Today, Azaria saw thirteen thousand people die.
This wasn’t unusual for Azaria. Meeting the dead was part of her duty. Thirteen thousand deceased souls were far from uncommon. In the following week, she would meet another hundred thousand souls. And in a year, nearly five million would have felt her embrace.
Each soul passed in a variety of ways. Many of them died in their sleep. Some died from an illness. Others were beaten, stabbed, burned, or drowned. Some wished to meet death head-on. Hundreds were killed in far-off lands fighting gory battles, their final deeds performed in a patriotic fervor. Dozens offered themselves up to death, finding no hope left in the living world.
Most of them had friends and family. They would mourn the dead, gather in feasts held in their name, or cry as they lay their bodies to rest. Azaria wondered what that felt like.
But she would pay no attention to these feelings. The gods focus on their duties, dismissing all outside their domain. And the Reapers were the most dutiful of them all.
Azaria traversed the world as an invisible presence. Once a soul was prepared to depart, she materialized in the invisible realm, projecting herself as an imposing yet comforting human form. On this day, she appeared in a small cottage. The room was violently disorganized, filled with apparatuses, instruments, and machines. At the end of the room, an elderly man sat in a chair, head slumped over a desk. His eyes were closed, and his face was pale. Azaria stood over him as he took his last breath.
His soul hovered over his body. His eyes widened, and he flailed his arms. Azaria placed her hand on his shoulder and steadied him. He looked up at her, processing the imposing deity before him. She looked human but much taller. Her head nearly scraped the roof. She had at least a dozen eyes, but not on her face. They were embedded into a ring that hovered around her head. Its gold color contrasted with the deep tones of her skin. Feathered wings spanning twice the length of her arms melded into her black cloak.
“Mr. Stephon?” She said.
“Yes?”
“You have died. I am a Reaper and have come to collect your soul. I will open a door to the place between life and death. From there, you must find your way to your next life.” Azaria recited her speech perfectly. She had repeated this information innumerable times before.
“I’m dead?” Mr. Stephon’s voice shook.
“Yes, sir.”
“Oh…” He looked down at the floor, quivering.
Azaria was silently thankful for Mr. Stephon’s relatively subdued reaction. She placed a gentle hand on Mr. Stephon’s shoulder. “It will be all right, sir. Death happens to everyone.”
“I suppose so.” He looked around his room, catching a glimpse of his body. He tried his best to avoid looking at it.
“Why do I feel so tired?” He asked.
“Newly deceased souls tend to feel tired. It is completely normal.”
His eyes struggled to remain open. He now seemed to be in a daze.
“Are you ready to go?”
He nodded.
Azaria reached out and opened a door to the space between life and death. There was no physical opening, no physical passageway. The space in front of the pair became distorted and foggy.
“Go on, Mr. Stephon.”
The old man took a sleepy step forward. As he walked, his form slowly disappeared through the distorted doorway. Azaria prepared to dispel her visible form and move on to the next soul.
“When will he return?”
The voice surprised Azaria. Her eyes spun on its ring, searching for the source.
“Who said that?”
“I did. When will he return?”
Despite her efforts, Azaria could not find the voice’s origin. Even if she could not physically see someone, she had an innate awareness of every spirit around her. The voice came from a collection of machines leaning against the wall, but no one was there.
“Where are you?”
“You are facing me.”
Azaria finally noticed. When the voice spoke, one of the machines lit up. She had heard tell of mortal devices designed to record and play audio. Could this be one of them?
She walked up to the machine and examined it. It looked like a statue of a human. It was made of bronze and copper plating and housed ticking gears. It had a simple face, two holes for the eyes, and a slit for a mouth. The eyes held small light bulbs glowing a soft, warm yellow.
“What are you?” Azaria asked.
“I am an automaton created by Mr. Stephon. I am named Seer.”
“Seer?”
“Yes. I was given the name due to my unique attributes. I can see into the invisible spiritual realm and speak with its denizens.”
Azaria examined Seer. This machine was definitely talking to her. It had a face, a voice, and an awareness of itself. Yet, it had no soul.
“How interesting.” Azaria said.
