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Story by Vivipixels - Zeydaan has a lucky escape from death... But the price must be paid.

“I can’t control it! Agh!”

A surge of energy rippled from Zeydaan’s fingertips, ripping open a dimensional rift directly on top of a bus that the two were fighting near. Vic fell to his knees, watching the twisted faces of the passengers, screaming as they were pulled into the rift. There was nothing he could do, and it was all his fault.

“Are you even paying attention Victor!?” Zeydaan screamed.

Their rival, Victor Powers, had suddenly stopped in the middle of what had started out as a sparring match, but had quickly bloomed into a no-holds-barred fight. Vic’s pale blue eyes suddenly sharpened with focus, and he brushed some of his wild, blonde hair back over his ear.

“I am!” he spat back defiantly, “but are you?”

As he shouted, he closed the gap between the two, swinging his sword wildly. Zeydaan hopped back, keeping Vic’s attacks just out of range. He was attacking with a sudden ferocity, desperately trying to hit them. No matter how hard Vic tried, he could not strike Zeydaan.

“You almost had me that time!” Zeydaan taunted.

Energy surged down their right arm as they prepared to cast a spell. As they did, they saw fear in Victor’s eyes, and hesitated. Vic lunged, seizing Zeydaan’s right wrist, twisting it behind them. With a pommel strike to Zeydaan’s shoulder, Vic forced the energy out, creating a dimensional rift behind Zeydaan.

“Agh! What are you doing!?” “What I must for the greater good.”
Without a further word, Victor plunged his sword into Zeydaan’s stomach, and pushed them into the rift. They watched the rift starting to close as they fell into the chaotic abyss. Zeydaan watched Victor turn away as the dimensional rift closed. The sheer shock of the situation had kept Zeydaan from feeling much of anything. Their body quickly numbed, drifting down into the unknown. A sudden presence pressed on the back of their mind. With it, a voice. Coarse, gruff, but mystifying.

“No… No no no… That wasn’t supposed to happen. How did… You, you’re not supposed to be here.”

Zeydaan tried to respond, but couldn’t. A cold absence filled their form, replacing the numbness with true emptiness.
“I’ll cut you a deal, mortal. You get a second chance, returning to life. In exchange, you help me right the wrongs. Does that sound fair?”

A single thought formed in their mind as darkness swallowed them whole. ‘Yes.’
Then, there was nothing.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ “...and then things just got out of hand.”
Zeydaan’s eyes snapped open. A sweltering rage erupted in their chest, burning so hot it made their blood run cold. Slowly, they rose from the heap they were laying in, and assessed their surroundings. They were in the Hawkmoth’s base, and somehow without a sword in their midriff.

“How out of hand? Victor, what happened?” an indistinct voice asked.

Zeydaan stumbled towards the conversation. They were disoriented, as if they were unused to having a body. After turning a corner, they realized they were behind Vic, who was completely unaware of their presence. With quiet steps, they began to sneak up behind him.

“I… Zeydaan-”

They threw their arm around Vic’s shoulder, casually draping themself on him. “-is just fine!” they interrupted.
Zeydaan felt Victor jump in surprise, the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end. He screamed, turning as pale as a sheet.

“Y-Y-You-You-” he stammered, unable to compose himself. “Me?” Zeydaan asked playfully.
Vic shuddered.

“I-I-I watched you fall into a dimensional rift.” “And I made it back just fine!”
The rest of the Hawkmoths began to laugh, taking delight in the circumstance. Zeydaan leaned in to Vic, and whispered with a cold, angry tone.

“I know what you did,” they hissed in a voice that wasn’t entirely their own.

Zeydaan smiled as Vic looked back at them, sheer terror expressed in his eye. They took their arm off Vic’s shoulder, patting his back. The gesture barely helped to comfort him, as he was shaking like a leaf under Zeydaan’s touch.

“Well, I’m gonna go for a walk,” they said, “I’ll be back later!”

With a wave, they stepped out of the base. As soon as they were alone, they felt an icy chill run up their spine.

“You felt it, didn’t you?”

The voice from the dimensional rift spoke to them once more.

“I know you did. You feel the same anger I do, that fate itself has been changed, interfered with, and know those who shouldn’t still be alive walk without punishment. This is what I brought you back for. To right the wrongs.”

“I… I don’t think I could.”

“Well here’s the thing. You don’t exactly have a choice here, Zeydaan Jem. I saved you. You now owe me. When I say this, it isn’t just an offhand remark. You feel the same as I do, because I said you do.”

A pit formed in their stomach. The voice’s tone had become more commanding and sinister. “What if I don’t want to?” Zeydaan demanded.
“Well, very simply, I would kill you. I’ll return you to the pitch black void I plucked your miserable soul from, where you could rot for all eternity. A fitting fate for someone who would back out of a deal struck.”

Zeydaan’s heart slowed, filling their veins with icy fear. Doubts swarmed their mind. Was this a mistake? Would it have been better to have just stayed in the dimensional rift? Who or what exactly did they make this deal with? Why did i-

“There’s the first of those who were fated to die. Do not let them slip away without correcting this.”
Snapping out of their deep thoughts, Zeydaan looked up. They had apparently been wandering during this conversation, and ended up just outside a café. A shiver ran down their spine, and an awareness that something was horribly, viscerally wrong.

The feeling only got stronger as they stepped inside. Behind the counter, a person worked hurriedly to fill orders. This woman was the source of the horrid feeling that now permeated Zeydaan’s form. It made them sick to their stomach.

“There it is, now you understand. Help me correct this.”

“How?” Zeydaan mumbled to herself, “I’m not exactly keen on offing someone in the middle of a coffee shop.”

“Just get close enough for my influence to take hold, and I’ll handle it.”

“Okay.” Zeydaan sighed.

They quietly joined in the line to place an order. As the line moved, the nausea intensified exponentially. A spark of frustration flared in their chest, fueled by a desire to make the terrible feelings plaguing them stop. As they stepped up to the counter, they had to steady themself with one hand. The woman behind the counter looked at them expectantly.

“What can I get you today?” She asked in an overwhelmingly chipper tone. “Could I just get a small, black coffee, please?”
“Sure! Can I get a name for the order?”

“Zeydaan,” they said, barely managing to keep it together.

With a half stumble, Zeydaan moved over to a small table, and put their head in their hands. Their attention landed on the café workers’ conversation.

“We’re out of coffee grounds!”

“Hey Micheal, can you take orders up front? I need to grind some more beans!” “Sure Linda, just be quick.”
Zeydaan watched Linda, the source of their nausea, enter a storage room. There was silence, then a whirring. Then a thud. Then a bloodcurdling scream. Zeydaan’s eyes slowly widened, realizing what had happened, as the feelings plaguing them faded.

“There’s the first one taken care of. “
Zeydaan felt a different sort of nausea. The feeling one gets when they realize they’ve made a horrible mistake. The storage room door was pushed open, wafting out the scent of blood.
Micheal, the other worker on duty, gasped. He gagged, and turned to the onlooking crowd. “Someone call an ambulance!”
Panic and chaos ensued as customers began to flee. Zeydaan got themself swept up in the madness, pulled from the café in the crowd. They managed to slip into an alley, where they collapsed.

“...fuck…”

“What’s wrong, my executor? Getting cold feet after your first brush with Death?”

Pin pricks rushed down their scalp. They gasped for air as their mouth ached. Relief clashed with panic, a sickening joy melded with deep discomfort.

“...How many more times do I have to do this?”

“Five souls remain unreaped. Five more must die.”

Adrenaline slammed through their veins, that made them burn with rage and frustration. “Fine! Fine! If it’ll get you off my back I’ll do it!”
More pin pricks scattered across their body as their emotions surged. With an uncharacteristically wicked laugh, they ran their claws through their hair. Some of it felt rougher than the rest. Must’ve slept on it weird. This wouldn’t be so bad, just get close to five more people, let the aura take hold, then leave. Easy.

