And that?
That’s worse than Foxface’s teasing.
Because it means he doesn’t just see me.
He’s figuring me out.
I force my limbs to move, to break through whatever invisible force is holding me still. My entire being strains against it, my existence flickering at the edges, but whatever this is, it’s stronger.
Cassian tilts his head slightly. “You’re real.”
I hate how he says it. Not like a question. Not like a joke. But like a fact he just confirmed for himself.
That’s how I know. These two reallydosee me.
“That's impossible,” I blurt out before I can stop myself. It feels like I’m rambling to no one—just talking to Pain, like always. The only thing that ever listens.
Except this time, I’m not alone.
Two others hear me.
And they answer.
The thing they say? Yeah, I think I'd rather have the silence. At least silence is always predictable. Always constant. Always ignoring me.
But now, the silence is gone. Like it ran off and hid somewhere far, far away.
Because Foxface? He grins like I just handed him the best news of his life.
And Cassian? He scoffs at my words.
“Oh, I wouldn’t say that if I were you,” Cassian says. “After all, aren’t you just a corpse with a glowing scythe, Grim Reaper? You should know a lot’s possible.”
And even though I know I shouldn’t feel it, my heart races like it’s trying to claw its way out of my chest. Fast. Hard. Desperate. Like I’m dying all over again.
I know this feeling. Even after five years, I’d recognize it anywhere.
Panic.
Because these men aren’t just seeing me.
They’ve been waiting here for me.
And I just walked into whatever trap they set.
In all five years I’ve spent as a Grim Reaper, nothing like this has ever happened to me. Nothing in the mortal world has ever had the power to hold me in place. No human has ever been able to hear me. No one has ever seen Pain.
And never—not once—has my scythe, the very tool that guides souls to the afterlife, been visible to someone who’s still a part of the living world.
But now, all of that is happening at once. Twice over, even. It's not just one human who can see me—it's two.
“This… this can’t be happening,” I stammer, turning to Pain, desperate for some reassurance.
Pain and I are in this together—the raven and I have been entwined from the moment I became what I am. It has always seemed to know more than I do, guiding me in ways I don't fully understand.
I was once told that the raven isn’t separate from us Grim Reapers. It’s not a pet, a companion, or even a guide, though I often blame it for every pull I feel toward lost souls. Pain is something more. It is my tether, my shadow—an extension ofmyself, torn loose and given form. It exists within me, but it’s also outside me, walking beside me, binding me to my purpose.
It cannot act beyond my own abilities. It moves as I do, urging me toward what I must face, ensuring I fulfill my duty. And when I falter—when I panic as I do now—Pain feels it too.
