Bronwyn

I gazed out distantly at the rippling, crystal clear lake with my sharp, dark blue optics. The moon was gleaming, like a silver ribbon it was reflected on the water and my eyes were swiftly drawn to it and the eyelids fluttered further apart in awe of the tremendous view. It's beautiful. It's opulent, it's beautiful, it's stunning...it's a thief. It has stolen my breath and I am standing there silent and still when I finally remember to breathe again.

"Bryn!" A sharp voice rang in my eyes but I was oblivious. The sight was so captivating and so appealing, it had me frozen. I was frozen and focused but the voice continued to call. "Bryn! For heaven's sake Browyn!" At the sound of my full name, my title and my honour my head snapped suddenly drawn back to reality. The painting was beautiful but my name was an order I couldn't disobey. I turned my body and looked for my commander.

"Bryn..." The voice panted as they stilled to a stop in front of me, their body doubled over and weak. The voice is a human. My eyes narrowed a little and I held their nervous gaze with a firm, strong one and they stood up and tall.

"Who are you?" I enquired turning my back to the landscape painting I had moments ago been admiring. I looked at them curiously but their face meant nothing to me. The voice- the human, had a shock of black hair and angular green eyes. She was like a cat. She reminded me of my cat.

"I'm Bast but your presence is required..." The human panted and I laughed to myself.

"Bast? As in Bastet? The Egyptian goddess of cats? How ironic," Bast looked at my amused expression with annoyed one, so I have a heavy sigh and shrugged standing up to my full height and pushing my hair out my face.

"What do you want Bast? Where is my presence required?" I asked tiredly examining my moon blue nails like an ignorant teenager. There's a point, am I a teenager? I certainly look like a teenager, I was a teenager then...but now? Six hundred and seventeen years on? Am I a teenager? The answer is probably no but I can pretend to be, I like to play pretend.

Like how an orphan can pretend to have parents and a little girl can dream of having a unicorn. I can pretend to be a human teenager- just like her, just like Bast.

"The Resistance Ma'am, General Carbon requires your attention," Bast states starting to regain a typical skin tone and her heart adopting a calmer pace.

"Why?" I asked bluntly, fluttering my fingers between each other before unfolding my hand into a clean stretch of skin and pocketing it in my skinny jeans.

"It's important Ma'am, they couldn't tell me," Bast says formally finally standing at her full height of maybe 5,2. I'd guess 5,2 anyway but considering I'm 5,6...it's fun to watch her cower in my shadow.

"Then fuck it. I do not attend mysterious meetings without a good reason as to why they need my attendance," I stated simply before spinning on my heel and starting to walk away by eyes taking one more longing glance at the painting but then I felt something cold and heavy on my bony, dead shoulder.

"Ma'am, you have to attend," Bast urged trying to turn me around but she was far too weak, I stood my ground and didn't move.

"Why?" I repeated growing increasingly bored of Bast and her pathetic pleas.

"Johnny is dead," Bast said with a trembling voice. I sighed and shook my head and walked away.

"Well find another Reaper because I'm not bringing him back," Bast's eyes became moist and something wet stained her cheek red. What was this girl doing? Why were her lips twitching in misery and her eyes leaking? She looked weak. She looked human.

She didn't remind me of the agile, intelligent and independent creature I call a cat. She didn't remind me of the goddess to whom my mother had prayed.

She reminded me of a waterfall, of rivers and oceans stubbornly slapping against sand and being pulled away again by the tide. I looked at her with a blank face and then away.

"What is this substance leaking from your eyes?" I asked. I whipped my finger along her cheek and on the tip of my nail was wet, a salty substance that was cold and depressing.

"It is a tear ma'am," Bast looked sad but then confused. "How do you not know what is a tear?" She asked me and I glared at her.

"I have never leaked such a thing myself..." I mumbled and Bast nodded limply.

"Then you are strong Ma'am but I beg you please bring back my baby boy, I am only seventeen to young to have baby whisked away, Johnny had a good heart and he never got to show it to the wor-," I'd waved my hand and I was shouting at her sharply.

"Silence!"

Bast obeyed and became wordless as I shook my head in thought. I was the only one in the world who could find her son but something is telling me not too. A sixth sense if you like and it's telling me saving Johnny would be wrong that its be a bad choice and that means I shall not save the dead boy for we are better of with him dead.

"The child had to die Bast, now leave me alone," Bast scurried to her feet fear, dread and the pieces of her broken soul being constantly projected through her shattered feline eyes.

God, I hate my job.

Most people would consider a gift, a miracle and a pleasure to be able to raise the dead as the living but it is not a gift at all. It is awful! I am the only one with the power to do this permanently others can raise the dead for limited time and they are the Reapers but I...I am The Reaper, I am the only one in the history of Reaping that can bring the dead back permanently and I can foresee death and prevent it from happening in the first place and I cause it but I hate it.

The responsibility, the hatred and the pain. It's awful and it's emotionally draining, it's tiresome and its dull. The Reapers forbid me from using the curse for personal gain but I won't lie, I have many, many times but the only time that mattered is still to come. Six hundred and seventeen years ago on August the third, I was bit.

I was bitten by a stray bear wondering in the woods outside my Father's wood works cabin. It punctured my artery and tore my hamstring, I bled to death in under ten minutes but that was the day I changed.

Humans believe I'm all these creatures such as vampires, warlocks and werewolves but they have never given Reapers more then a thought. We judge them throughout their leaves to condemn them to heaven or hell but only once have I sent a person to heaven and it was a baby who died at birth. She never had the time to commit a son and she was pure, so she went to her lord.

The thing with the Reapers is we aren't born. We don't have mothers or fathers, belly buttons or bonds. We have curses and bite marks. When a human dies their lives don't end there on Earth, the first test is Reaper or resident. We have to source their DNA for what we call the 'Infinity Gene' or the 'Black Gene' it is only found in dyslexic children. It's a twisted gene in the brain that gives you a true soul, everyone has souls but only a Reaper's soul is true. If they have the 'Black Gene' they go to the Reaping where they will be trailed for labour or for doom- the ones who'd abuse the power go to immortal death and then ones who won't go into labour but those without the gene are judged for Heaven or Hell.

Most go to Hell.

My job, is to make sure that people die as their fate says they should. I go undercover sometimes and in other cases, I go to kill or to save and other times to bargain.

Today, Bast Cathy had been trying (and failed) to bargain and the Resistance must of been settling her payment but I can not rise her dead son, he died for a reason. Admittedly, the reason I do not know but I can feel in my soul that there is one and that it's a very good one.

I am exhausted. My head is pulsing and I feel stressed. I know I need to calm down because I'm constantly advised that one row and I could be dead. I've broken something in my soul that is supposed to keep my mind one of calmness but its broken and it does not help me no more. It's dangerous because without the bond of protection to calm me, I could die from stress any day, I may not have a tomorrow.

It's silly isn't it? I could live ten thousand years but I might not have another tomorrow because of a bit of stress? It's pathetic.

I know why my bond broke but I am forbidden to use my powers to change what I did because of the dangers but I don't regret what I did, I don't regret saving him.

I don't regret him.

I don't regret Bryce.