“What a sudden change of heart! How delicious.”

That made them shudder. Their passenger was right, they had a very sudden shift of perspective. Maybe it was the adrenaline, or the relief in knowing that their first hurdle was clear. Perhaps it was something different. Deeper than they could even perceive.

“Where’s the next one?”

“I’m not omniscient. I have yet to locate another soul that escaped me.”

“Alright, what do I do then?”

“Be patient. There’s no telling how long it will be until we find the next one.”
Anger and frustration welled up inside them. A bizarre, newfound desire to finish what was started.

“Agh! I just want to get this done so I can get you out of my head!”

“Have I been that bad of a passenger?”

“You- You just-”

“Helped you pay off your debt to me. Did you forget? You owe me for saving your pitiful soul.”

“Why do I owe you so much? Who the fuck even are you!?”

“Have you not caught on yet, my dear host? Has the thought of who is inhabiting your body not crossed your mind until now? Did the reaping of a soul not even stir a single idea?”

Zeydaan’s heart froze. Their throat tightened.

“Ohhh so you do already know. Are you trying to deny it then? Trying to deny the truth? To spare yourself the pain? It’s not complex. You know who, or what, I am- and what you are.”

“...Death…”

Their voice wasn't entirely their own.

“The one and only.”

Zeydaan felt their knees grow weak. A sudden, gastly weight filled their mind. Their vision darkened. On a plane of shadowy, reflective glass stood a tall, silvery-white wolf. He wore a black, hooded cloak, and clutched a sickle in both of his claws. Zeydaan shrunk under his gaze, his red glowing eyes piercing through them.

“It’s a pleasure to finally speak face to face.”

Zeydaan’s jaw trembled. Their eyes unfocused. In wordless terror, they watched as Death approached them. They looked down at their shaking claws, but quickly found the tip of a sickle blade tilting their head up to meet Death’s gaze, his red sclera pulsed in time with his heartbeat.

“What’s wrong, Zeydaan Jem? You know I’m not here to take that miserable soul of yours from your chest.”

Fear still clamped Zeydaan’s throat closed. They couldn't even make a sound. Death leaned in even closer to Zeydaan, the mask-like pattern on his face becoming very prominent.
“Aww, what’s the matter? Cat’s got your tongue?”

A surge of defiance burst through Zeydaan. They grit their teeth, reaching up to pull the sickle away. Only to find their wrist caught in the crook of the second sickle.

“What did you think was going to happen? Arms down.”

Begrudgingly, Zeydaan obeyed. Death let out a deep, menacing chuckle.

“I’ve had enough of this little game,” Zeydaan shouted, frustration filling their voice, “what do you want from me?! Why are we here?! Where is here?!”

“Oh you’re upset? You aren't the disembodied spirit of an all-powerful entity forced to constrain himself into the pitiful shell of a mortal. I brought you here, into the depths of your own mind so that you could see this beautiful face of mine.”

“Okay, I’ve seen it, what’s your plan now, jerk?!”

“To teach you some manners!”

A red glow washed over Zeydaan.

“I am Death, and you are my vessel. As my vessel, you are to do as I say because I am Death. I want to make sure you get this through your thick skull before we set out after the remaining five souls to pay off your debt. You listen to Me. Understand?”

Zeydaan scowled.

“Fine. Whatever gets you out of my head fastest.”

“I assure you, cooperation with me is most beneficial. If you refuse, I can always send you back to the void I plucked you from.”

“You… won't have to…” Zeydaan trailed off, defeated.

With a deafening, cruel laugh, Death pulled his sickles away, as darkness filled Zeydaan’s vision once more. Pinholes of light bloomed into color, returning them to the alleyway they had stumbled into. They rose on uneasy footing, leaning against a brick wall.

“Zeydaan? Zeydaan!” A familiar voice cried out. “Here!” They shouted, letting out a deep sigh.
Rounding the corner was an anthro goat, probably one of the best people who could have shown up. It was their dear friend Asriel Reinsford.

“There you are! Someone said they saw you around here and I came looking. Are you alright?”

For a fleeting moment, they considered telling Asriel everything. About being possessed by Death. About how they were thrown into a dimensional rift. About being tangentially responsible for the death of that barista. Their passenger, however, stayed their tongue.

“I’m okay,” Zeydaan said behind a forced smile, “just a little rattled by what happened at the café.”

“I can tell. Just take some deep breaths, okay?”

Zeydaan closed their eyes, leaning heavily on the brick wall.

“You know I can hear your thoughts, right? Telling your little friend there about our deal would most certainly go poorly for the two of you.”

A frightened gasp escaped Zeydaan’s throat, causing Asriel to move closer. “What is it?” He prodded gently, “Are you alright?”
Truth or lie. Risk or safety.

“I… I think I left my phone back in the café.” “Oh! I’ll run and get that for you.”
“Thank you,” Zeydaan sighed.

“You are treading a dangerous path, Zeydaan Jem.”

“What if I am, huh?!”

“Then I will teach you what it means to play with fire.”

The following thirty seconds of silence were deafening, each moment passing slower than the last. Even Asriel’s movements seeming to be sluggish. As he approached, Zeydaan’s mouth spoke on its own.

“Y’know, I can't help somehow feel responsible, if only I'd been more directly involved maybe things would've gone differently.”
Asriel put a gentle hand on their shoulder.

“Survivor’s guilt, I get it. I promise you it wasn’t your fault. Just breathe, okay?”

Cautiously, with his other hand, Asriel handed Zeydaan their phone. He smiled at them, trying to be as calm as possible.

“It’s more than just survivor’s guilt,” Zeydaan’s mouth continued, “it’s a feeling of direct responsibility. This… This was my fault, and I could have stopped it.”

“Hey, you know that’s not true. It was a freak accident.”

Zeydaan wrestled for control of themself, doubling over. Death’s grip over them was tight, yet Zeydaan managed to shake loose.

“Zeydaan!?” Asriel exclaimed, watching his friend in horror.

After a moment of stunned silence, Zeydaan straightened upright. “I’m okay. Just… lost control of myself there for a minute.”
“I personally believe you were more in control than ever before, but I digress.”

Zeydaan scowled inwardly. They knew none of that was true.

“It’s alright,” Asriel said in a comforting voice, “I know none of that was true. Come on, let’s get you back to HQ.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sometimes, the passage of time is fast. Minutes fly by, hours pass without it feeling more than a couple seconds. Other times, it is slow. Every moment drawn out in agony. If one is really unlucky, time may bounce between the two extremes rapidly. Zeydaan groaned, staring at the hands of the clock on the wall. They could have sworn the hands had begun to move backwards. All they could do was wait, as Death was focused on finding the next missing soul. In his absence, Zeydaan felt… empty. Like a part of themself was missing. They counted each sluggish second, hoping for a swift-

“I return, O Vessel mine.”

A wave of relief washed over Zeydaan, followed by anger.

“What took you so long?! Why couldn't you just reap the soul while you were out?!”
“It took a greater period of time because I am not a bloodhound, and I could not reap the soul because I had no Vessel to spread my influence through. Shall we continue our questions, or are you done?”

Zeydaan bit their lip.

“Alright, where are we going?”

“Into the city, in a pillar of steel and glass, high above the world.”

“A skyscraper?”

“Yes.”

“That is decidedly unhelpful.”

“I will guide you, my Vessel. You need only trust me.”

“...We have already established why I don’t want to do that.”

“We have also established that you need to.”

There was a long pause. The tension was palpable. “...Fine, lead the way.”
Zeydaan rose from their bed, unsure how to follow Death’s guidance. For a moment, there was nothing. Then, a scent, as attractive as the sweetest honey. The smell itself was earthy, heavy, and slightly metallic. Zeydaan quickly found their body was beginning to chase the scent all on its own.