“It is. Now, where has my master gone? I am aware that his spirit has vacated his body. Is there a set date for his return?”
Azaria was initially unsure of what to do. She had never spoken to a living being before, if you could even call Seer “living.” This level of interaction between a physical creature and a Reaper was unprecedented. Let alone one who was completely unaware of the concept of death.
If she had asked other deities for advice, they would have told her to leave right then and there. “Only certain deities should communicate with mortals.” They would say, “It is best to remain within your vocation.”
However, for the first time, Azaria’s curiosity overwhelmed her.
“Your creator,” She began, “Has died. Meaning he cannot come back. His spirit has left this world and will not return.”
“I see. I was unfamiliar with this concept. Thank you for informing me.”
“It’s no problem.”
The automaton stood up. Parts from other machines clanked on the ground as he moved. “Do you have any orders for me?”
Azaria was unsure of what to do now. Seer fascinated her, but she was at a loss for words. She wondered if she should ask it questions or give it some form of guidance. This whole situation was far out of her comfort zone.
She sensed death encroaching upon another soul. For a moment, she had forgotten about her duties. She had never done so before.
“I am sorry, machine. I am needed elsewhere.”
“Understood.” Seer said, “It was a pleasure talking to you.”
“You as well.”
With that, Azaria dissipated her form and vanished from Seer’s view.
Years passed in the mortal realm. Azaria went about her duty. Occasionally, she thought about the strange machine she had met. Had it stayed in that old cabin? Had it wandered off into the surrounding forest? Though questions permeated her mind, she could not dwell on the topic for long. She could not be distracted.
She finished delivering a soul, reaped from a sick man lying in a bed. A chill overcame the stone building as nurses rushed around the body. Azaria stood over them. Invisible to the living eye but present all the same. Her eyes glanced around the room. There were often multiple deaths at a time in these houses of healing. The god Salute’s work was flawed in mortal hands.
She gazed out at an open window. A reflection of light caught her attention. Walking across the paved roads, carrying a large bag full of food, was Seer. He looked the same, but he was wearing a simple tunic. He was following a short, stout man. A halfling, most likely. The crowd around him shot odd glances at the machine. Many looked at him with disgust, others with a hint of fear.
Azaria’s eyes shifted toward the sick souls upon their beds. She glanced back at the machine. She wondered if she would ever get another opportunity to see him again.
Perhaps these souls can wait.
Azaria spread her wings and flew out the window. She hovered in the air, quietly observing Seer.
The halfling turned a corner and entered a store. He motioned for Seer to wait by the door. Azaria took her chance. She swooped down near the ground and perched near the automaton.
Azaria cleared her throat, “Hello, Seer.”
Seer glanced over, “Hello, Reaper! It has been a while. What brings you here?”
“I was reaping a soul.” She pointed toward the hospital behind her.
There was a moment of silence. Azaria couldn’t remember the last time she had a non-duty-related conversation with someone. How do these work again?
“You have not changed much.” Seer said.
“Oh, I suppose I haven’t. You’ve changed quite a bit.”
“Have I?”
“Definitely. For one, you wear clothes now. You also seem to be following someone.” She peered through the shop window. The halfling was making pleasant conversation with the shopkeeper.
“Oh yes, that’s Mr. Arwilder. He took me in when I came into town. He has a fascination with strange commodities like myself. Yet, he treats me like family.”
Azaria continued to watch Mr. Arwilder. She thought he looked very kind.
“We’re quite a long way from that cottage. How did you end up out here?” Azaria asked.
“It’s a long story.” Seer said.
“After you left, I remained where I was for months. Eventually, I explored the cottage, examining my creator's other inventions. I read his books, looked through his sketches, and examined his wardrobe. I was designed with a desire to receive instructions, but in that lonely house, I would never have any. So, I decided to leave the cabin and explore the outside world in search of a task.”
