blackness and embraced rest for the first time in months. Was sleep always so peaceful, he wondered.

Just as fast as the world around him disappeared, he felt himself draw another breath. A sharp gasp, his eyes flew open and he sat straight up. Almost immediately he could feel a great change in his body. The pain, the weakness, it had vanished. His hands scoured his frame, feeling for scars, wounds or even bandages. They were gone. Every wound he suffered since stepping foot in the Afterlife had miraculously vanished.

"What the hell?" he breathed. He even lifted his shirt up over his head to look upon his torso. The scars and wounds he bore were none but those that had become familiar to him. Even absent was the blood that stained his every inch.

Quickly redressing, he looked around at his surroundings and found himself somewhere else entirely. A beautiful garden filled with fruit-bearing trees, pleasant streams and huge swaths of red roses. Roses everywhere, all around him a field of rose bushes, save for one, small, circular clearing where he sat alone, save for a swarm of white moths, swirling in the sky above.

"Where am I?"

"The garden of death," replied a strange voice. It was a shrill, warbling noise that came from below. Suddenly, a small white flower bud sprouted from the ground.

Rolf leaned down close, getting a better look. It was about ten centimetres tall and had little thorns on its stem. Then, it splayed its petals to reveal a skull inside.

"Whoa!" Rolf cried as he scrambled back.

The little flower suddenly grew exponentially, snaking forward and expanding until its skull was nearly human sized. It was squat and arrow shaped with fanged teeth and narrow eyes.

"What the hell are you!?"

"I am called Death, and I'm your new best friend," it said as it slithered closer and hovered only inches from his nose.

"How do you figure that?" he said as he pushed himself up.

The flower creature followed, darting after him and coiling around to cut him off. "To start, I'm a demon. And you? You've got one inside of you."

Rolf scowled at the thing and tried to shoo it away but to no avail. "What are you talking about?"

"Yes, just a little tiny piece. A shard, trapped in your soul. A shard of Fury. But let's not get sidetracked. My reapers brought you here for a reason. Care to make a deal?"

END