“Yes, your first quarry. Follow my guidance. Find your prey.”

As much as Zeydaan resented Death for saying that, it was remarkably easy to track the bizarre smell. They weaved in and out of strangers on the sidewalk, picking up speed the longer they followed the scent. Zeydaan was so focused on chasing the trail, that they ran full tilt into a door. Fortunately, the only thing that was damaged was their pride. They quickly jumped to their feet, brushing off some dirt.

“We are here. Somewhere in this building lies your quarry.”

“Okay, any tips on where to look?”

“My guidance will not lead you astray. Follow it.”
Zeydaan groaned, frustrated that their companion could not give them any more specific details. As they stepped into the lobby, a wave of the strange scent rushed through them. They drank it in for a moment, strange as it was, the smell was pleasant. With a confident stride, they made their way across the lobby, straight up to the lift.

Thankfully, the lift was empty. Zeydaan stepped in, then hesitated. Perhaps it would be better to take the stairs, since they had no idea where to start anyway. Before they could step back out or press any buttons, the lift beeped, and the doors closed. Someone had called it to another floor. The decision had been made for them.

Perhaps this was to their benefit. The lift was going all the way to the top floor. If they paid enough attention, they could tell what floor their quarry was on! Patiently, they stared at the floor number, waiting for the scent of their quarry to fade. With each passing floor, the smell grew stronger. Adrenaline began to course through them, the thrill of the hunt overtaking their rational consciousness.

It wasn’t until the lift reached the top floor that it stopped. As the lift's doors slowly rolled open, another wave of the scent hit Zeydaan like a freight train. They nearly stumbled back, caught off guard by the sheer strength of it.

“Oh!” A voice exclaimed, “I’m sorry, I’m not taking meetings right now.”

Zeydaan focused on the source of the voice. A rather pale man in a fancy suit with a black crew cut. He stepped into the lift next to Zeydaan, and pressed the first floor button.

“Quickly, depart this lift. I have marked our prey, Death will soon find him.”

There was one way out of any scenario, guaranteed. Faking nausea. Zeydaan cupped their mouth, and began frantically pressing the button for the nearest floor. The man in the elevator with them immediately took note of this, giving Zeydaan space. With a beep, the lift doors opened, and they bolted out. Behind them was a loud, haunting creek. Zeydaan looked back, locking eyes with the man inside the lift. Their right arm moved involuntarily, claw drawing a circle in the air.

SNAP!

Zeydaan watched the lift car plummet, screaming back to the first floor. Horror washed over them, in realization of what they had done.

“I-I just…”

BANG!
“...Reaped your first soul yourself.”

A red tinge filled their vision. Pinpricks rushed down their spine and scalp. Fear and exhilaration clashed, causing cascading confusion. Wild laughter began to fall from their maw, as the claws of guilty joy dug into their heart. An ache shrouded their mouth, their teeth sharpening into vicious points. Suddenly, they fell silent.

“Perhaps I underestimated you, O Vessel Mine.”

Somewhere, among the swirling mass of conflict in Zeydaan’s mind, hairline fractures began to form. Subtle, small, but ultimately could lead to a terrible shattering.

“I… I need to leave.”

They peeled themself off the tile floor and bolted to the stairwell. Zeydaan scrambled down the stairs, as if they could outrun what they had done. They burst through the doors at the bottom of the stairwell, looking out on a crowd frozen in terror.

It took Zeydaan a moment to notice that not a single eye fell upon them. Silently, they slipped out of the building. In a manic haze, they began to wander. Their gait was shuffling, aimless. Their mind churned on what had happened, what they had done. This time, it was not squarely Death’s fault. This time, they had done the deed. This time, Zeydaan Jem had killed someone.

Without warning, they tripped, landing squarely on the bank of a pond. Zeydaan peered down the water, staring deeply at her reflection. Most of the fur on their muzzle had become white. The very edges of their iris had become a deep crimson. Their teeth had all sharpened to a
dagger-like point.

"Admiring yourself, Vessel?" Zeydaan was quietly contemplative. "How… How did this happen?"
"You channeled my power to Reap a soul. Of course you, my dear Vessel, would not escape unscathed."

"Does this last forever?"

"As long as we are bound, Vessel. I'm sure a little white fur isn't worse than abyssal oblivion."

That much was true. Some color changes here and there… probably better than the alternative. The alternative being something far worse than death. A yawning void awaited them if they
backed out. It felt like standing on the precipice of some great chasm, doing everything they could to keep the wind from knocking them careening into the depths.

"So… what now?" Zeydaan asked, rising from the pond's edge.

"Four souls remain, in need of being reaped. Four more hunts. It falls on your shoulders to find our next quarry."

"What?! Why!?"

"You have channeled my power, we are more bound than before. I cannot depart this body as easily as I once could."

"Well, I-I'll just unchannel you! I can do that, right?"

"Hmhmhm, that is not possible."

"Well, why not?!"

"Your soul has been tainted by death… In simple terms, your soul is Mine. Were I to leave your body now, I would take your soul with me."

"...oh."

"Worry not, O Vessel mine. You've tracked a quarry before, I have every confidence in you to find our next soul."

"Okay but where do I-"

On the breeze, like a faint whisper, came the scent of their next quarry. From just that one hint, all the fur on Zeydaan's neck stood on end. Their pupils
dilated, their body suddenly putting itself into fight or flight.

"The Hunt Begins."

Zeydaan bent their head down slightly, drinking in the scent. Had they been craving it? Desiring to hunt, to stalk their prey. Briefly, they leaned down to the ground, digging their claws into the grass.

"I-Zeydaan!?"

In a wild panic, they glanced behind them. The source of the voice was their dear friend Asriel, who looked disturbed and horrified. Zeydaan swiftly straightened up.
"Asriel! I uh, didn't see you there."

"What was that?! What were you doing?!" "Uh, new stretching technique, saw it online." "You were growling!"
Zeydaan knew the lies were piling up. "I was clearing my throat."
"Be honest with me Zeydaan. Please."

"You know what you risk with the truth."

"I know something happened with Victor- You've been off ever since," Asriel continued, "could you please just talk to me?"

"The abyss will be your fate should you speak." The two voices were becoming overwhelming. "Zeydaan, please. Come with me."
"If you follow him, you walk to your doom."

Zeydaan doubled over, clutching their head.

"I want to help you, Zeydaan. Let me help you." "The hunt calls, Zeydaan, and you must answer." "I'm your friend, I'm not going to hurt you."
"He cannot know. Do not speak with him further."

"AAAAA! SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP!! BOTH OF YOU SHUT UP!!" Zeydaan screamed,
claws pressing into their skull.

Asriel recoiled with a gasp. Even Death himself seemed startled. With a frenzied gaze, Zeydaan looked towards Asriel. They had never seen such fear in his eyes. Shame washed over them, and in a panic, they fled. Tears blurred their vision. They cared not for how long they ran, only that they would get as far away from Asriel as they could.
How could they treat their dear friend like that? Snapping angrily at him like a wild dog. Zeydaan was not some cornered, feral beast whose life was being threatened. Their actions were wholly out of line, and they knew it. They were angry about how they acted, how quickly they were overwhelmed.

"Vessel! Calm yourself! Be STILL!"

Zeydaan's legs froze from under them, causing them to trip. As they lay on the ground, darkness enveloped them. Out from the inky blank, Death appeared, standing over Zeydaan.

"Well? Are you just going to lay there, vessel? Stand up!"

Despite very much not wanting to listen to the whims of Death, their body followed the command without fail. They scowled at the pale wolf.

"What do you have to say for yourself?"