“For weeks, I traversed the forest and grasslands. I discovered many fascinating things. I spent my time observing the animals and watching the slow development of plants. I encountered many spirits, though few were interested in conversing with me. Eventually, I came across a small town. This town's residents were hesitant to interact with me. Many grew fearful and attacked me. They drove me out of their village. When I found a new village, the same thing occurred. It occurred again and again. However, upon entering this town, the first person I met was Mr. Arwilder. He calmed the fear of the townsfolk and allowed me to stay in his home. While the other denizens of this village still look at me with suspicion, I now have a home.”
Once Seer finished, Azaria noticed the passing townsfolk’s faces.
“They do look at you strangely.” She said.
“From their perspectives, I am talking to nothing. I am sure that does not help.”
Azaria wondered, does everyone else believe Seer to be mad? Do they see him as a person or just a broken mechanism?
Does she see Seer as a person?
Azaria hadn’t considered it until then, but she treated Seer like a human. She knew very well that he was artificial, a soulless automaton, yet it was hard not to see him as sentient.
Seer interrupted Azaria’s contemplation. “Would you like to see the Arwilder’s home?”
“I'm not sure. I’ve never been to someone's house outside of duty before.”
“I think it will be all right. I can tell Mr. Arwilder all about you. He's fascinated with the spiritual. Mrs. Arwilder may be a harder sell, but she’ll come around.”
Azaria considered it for a moment, but then the panging sensation of death overcame her again.
“I am sorry, Seer, but I must go.”
“I understand. Will I see you again?”
Azaria hesitated for a moment, “Yes if I am able. I did enjoy our conversation.”
“I, as well. It was good to see you.”
“You as well.”
As Azaria dispelled her form, Mr. Arwilder came out of the shop. “Who were you talking to?” he asked Seer.
“An old friend.”
Azaria couldn’t help but smile.
Weeks turned into months. Months turned into years. Seer never left Azaria’s thoughts. He was unlike anything she had ever encountered. Whenever a death occurred in his town, Azaria would take the opportunity to visit Seer. Their conversations grew in length and scope.
As the years passed, Seer continued to change. His speech refined, his mannerisms adapted, and his questions increased. Azaria scarcely knew how to answer his questions.
“What happens to the dead?” He asked one night. The stars stretched for eternity overhead, and the moon shone brightly upon the town. The goddess Nos’ work was gorgeous, as always.
Azaria pondered on how to phrase her response.
“Well, my job is to bring them to the place between life and death. A sort of ‘world between worlds.’ If I do not, they will end up as lost souls.”
“And what do they do from there?”
“It's rather complicated. There are many fates for the souls of the dead.”
“Like what?”
“I am not entirely sure.”
Seer looked at her. “Not sure? Isn’t this part of your duty?”
“No, there is no reason for me to enter the world between worlds. My duty with souls ends at their transportation. Anything after that is outside of my domain.”
“Why is that?”
“Why?”
“Yes, why?”
“Because it is what I am called to do.”
“Called by whom?”
The question surprised Azaria. “I don’t think there is a whom. A long time ago, I woke up, and I knew deep within myself that I was called to transport the souls of mortals. That was that.”
“And you never wondered why?”
“I don’t see any reason to. This is the case with all deities. We simply are, and we simply must.”
“That’s strange.”
“You're one to talk about being strange!” Azaria chuckled.
There were a few moments of silence.
“Azaria.”
“Yes?”
“Will you transport my soul when I die?”
Azaria remained silent. She attempted to keep her facial expression neutral, but inside, she felt her heart drop to the pit of her stomach. Seer has no soul. Does he not know this? Why would he? Everyone else does; of course, he would assume he had one, too.
But he doesn’t.
Azaria had no idea what would happen to him after he died. It might be nothing, or it could be something entirely out of the realm of her imagination. Out of the realm of a death god.
Azaria took a deep breath. “Seer, I—”
A sensation overtook the goddess. Death was approaching the village.
“I… Must go.” She stammered.
Seer seemed disappointed. “Will I see you again?”
“Of course.” She said.
She vanished.
It was weeks until Azaria met Seer again, as her time in the village was tireless. A plague had swept through the countryside and had begun to spread from door to door in Seer’s town. It was a plague like none had seen in centuries. Nearly a third of the town’s population were struck by the disease. Azaria caught herself cursing the god Sâl and whatever devilish craftsmanship he had put into this illness. But, since when had she cared about the number of dead? She shook off the feeling and continued her duty.
