Death

She was born to be a hero, she just knew it. The problem was she just hadn't found out how.

It started with a summoning spell she'd bought off a shady pearlcatcher behind the marketplace. He' promised her it would bring her to her destiny. So she paid him and fled to the deepest parts of the Driftwood Drag. The spell seemed simple enough, but she was hesitant to try magic near other lairs after the noodle incident.

She didn't see the nest until after the incantation finished, but the spell didn't seem like it had worked anyway, so she shrugged and flew off to find shelter. When the storm kicked up a few days later, she wasn't sure if it was natural or somehow related to her attempts at magic so just as a safety precaution she flew off to check on the young fae she'd seen near the nest.

The air smelled of madness and magic and despair. The fae lay in a soft pile of blankets and leaves, bound in bandages and splints, muttering and crying. Nearer to the small pond were two others, a coatl and something that might have once been a dragon. The coatl gasped raggedly when she spotted the small nocturne in the trees, "Please ... help us ....” but the smaller dragon sat, frozen.

Hours passed, she watched the coatl try to work the ritual to the end through faltering strength. Finally, the coatl scratched 4 words into the mud and collapsed, barely breathing. The young nocturne gathered her courage and flitted down beside the dying dragon and read the words aloud. There was a great silence and all went dark. A voice enveloped the nocturne, ringing through every fiber of her being down to her very soul. Shadowbinder spoke.

“Why have you dared disturb me?”

“Please, please, make it right. I'm sorry I'm sorry, it's all my fault,” the nocturne sobbed.
“What will you give in return? Your mistakes have taken so much from others, what will you offer that could balance this cost? “
“Anything, everything. Just make it right.”
Shadowbinder chuckled, low and raw and primal. “I will take everything, in the end. I can restore them, but they will not be the same. I can heal their bodies, but their minds are Shade-touched and beyond even my help. If I do this, you must stay with them. If I do this you must tell them no hatchling born of this clan can ever stay, because of you.”
“Yes.”


The nocturne opened her eyes, blinking against the soft light of the glowing fungi. “H-hello? Are you awake then?” the coatl hovered over her. Behind her sat another nocturne that bore the same coloration and markings as the small fae that was here before. “I'm Sybil, this is Gytha. Who are you? “ but before the nocturne could speak the one called Gytha giggled and said “I know who you are. You are Death. You bring pain and peace in your wake.”


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art by Zexeos