"Asriel is my friend," Zeydaan growled, "and I don't appreciate you telling me what I can and can't say to my friend."

"I can't have you spilling your guts to him!"

"Ohhh, is the all-powerful Death scared of a goat doctor?" Death snarled, pulling Zeydaan close with a sickle.
"Our bond will remain secret whether you tell him or not. Of course, we both wouldn’t like to be witness to his death, would we?”

A spike of ice cold fear pierced Zeydaan's heart. "You wouldn't dare."
"Do. Not. Doubt. Death."

Defeated, they backed down, shrinking away from Death. He let out a deep chuckle, pulling Zeydaan ever closer.

"You are my vessel, never forget that."

His words hung in the tense air. The darkness slowly faded from Zeydaan's eyes. Once more they found themself on the ground, staring up at the sky, dazed. Zeydaan sucked in a deep breath, expecting to pick up the trail of their next quarry.
There it was, like a whisper on the breeze. If nothing else, at least it was reliable. Carefully, Zeydaan rose to their feet, drinking in the scent. Their senses sharpened as they uncaged the primal beast in their heart. Zeydaan let loose a deep bellow, and dashed off in the direction of the trail.

Four more souls. That was all that was needed. Four more, and then Death would release Zeydaan. They kept this in mind as they arrived at what they assumed was the site of their next reaping: a… used car dealership.

Zeydaan was briefly taken aback. This dealership was new, of that they were sure. Not all of the cars had been taken off the trucks. Maybe this would be easier than they thought. They crouched slightly, and began to stalk the lot, following the scent trail. Their quarry was here, there was no mistaking that.

"Jake! Are you gonna fucking sign for these cars or what?!"

The person driving the truck shouted at the lone building in the center of the dealership. A voice called back, turse and frustrated.

"I told you not to swear on my lot, Curtis! Keep your pants on, I'm closing a deal!"

A moment later, Zeydaan watched a middle-aged shiba-inu leave the center building, approaching the rear of the truck. This was it, the opportunity was served to them on a silver platter. They raised their hand up, drawing a circle in the air around one of the cars on the top of the cargo trailer. As Jake reached the back of the truck, there was a loud screech. He looked up in fear.

CRUNCH!

An SUV had become unstuck, rolling backwards off the cargo trailer. It had fallen roughly four and a half meters, landing squarely on the salesman. The truck driver was frozen stiff, having been standing near the car as it fell and crushed Jake into a paste.

"C-can someone call an ambulance!" cried the truck driver, finally shaking himself free of the paralysis.

Zeydaan skulked away, creeping into the treeline. The second they were alone, warm static erupted across their body, followed by pin pricks. A sharp pain burst from the top of their skull, one familiar to Zeydaan. A growing pain. Their claws wrapped around their muzzle, forcing a wicked laugh to stifle. In this madness, a truth had become clear to Zeydaan, unveiled by the deepening of their bond with Death.

The guiding hand that had been leading them to their prey was not simply the power of death guiding them. It was the smell of their quarry's fear. These souls had a fear buried deep down
below their consciousness, an ingrained fear that Death would come to claim them, to correct the error. With freshly heightened senses, Zeydaan drank in the scent of fear. Their emotions smelled so sweet, they couldn't stand it.

This wild joy in their heart was so viscerally appealing. They had doubted this for so long. But now, bathed in the enjoyment of the hunt… why had they ever feared the consequences of this bond? Why hadn't they embraced this sooner? As soon as the feelings arrived, they began to fade. Zeydaan needed more.

"Finally, vessel, you serve me willingly. Continue the hunt."

Drawing in a deep breath, they picked up the trail of the next quarry. They were close by. Zeydaan turned back to the lot. How fortunate was this? Another soul to reap was there, just waiting for Death's vessel.

Amidst the onlookers who were watching the ambulance arrive on the lot was a posh hag of a woman. This vain ghoul was her quarry, there could be no mistaking it. Vessel could practically see the miasmic fear cloud swirling around her fur coat. They snarled at their quarry through the brush, and began to stalk closer.

Zeydaan made sure to keep from sight as they snuck back onto the lot. This soul had arrived on the scene in a very fancy car. Well kept, clean, and more expensive than every other car on the lot combined.

"Oh miss Shibaluki, I'm so glad you're here," the truck driver said, "I-It's your husband, he's-" "Dead," the dog replied.
"I-It was an accident I-"

"Oh don't worry too much. We had an incredible insurance policy on him. Speaking of, I'm going to go claim that now."

As suddenly as their prey had arrived, she turned back from the SUV that crushed her husband, climbed back into her car, and started to leave the lot. Vessel growled, this one could not be allowed to escape. The car drove right by Zeydaan, who stared the hag dead in the eyes as they drew a circle around the car in the air.

BOOM!

That fancy, multimillion dollar car the hag was driving exploded. Vessel snuck away, cackling to themself. As they broke through the treeline, the cackles turned into maddened, full chest laughter. Euphoria filled their head, as another wave of pin pricks and static washed over their body. Zeydaan growled as they gripped their horns.
It only now occurred to them that their horns had been experiencing some strange growth spurts. Now, they were much larger, nearly curling down to their shoulders. As they contemplated when this had happened, the red tint at the edges of their vision slowly expanded, smothering their sight. Then, it was gone.

"Yes, only two souls remain."

"Two more…" Vessel echoed, "I almost pity that our deal will come to an end. I've come to enjoy it."

"You've seen the error of your old ways. You were always fated to be an instrument of Death. Now, you have embraced that truth."

Death's words stirred a myriad of emotions deep within Zeydaan. Before any of them could rise to a coherent thought, the scent of fear clouded their senses and mind. The earthy, heavy smell of fear… Vessel loved it almost as much as they loved the hunt. Their quarry's fear guided their steps once more.

Out of the woods, down the road, to an intersection that had recently been hit by a blackout. In the center of the crossroads was a police officer, directing traffic. Zeydaan grinned, watching him intently. This would be so easy. There was a nearby construction site. All they needed was… that!

A semi-truck carrying a large supply of metal pipes, so many that they were piled above the cab. Perfect. Vessel drew a circle in the air around the truck, and waited. With sudden, violent acceleration, the truck lurched forward, speeding into the intersection. Fortunately, it managed to stop just before the police officer.

CLANG!

The truck had stopped, but the pipes it was carrying didn't. The cab kept most of them from flying forward. Most of them. The five sat just above the cab kept moving forward. Then down. The police officer who was directing traffic watched the pipes slide down the front of the cab, piercing through him at high speeds. He was skewered before he could even react.

Vessel snuck into a nearby alleyway, barely containing a joyful howl. Their claws clutched their growing horns, desperately holding on to them as their body quaked. Flesh and bone stretched, adding on to Vessel's height. It was only uncomfortable for a fleeting moment, as their head was filled with bliss at the thought that their body had nearly become a perfect mirror of the image of Death.

They released their horns, slowly standing to their new, full height. This Vessel was incomplete. One soul remained. Once that soul was reaped… Vessel shuddered to think of what would
happen. A cackling laugh rolled out of their maw. Joy bubbled up their spine. Death and the Vessel would be one.

"Find your last wayward soul, O Vessel mine. Our pact will be complete."

"Yes, yes! One final soul, and the error will be corrected."

Vessel leaned down to the ground, searching for the smell of fear. It was faint, very distant. Their quarry was a good distance away from them. This was no issue. Vessel had the trail, that was all they needed. With a howl, they began to sprint towards the source of the scent, so swiftly that it seemed like they were gliding. Wind rushed through their now coarse, white fur, bringing a toothy grin to their muzzle. They would find that soul in no time flat.

Vessel didn't pay attention to any of the signs as they barged into the building that the trail led to. Gasps and screams echoed behind them. They flew down a set of stairs, and burst into the room with their prey. A morgue. How fitting. A single person stood alone in the center of the room. Zeydaan's dear friend Asriel. Recognition caused hesitation. Asriel turned to face them, letting out a soft gasp.