She came upon a single house. A house just like the many others among the crowded village streets. She crept inside and headed toward the master bedroom. The presence of death grew stronger throughout the home. A couple lay huddled in their bed. They were pale white and sickly thin. They shivered even under their heavy blankets. Azaria stood over them as they took their last breaths, and their souls rose above their bodies. A look of relief fell upon their sleeping ghostly faces. She took their hands in hers and began to open a doorway into the world between worlds.
“Azaria?”
Azaria’s eyes turned on their ring. Her stomach churned. It was Seer.
“Sir… Ma’am… are you…” He looked between the souls and the bodies in the beds.
Azaria studied their faces for the first time. It was Mr. and Mrs. Arwilder.
“Oh gods, Seer I—”
“Put them back.”
“Seer, I can’t do that.”
“Return their souls. Place them back into their bodies.” Seer’s voice began to rise.
“Seer. They are dead. They couldn’t go back even if I tried.”
“Try! At least try!”
Crying filled the room. A small cot in the corner of the bedroom gently rocked with the sound. Azaria stared at it with horror.
Seer went to the cot and picked up an infant. He placed the baby in his arms and gently rocked it, shushing it.
“I didn’t know.”
“How could you? You never bothered to get to know them.” Seer hissed.
“I did not cause their deaths, Seer. Besides, they wouldn’t have been able to talk to me. You know that.”
“I could’ve talked to them for you!”
The baby began to cry again.
“Talking to mortals is outside of my vocation.”
“Yet you talk to me.”
Azaria snapped, “You’re not a mortal! You’re barely even alive!”
Silence.
Seer stared at Azaria. His face plate showed no emotion, but Azaria could feel his rage brewing.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t—”
“Go with them.”
“What?”
“Go with them into the place between life and death. At least do that. Please. Tell me what you find. Tell me that they’ll be all right. Go and tread where none of them can return from.”
Azaria stared blankly.
“Please.”
She closed her eyes.
“Okay.”
She turned and opened a door. The space in front of her became wavy and distorted. With the Arwilder’s souls in hand, she walked through for the first time.
She stepped into an inky blackness. Space stretched for infinity in all directions. This space was not void. No, it was not empty. It was full. It was filled with everything.
Behind her, a bright glow emanated from a pulsating orb of trillions of smaller particles. Somehow, she knew that this was the world. In front of her was a sea of souls. The souls of every type of human, tall-men, elves, dwarves, and halflings, floated like a river into a vast luminescent sea. They faded off into the horizon and stretched on into the next world.
For the first time, tears fell from Azaria’s many eyes. She let go of the Arwilder’s hands, and they floated toward the river of souls.
Then, It came.
A giant red creature swam through the inky black everything. It headed straight for the sea of souls. It opened Its jaw wide, wider, and yet wider. The Arwilders and a million other souls were consumed in an instant. The light of the remaining souls flickered, and they swam, panicked in all directions.
The giant thing swallowed, and It grinned—a grin of rancid malice.
Azaria was frozen in terror. The thing, this indescribable but disgustingly red thing of a trillion different forms, broke her. She felt fears she had never comprehended.
She felt mortal.
Then It turned, and It looked at Azaria. Azaria, who was but a speck compared to the size of the thing. Its thoughts radiated throughout the inky black everything, and she felt It say to her…
“Well done.”
Without hesitation, Azaria opened a door to the living world and ran inside.
She appeared back through the doorway in the master bedroom. She collapsed before Seer.
“Azaria! What did you see?
Azaria sobbed.
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” She repeated the apology over and over.
Seer said nothing. He stared down at Azaria. The baby continued to cry.
Years passed, and the plague continued. The town requested aid from the state, but it never came.
The disease, with its tinge of rancid malice, came upon Seer’s home once again. It took the baby. Azaria appeared before the girl as her soul separated from her body. Seer didn’t look at her. He sat quietly in the corner, looking at the floor. He slowly stood up and walked out the door. He was never seen in that town again.