"Zeydaan? Is that you?"

Vessel growled, gasped, grappled for control.

"I'll admit," he continued, slowly approaching Zeydaan, "I knew something was happening, but not what."

"I-I…" Zeydaan's words caught in their throat.

"You are so close, my Vessel! Finish it! Kill him!"

"You're in pain," Asriel gently laid a hand on the side of Zeydaan's face, "I can help you." "No, you cannot," Vessel growled.
"Do you truly believe that you are beyond saving?"

"You are my Vessel! Nothing can change that now!"

Vessel snarled and swiped a claw at Asriel, who jumped back in response.

"You need to listen to me, Zeydaan. No matter what you've done, no matter what has happened, you can still come back from this."
"Six souls…" Vessel started to approach Asriel, "Five have already been reclaimed. All except you."

Panic flashed in Asriel's eyes. Vessel shuddered, the scent of fear acting like chum in the waters.

"It is too late for this Vessel," Death's words flowed out from his Vessel's grinning maw, "And it is too late for you."

"Y-You don't have to do this," Asriel stammered.

"Oh but I must," Death continued, approaching the goat, "for you see, you were destined to die. As Death, I must correct that. And for that to happen, I've got to pull that miserable soul of yours from your body!"

Vessel wrapped their claws around Asriel's body, lifting him up. "Zeydaan!" Asriel pleaded.
With a wild howl, Vessel threw Asriel into the morgue's incinerator. Their claws trembled as they drew a circle in the air around the incinerator. The flames quickly rose, swallowing Asriel's silhouette. Death threw their head back laughing and howling. Pain swelled across their body. A perfect image of Death. Pure white, coarse fur. Sleek black claws. Eyes of crimson red.

"Finally, oh finally, it's sooo good to be back," Death growled, admiring himself, "and this Vessel turned out so well."

"There is only one thing left to do," said the Vessel, "repay the one who started this all."

"Funny, I was thinking the same thing."

Death hummed to himself as he left the morgue. Now that the Vessel was complete, only those who were destined to die could see them. While many within these walls feared Death, none of them needed to be reaped. For now.

They were focused on a singular task. To repay a blood debt. Death arrived at the entrance to the Hawkmoth's base, just as someone was leaving. The exact someone they were looking for.

"Victor Powers," Death snarled.

"D-Do I know you?" he replied, turning pale.

"Oh of course you. The rider of the pale horse? The fate of all fools? The black cloaked specter?"
"Your voice… Zeydaan?"

"So you recognize the Vessel." "What happened to you?"
"What do you think, Victor," the Vessel spoke on its own, "I was spared by Death. You altered fate, and I was punished for it! But now, your little hero act has been corrected, now Death and I are one. And you will finally get your due."

"You… are going to kill me?"

"I'm going to repay the same kindness you extended to me on the day I died."

Death reached up, gripping onto the Vessel's horns.

CRACK!

They shattered off rather easily. With a press of his influence, the long, curved horns transformed into his signature sickles. A cruel smile spread across his muzzle.

"I take no pleasure in killing those who do not deserve it…" Death started.

"But you do," the Vessel finished.

With a flash of red, Death darted towards Vic, who caught Death's initial cross slash with his sword.

"No! I will not fall to the likes of you, you-you freak!"

"Oh, that's not a nice way to address your former rival!"

Vic pushed out of the clash, causing Death to step back. Capitalizing on the break, Vic slashed upward confidently. He failed utterly, not a single fiber of the Vessel's fur had been split. Death landed a few feet back, spinning his sickles. With a shout, Vic charged, bringing his sword in a wide arc. Death ducked under, slamming the heel of his sickles into Vic's stomach.

Victor screamed, enraged that this non-human would dare fight him. He made a wild slash, loosening his grip for extra range. In response, Death hooked Vic's sword, and disarmed him. With his other sickle, Death pulled Vic in close.

"What are you going to do now, hero?"
"Y-You can't do this to me, Zeydaan!"

"Pleading to those who you've wronged won't save your miserable soul!" Vessel screamed. "You should have stayed in the dimensional rift I threw you into! I did it to save people!" "And look how well that turned out. No one can cheat Death, Victor, not even you."
"Zey-"

Victor's head tumbled from his shoulders, still contorted in an angry scream. Death chuckled, knocking it aside. The Vessel and Death were finally one, united. They could not rest though, for there were many souls to reap. Death began to whistle to himself as he walked from the lifeless corpse of Victor Powers.

Description

Story by Vivipixels - Zeydaan has a lucky escape from death... But the price must be paid.

“I can’t control it! Agh!”

A surge of energy rippled from Zeydaan’s fingertips, ripping open a dimensional rift directly on top of a bus that the two were fighting near. Vic fell to his knees, watching the twisted faces of the passengers, screaming as they were pulled into the rift. There was nothing he could do, and it was all his fault.

“Are you even paying attention Victor!?” Zeydaan screamed.

Their rival, Victor Powers, had suddenly stopped in the middle of what had started out as a sparring match, but had quickly bloomed into a no-holds-barred fight. Vic’s pale blue eyes suddenly sharpened with focus, and he brushed some of his wild, blonde hair back over his ear.

“I am!” he spat back defiantly, “but are you?”

As he shouted, he closed the gap between the two, swinging his sword wildly. Zeydaan hopped back, keeping Vic’s attacks just out of range. He was attacking with a sudden ferocity, desperately trying to hit them. No matter how hard Vic tried, he could not strike Zeydaan.

“You almost had me that time!” Zeydaan taunted.

Energy surged down their right arm as they prepared to cast a spell. As they did, they saw fear in Victor’s eyes, and hesitated. Vic lunged, seizing Zeydaan’s right wrist, twisting it behind them. With a pommel strike to Zeydaan’s shoulder, Vic forced the energy out, creating a dimensional rift behind Zeydaan.

“Agh! What are you doing!?” “What I must for the greater good.”
Without a further word, Victor plunged his sword into Zeydaan’s stomach, and pushed them into the rift. They watched the rift starting to close as they fell into the chaotic abyss. Zeydaan watched Victor turn away as the dimensional rift closed. The sheer shock of the situation had kept Zeydaan from feeling much of anything. Their body quickly numbed, drifting down into the unknown. A sudden presence pressed on the back of their mind. With it, a voice. Coarse, gruff, but mystifying.

“No… No no no… That wasn’t supposed to happen. How did… You, you’re not supposed to be here.”

Zeydaan tried to respond, but couldn’t. A cold absence filled their form, replacing the numbness with true emptiness.
“I’ll cut you a deal, mortal. You get a second chance, returning to life. In exchange, you help me right the wrongs. Does that sound fair?”

A single thought formed in their mind as darkness swallowed them whole. ‘Yes.’
Then, there was nothing.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ “...and then things just got out of hand.”
Zeydaan’s eyes snapped open. A sweltering rage erupted in their chest, burning so hot it made their blood run cold. Slowly, they rose from the heap they were laying in, and assessed their surroundings. They were in the Hawkmoth’s base, and somehow without a sword in their midriff.

“How out of hand? Victor, what happened?” an indistinct voice asked.

Zeydaan stumbled towards the conversation. They were disoriented, as if they were unused to having a body. After turning a corner, they realized they were behind Vic, who was completely unaware of their presence. With quiet steps, they began to sneak up behind him.

“I… Zeydaan-”

They threw their arm around Vic’s shoulder, casually draping themself on him. “-is just fine!” they interrupted.
Zeydaan felt Victor jump in surprise, the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end. He screamed, turning as pale as a sheet.

“Y-Y-You-You-” he stammered, unable to compose himself. “Me?” Zeydaan asked playfully.
Vic shuddered.

“I-I-I watched you fall into a dimensional rift.” “And I made it back just fine!”
The rest of the Hawkmoths began to laugh, taking delight in the circumstance. Zeydaan leaned in to Vic, and whispered with a cold, angry tone.

“I know what you did,” they hissed in a voice that wasn’t entirely their own.

Zeydaan smiled as Vic looked back at them, sheer terror expressed in his eye. They took their arm off Vic’s shoulder, patting his back. The gesture barely helped to comfort him, as he was shaking like a leaf under Zeydaan’s touch.

“Well, I’m gonna go for a walk,” they said, “I’ll be back later!”

With a wave, they stepped out of the base. As soon as they were alone, they felt an icy chill run up their spine.

“You felt it, didn’t you?”

The voice from the dimensional rift spoke to them once more.

“I know you did. You feel the same anger I do, that fate itself has been changed, interfered with, and know those who shouldn’t still be alive walk without punishment. This is what I brought you back for. To right the wrongs.”

“I… I don’t think I could.”

“Well here’s the thing. You don’t exactly have a choice here, Zeydaan Jem. I saved you. You now owe me. When I say this, it isn’t just an offhand remark. You feel the same as I do, because I said you do.”

A pit formed in their stomach. The voice’s tone had become more commanding and sinister. “What if I don’t want to?” Zeydaan demanded.
“Well, very simply, I would kill you. I’ll return you to the pitch black void I plucked your miserable soul from, where you could rot for all eternity. A fitting fate for someone who would back out of a deal struck.”

Zeydaan’s heart slowed, filling their veins with icy fear. Doubts swarmed their mind. Was this a mistake? Would it have been better to have just stayed in the dimensional rift? Who or what exactly did they make this deal with? Why did i-

“There’s the first of those who were fated to die. Do not let them slip away without correcting this.”
Snapping out of their deep thoughts, Zeydaan looked up. They had apparently been wandering during this conversation, and ended up just outside a café. A shiver ran down their spine, and an awareness that something was horribly, viscerally wrong.

The feeling only got stronger as they stepped inside. Behind the counter, a person worked hurriedly to fill orders. This woman was the source of the horrid feeling that now permeated Zeydaan’s form. It made them sick to their stomach.

“There it is, now you understand. Help me correct this.”

“How?” Zeydaan mumbled to herself, “I’m not exactly keen on offing someone in the middle of a coffee shop.”

“Just get close enough for my influence to take hold, and I’ll handle it.”

“Okay.” Zeydaan sighed.

They quietly joined in the line to place an order. As the line moved, the nausea intensified exponentially. A spark of frustration flared in their chest, fueled by a desire to make the terrible feelings plaguing them stop. As they stepped up to the counter, they had to steady themself with one hand. The woman behind the counter looked at them expectantly.

“What can I get you today?” She asked in an overwhelmingly chipper tone. “Could I just get a small, black coffee, please?”
“Sure! Can I get a name for the order?”

“Zeydaan,” they said, barely managing to keep it together.

With a half stumble, Zeydaan moved over to a small table, and put their head in their hands. Their attention landed on the café workers’ conversation.

“We’re out of coffee grounds!”

“Hey Micheal, can you take orders up front? I need to grind some more beans!” “Sure Linda, just be quick.”
Zeydaan watched Linda, the source of their nausea, enter a storage room. There was silence, then a whirring. Then a thud. Then a bloodcurdling scream. Zeydaan’s eyes slowly widened, realizing what had happened, as the feelings plaguing them faded.

“There’s the first one taken care of. “
Zeydaan felt a different sort of nausea. The feeling one gets when they realize they’ve made a horrible mistake. The storage room door was pushed open, wafting out the scent of blood.
Micheal, the other worker on duty, gasped. He gagged, and turned to the onlooking crowd. “Someone call an ambulance!”
Panic and chaos ensued as customers began to flee. Zeydaan got themself swept up in the madness, pulled from the café in the crowd. They managed to slip into an alley, where they collapsed.

“...fuck…”

“What’s wrong, my executor? Getting cold feet after your first brush with Death?”

Pin pricks rushed down their scalp. They gasped for air as their mouth ached. Relief clashed with panic, a sickening joy melded with deep discomfort.

“...How many more times do I have to do this?”

“Five souls remain unreaped. Five more must die.”

Adrenaline slammed through their veins, that made them burn with rage and frustration. “Fine! Fine! If it’ll get you off my back I’ll do it!”
More pin pricks scattered across their body as their emotions surged. With an uncharacteristically wicked laugh, they ran their claws through their hair. Some of it felt rougher than the rest. Must’ve slept on it weird. This wouldn’t be so bad, just get close to five more people, let the aura take hold, then leave. Easy.

“What a sudden change of heart! How delicious.”

That made them shudder. Their passenger was right, they had a very sudden shift of perspective. Maybe it was the adrenaline, or the relief in knowing that their first hurdle was clear. Perhaps it was something different. Deeper than they could even perceive.

“Where’s the next one?”

“I’m not omniscient. I have yet to locate another soul that escaped me.”

“Alright, what do I do then?”

“Be patient. There’s no telling how long it will be until we find the next one.”
Anger and frustration welled up inside them. A bizarre, newfound desire to finish what was started.

“Agh! I just want to get this done so I can get you out of my head!”

“Have I been that bad of a passenger?”

“You- You just-”

“Helped you pay off your debt to me. Did you forget? You owe me for saving your pitiful soul.”

“Why do I owe you so much? Who the fuck even are you!?”

“Have you not caught on yet, my dear host? Has the thought of who is inhabiting your body not crossed your mind until now? Did the reaping of a soul not even stir a single idea?”

Zeydaan’s heart froze. Their throat tightened.

“Ohhh so you do already know. Are you trying to deny it then? Trying to deny the truth? To spare yourself the pain? It’s not complex. You know who, or what, I am- and what you are.”

“...Death…”

Their voice wasn't entirely their own.

“The one and only.”

Zeydaan felt their knees grow weak. A sudden, gastly weight filled their mind. Their vision darkened. On a plane of shadowy, reflective glass stood a tall, silvery-white wolf. He wore a black, hooded cloak, and clutched a sickle in both of his claws. Zeydaan shrunk under his gaze, his red glowing eyes piercing through them.

“It’s a pleasure to finally speak face to face.”

Zeydaan’s jaw trembled. Their eyes unfocused. In wordless terror, they watched as Death approached them. They looked down at their shaking claws, but quickly found the tip of a sickle blade tilting their head up to meet Death’s gaze, his red sclera pulsed in time with his heartbeat.

“What’s wrong, Zeydaan Jem? You know I’m not here to take that miserable soul of yours from your chest.”

Fear still clamped Zeydaan’s throat closed. They couldn't even make a sound. Death leaned in even closer to Zeydaan, the mask-like pattern on his face becoming very prominent.
“Aww, what’s the matter? Cat’s got your tongue?”

A surge of defiance burst through Zeydaan. They grit their teeth, reaching up to pull the sickle away. Only to find their wrist caught in the crook of the second sickle.

“What did you think was going to happen? Arms down.”

Begrudgingly, Zeydaan obeyed. Death let out a deep, menacing chuckle.

“I’ve had enough of this little game,” Zeydaan shouted, frustration filling their voice, “what do you want from me?! Why are we here?! Where is here?!”

“Oh you’re upset? You aren't the disembodied spirit of an all-powerful entity forced to constrain himself into the pitiful shell of a mortal. I brought you here, into the depths of your own mind so that you could see this beautiful face of mine.”

“Okay, I’ve seen it, what’s your plan now, jerk?!”

“To teach you some manners!”

A red glow washed over Zeydaan.