Azaria looked at the soul of the little girl. Her eyes were closed, and her face was peaceful. She did not bring her to the world between worlds. She couldn’t do that to her. She couldn’t leave her with that thing.
She dissipated her form and brought the girl with her. They reappeared on a beach far away from the village. She sat the little girl down in the sand. Here, it would be sweet and calm. Nothing could hurt her. She was already dead.
From then on, Azaria never took another soul to the world between worlds. She couldn’t bring herself to do it. She would still visit the dead. She would comfort them in the ways she could, but she would not bring them anywhere. The world became filled with wandering souls. And while some caused trouble for the living, Azaria found this to be a better fate than whatever awaited them between life and death.
Years passed. Decades followed. Azaria was in a forest. In the distance, she saw a cottage. Through the window, she saw an automaton.
He had changed much with age. His clothes were worn, his skin had rusted, and he was covered in dents. There was a layer of dirt on him. Perhaps he had been gardening. Azaria took a deep, shaky breath. She walked into the cabin.
“Hello, Seer.”
Seer looked up. “Hello, Azaria.”
There was a moment of silence.
“I like what you have done with the place.” Azaria said. Seer had cleaned up the cottage. He organized his creator's old machinery and repaired his over-stocked bookshelf.
“Thank you.” Seer said.
Another silence.
“Seer, I—”
“I’m dying, Azaria.”
Azaria felt her stomach churn. “What? How?”
He pulled out a book from the shelf. He turned to a page with a diagram of him. Each of his parts were labeled. He pointed to a small mechanism on his back. “This part gives me power. It's what allows me to move, to talk, and to think. Without it, all those mechanisms shut down. And now, it’s failing.”
“Can't you have it replaced?”
“Even if I could, I wouldn’t want to. If it was removed for even a moment, the processes that keep my mind active would cease. I would lose my memory. I would lose my personality. I would lose me. Either way, I die.”
“How long do you have?”
“I might not last the night.”
Azaria was overcome with dread.
“Seer, I have to tell you something.”
“Go on.”
Azaria swallowed and took a deep breath. “You don’t have a soul.”
“I know.”
She stared, stunned. “You do?”
“I've known for a long time. I might have always known.”
Azaria sighed. “I don’t know what's going to happen to you when you die. I don’t know what you will experience or if you will experience anything at all.”
Seer nodded.
“Are you worried?”
“I’m terrified.”
Tears began to well up in Azaria’s eyes.
“But,” Seer continued, “It’s pointless. I'm barely even alive.”
“No. No, don’t say that. I'm sorry.”
“Sorry for what?”
“For saying you aren’t alive. You are. You're just as alive as anyone. You might not have a soul, but there is something in you. I don’t know if it is some type of soul I can’t sense or some other thing I can't comprehend, but you are alive.”
Seer looked at the floor. His voice shook. “I don’t want to die.”
“I know. I’m sorry.”
She sat down on the bench.
“Ever since I visited the place between life and death, I’ve reconsidered my duties. Before, my duty was irrefutable. It seemed like a natural part of the world, my part to play in this baffling mechanism called existence. But what I saw in there… That’s not how it should be. There is something wrong with the world. Something wrong with death.”
She looked up at Seer. “I made fun of you for questioning things when I should have been the one asking questions. There was a time when I believed my purpose was to comfort the dead, not simply lead them to the beyond. I don’t know where, when, or how I forgot that, but I did. You helped me remember.”
“I did?”
Azaria nodded. “Your life was influential. Even on the dead.”
Seer walked over and sat next to Azaria.
“Will you stay with me until I go?”
Azaria nodded.
They sat there on that bench for hours.
Day turned to night. Azaria put her hand on Seer’s. Though she was a spirit and could not touch the material, she swore she could feel his hand, a warm metallic sensation.
“Will I see you again?” Seer asked.
“Of course.”
After a few moments, there was silence. Azaria looked over at Seer. His head was slumped down, and there was no light in his eyes.
Tears streamed down Azaria’s face. She had never mourned before.
She kissed his cheek.
“Goodbye.”
She disappeared.