“I am Death, and you are my vessel. As my vessel, you are to do as I say because I am Death. I want to make sure you get this through your thick skull before we set out after the remaining five souls to pay off your debt. You listen to Me. Understand?”

Zeydaan scowled.

“Fine. Whatever gets you out of my head fastest.”

“I assure you, cooperation with me is most beneficial. If you refuse, I can always send you back to the void I plucked you from.”

“You… won't have to…” Zeydaan trailed off, defeated.

With a deafening, cruel laugh, Death pulled his sickles away, as darkness filled Zeydaan’s vision once more. Pinholes of light bloomed into color, returning them to the alleyway they had stumbled into. They rose on uneasy footing, leaning against a brick wall.

“Zeydaan? Zeydaan!” A familiar voice cried out. “Here!” They shouted, letting out a deep sigh.
Rounding the corner was an anthro goat, probably one of the best people who could have shown up. It was their dear friend Asriel Reinsford.

“There you are! Someone said they saw you around here and I came looking. Are you alright?”

For a fleeting moment, they considered telling Asriel everything. About being possessed by Death. About how they were thrown into a dimensional rift. About being tangentially responsible for the death of that barista. Their passenger, however, stayed their tongue.

“I’m okay,” Zeydaan said behind a forced smile, “just a little rattled by what happened at the café.”

“I can tell. Just take some deep breaths, okay?”

Zeydaan closed their eyes, leaning heavily on the brick wall.

“You know I can hear your thoughts, right? Telling your little friend there about our deal would most certainly go poorly for the two of you.”

A frightened gasp escaped Zeydaan’s throat, causing Asriel to move closer. “What is it?” He prodded gently, “Are you alright?”
Truth or lie. Risk or safety.

“I… I think I left my phone back in the café.” “Oh! I’ll run and get that for you.”
“Thank you,” Zeydaan sighed.

“You are treading a dangerous path, Zeydaan Jem.”

“What if I am, huh?!”

“Then I will teach you what it means to play with fire.”

The following thirty seconds of silence were deafening, each moment passing slower than the last. Even Asriel’s movements seeming to be sluggish. As he approached, Zeydaan’s mouth spoke on its own.

“Y’know, I can't help somehow feel responsible, if only I'd been more directly involved maybe things would've gone differently.”
Asriel put a gentle hand on their shoulder.

“Survivor’s guilt, I get it. I promise you it wasn’t your fault. Just breathe, okay?”

Cautiously, with his other hand, Asriel handed Zeydaan their phone. He smiled at them, trying to be as calm as possible.

“It’s more than just survivor’s guilt,” Zeydaan’s mouth continued, “it’s a feeling of direct responsibility. This… This was my fault, and I could have stopped it.”

“Hey, you know that’s not true. It was a freak accident.”

Zeydaan wrestled for control of themself, doubling over. Death’s grip over them was tight, yet Zeydaan managed to shake loose.

“Zeydaan!?” Asriel exclaimed, watching his friend in horror.

After a moment of stunned silence, Zeydaan straightened upright. “I’m okay. Just… lost control of myself there for a minute.”
“I personally believe you were more in control than ever before, but I digress.”

Zeydaan scowled inwardly. They knew none of that was true.

“It’s alright,” Asriel said in a comforting voice, “I know none of that was true. Come on, let’s get you back to HQ.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sometimes, the passage of time is fast. Minutes fly by, hours pass without it feeling more than a couple seconds. Other times, it is slow. Every moment drawn out in agony. If one is really unlucky, time may bounce between the two extremes rapidly. Zeydaan groaned, staring at the hands of the clock on the wall. They could have sworn the hands had begun to move backwards. All they could do was wait, as Death was focused on finding the next missing soul. In his absence, Zeydaan felt… empty. Like a part of themself was missing. They counted each sluggish second, hoping for a swift-

“I return, O Vessel mine.”

A wave of relief washed over Zeydaan, followed by anger.

“What took you so long?! Why couldn't you just reap the soul while you were out?!”
“It took a greater period of time because I am not a bloodhound, and I could not reap the soul because I had no Vessel to spread my influence through. Shall we continue our questions, or are you done?”

Zeydaan bit their lip.

“Alright, where are we going?”

“Into the city, in a pillar of steel and glass, high above the world.”

“A skyscraper?”

“Yes.”

“That is decidedly unhelpful.”

“I will guide you, my Vessel. You need only trust me.”

“...We have already established why I don’t want to do that.”

“We have also established that you need to.”

There was a long pause. The tension was palpable. “...Fine, lead the way.”
Zeydaan rose from their bed, unsure how to follow Death’s guidance. For a moment, there was nothing. Then, a scent, as attractive as the sweetest honey. The smell itself was earthy, heavy, and slightly metallic. Zeydaan quickly found their body was beginning to chase the scent all on its own.

“Yes, your first quarry. Follow my guidance. Find your prey.”

As much as Zeydaan resented Death for saying that, it was remarkably easy to track the bizarre smell. They weaved in and out of strangers on the sidewalk, picking up speed the longer they followed the scent. Zeydaan was so focused on chasing the trail, that they ran full tilt into a door. Fortunately, the only thing that was damaged was their pride. They quickly jumped to their feet, brushing off some dirt.

“We are here. Somewhere in this building lies your quarry.”

“Okay, any tips on where to look?”

“My guidance will not lead you astray. Follow it.”
Zeydaan groaned, frustrated that their companion could not give them any more specific details. As they stepped into the lobby, a wave of the strange scent rushed through them. They drank it in for a moment, strange as it was, the smell was pleasant. With a confident stride, they made their way across the lobby, straight up to the lift.

Thankfully, the lift was empty. Zeydaan stepped in, then hesitated. Perhaps it would be better to take the stairs, since they had no idea where to start anyway. Before they could step back out or press any buttons, the lift beeped, and the doors closed. Someone had called it to another floor. The decision had been made for them.

Perhaps this was to their benefit. The lift was going all the way to the top floor. If they paid enough attention, they could tell what floor their quarry was on! Patiently, they stared at the floor number, waiting for the scent of their quarry to fade. With each passing floor, the smell grew stronger. Adrenaline began to course through them, the thrill of the hunt overtaking their rational consciousness.

It wasn’t until the lift reached the top floor that it stopped. As the lift's doors slowly rolled open, another wave of the scent hit Zeydaan like a freight train. They nearly stumbled back, caught off guard by the sheer strength of it.

“Oh!” A voice exclaimed, “I’m sorry, I’m not taking meetings right now.”

Zeydaan focused on the source of the voice. A rather pale man in a fancy suit with a black crew cut. He stepped into the lift next to Zeydaan, and pressed the first floor button.

“Quickly, depart this lift. I have marked our prey, Death will soon find him.”

There was one way out of any scenario, guaranteed. Faking nausea. Zeydaan cupped their mouth, and began frantically pressing the button for the nearest floor. The man in the elevator with them immediately took note of this, giving Zeydaan space. With a beep, the lift doors opened, and they bolted out. Behind them was a loud, haunting creek. Zeydaan looked back, locking eyes with the man inside the lift. Their right arm moved involuntarily, claw drawing a circle in the air.

SNAP!

Zeydaan watched the lift car plummet, screaming back to the first floor. Horror washed over them, in realization of what they had done.

“I-I just…”

BANG!
“...Reaped your first soul yourself.”

A red tinge filled their vision. Pinpricks rushed down their spine and scalp. Fear and exhilaration clashed, causing cascading confusion. Wild laughter began to fall from their maw, as the claws of guilty joy dug into their heart. An ache shrouded their mouth, their teeth sharpening into vicious points. Suddenly, they fell silent.

“Perhaps I underestimated you, O Vessel Mine.”

Somewhere, among the swirling mass of conflict in Zeydaan’s mind, hairline fractures began to form. Subtle, small, but ultimately could lead to a terrible shattering.

“I… I need to leave.”

They peeled themself off the tile floor and bolted to the stairwell. Zeydaan scrambled down the stairs, as if they could outrun what they had done. They burst through the doors at the bottom of the stairwell, looking out on a crowd frozen in terror.

It took Zeydaan a moment to notice that not a single eye fell upon them. Silently, they slipped out of the building. In a manic haze, they began to wander. Their gait was shuffling, aimless. Their mind churned on what had happened, what they had done. This time, it was not squarely Death’s fault. This time, they had done the deed. This time, Zeydaan Jem had killed someone.

Without warning, they tripped, landing squarely on the bank of a pond. Zeydaan peered down the water, staring deeply at her reflection. Most of the fur on their muzzle had become white. The very edges of their iris had become a deep crimson. Their teeth had all sharpened to a
dagger-like point.

"Admiring yourself, Vessel?" Zeydaan was quietly contemplative. "How… How did this happen?"
"You channeled my power to Reap a soul. Of course you, my dear Vessel, would not escape unscathed."

"Does this last forever?"

"As long as we are bound, Vessel. I'm sure a little white fur isn't worse than abyssal oblivion."

That much was true. Some color changes here and there… probably better than the alternative. The alternative being something far worse than death. A yawning void awaited them if they
backed out. It felt like standing on the precipice of some great chasm, doing everything they could to keep the wind from knocking them careening into the depths.

"So… what now?" Zeydaan asked, rising from the pond's edge.

"Four souls remain, in need of being reaped. Four more hunts. It falls on your shoulders to find our next quarry."

"What?! Why!?"

"You have channeled my power, we are more bound than before. I cannot depart this body as easily as I once could."

"Well, I-I'll just unchannel you! I can do that, right?"

"Hmhmhm, that is not possible."

"Well, why not?!"

"Your soul has been tainted by death… In simple terms, your soul is Mine. Were I to leave your body now, I would take your soul with me."

"...oh."

"Worry not, O Vessel mine. You've tracked a quarry before, I have every confidence in you to find our next soul."

"Okay but where do I-"

On the breeze, like a faint whisper, came the scent of their next quarry. From just that one hint, all the fur on Zeydaan's neck stood on end. Their pupils
dilated, their body suddenly putting itself into fight or flight.

"The Hunt Begins."

Zeydaan bent their head down slightly, drinking in the scent. Had they been craving it? Desiring to hunt, to stalk their prey. Briefly, they leaned down to the ground, digging their claws into the grass.

"I-Zeydaan!?"

In a wild panic, they glanced behind them. The source of the voice was their dear friend Asriel, who looked disturbed and horrified. Zeydaan swiftly straightened up.
"Asriel! I uh, didn't see you there."

"What was that?! What were you doing?!" "Uh, new stretching technique, saw it online." "You were growling!"
Zeydaan knew the lies were piling up. "I was clearing my throat."
"Be honest with me Zeydaan. Please."

"You know what you risk with the truth."

"I know something happened with Victor- You've been off ever since," Asriel continued, "could you please just talk to me?"

"The abyss will be your fate should you speak." The two voices were becoming overwhelming. "Zeydaan, please. Come with me."
"If you follow him, you walk to your doom."

Zeydaan doubled over, clutching their head.

"I want to help you, Zeydaan. Let me help you." "The hunt calls, Zeydaan, and you must answer." "I'm your friend, I'm not going to hurt you."
"He cannot know. Do not speak with him further."

"AAAAA! SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP!! BOTH OF YOU SHUT UP!!" Zeydaan screamed,
claws pressing into their skull.

Asriel recoiled with a gasp. Even Death himself seemed startled. With a frenzied gaze, Zeydaan looked towards Asriel. They had never seen such fear in his eyes. Shame washed over them, and in a panic, they fled. Tears blurred their vision. They cared not for how long they ran, only that they would get as far away from Asriel as they could.
How could they treat their dear friend like that? Snapping angrily at him like a wild dog. Zeydaan was not some cornered, feral beast whose life was being threatened. Their actions were wholly out of line, and they knew it. They were angry about how they acted, how quickly they were overwhelmed.

"Vessel! Calm yourself! Be STILL!"

Zeydaan's legs froze from under them, causing them to trip. As they lay on the ground, darkness enveloped them. Out from the inky blank, Death appeared, standing over Zeydaan.

"Well? Are you just going to lay there, vessel? Stand up!"

Despite very much not wanting to listen to the whims of Death, their body followed the command without fail. They scowled at the pale wolf.

"What do you have to say for yourself?"

"Asriel is my friend," Zeydaan growled, "and I don't appreciate you telling me what I can and can't say to my friend."

"I can't have you spilling your guts to him!"

"Ohhh, is the all-powerful Death scared of a goat doctor?" Death snarled, pulling Zeydaan close with a sickle.
"Our bond will remain secret whether you tell him or not. Of course, we both wouldn’t like to be witness to his death, would we?”

A spike of ice cold fear pierced Zeydaan's heart. "You wouldn't dare."
"Do. Not. Doubt. Death."

Defeated, they backed down, shrinking away from Death. He let out a deep chuckle, pulling Zeydaan ever closer.

"You are my vessel, never forget that."

His words hung in the tense air. The darkness slowly faded from Zeydaan's eyes. Once more they found themself on the ground, staring up at the sky, dazed. Zeydaan sucked in a deep breath, expecting to pick up the trail of their next quarry.
There it was, like a whisper on the breeze. If nothing else, at least it was reliable. Carefully, Zeydaan rose to their feet, drinking in the scent. Their senses sharpened as they uncaged the primal beast in their heart. Zeydaan let loose a deep bellow, and dashed off in the direction of the trail.

Four more souls. That was all that was needed. Four more, and then Death would release Zeydaan. They kept this in mind as they arrived at what they assumed was the site of their next reaping: a… used car dealership.

Zeydaan was briefly taken aback. This dealership was new, of that they were sure. Not all of the cars had been taken off the trucks. Maybe this would be easier than they thought. They crouched slightly, and began to stalk the lot, following the scent trail. Their quarry was here, there was no mistaking that.

"Jake! Are you gonna fucking sign for these cars or what?!"

The person driving the truck shouted at the lone building in the center of the dealership. A voice called back, turse and frustrated.

"I told you not to swear on my lot, Curtis! Keep your pants on, I'm closing a deal!"

A moment later, Zeydaan watched a middle-aged shiba-inu leave the center building, approaching the rear of the truck. This was it, the opportunity was served to them on a silver platter. They raised their hand up, drawing a circle in the air around one of the cars on the top of the cargo trailer. As Jake reached the back of the truck, there was a loud screech. He looked up in fear.

CRUNCH!

An SUV had become unstuck, rolling backwards off the cargo trailer. It had fallen roughly four and a half meters, landing squarely on the salesman. The truck driver was frozen stiff, having been standing near the car as it fell and crushed Jake into a paste.

"C-can someone call an ambulance!" cried the truck driver, finally shaking himself free of the paralysis.

Zeydaan skulked away, creeping into the treeline. The second they were alone, warm static erupted across their body, followed by pin pricks. A sharp pain burst from the top of their skull, one familiar to Zeydaan. A growing pain. Their claws wrapped around their muzzle, forcing a wicked laugh to stifle. In this madness, a truth had become clear to Zeydaan, unveiled by the deepening of their bond with Death.

The guiding hand that had been leading them to their prey was not simply the power of death guiding them. It was the smell of their quarry's fear. These souls had a fear buried deep down
below their consciousness, an ingrained fear that Death would come to claim them, to correct the error. With freshly heightened senses, Zeydaan drank in the scent of fear. Their emotions smelled so sweet, they couldn't stand it.

This wild joy in their heart was so viscerally appealing. They had doubted this for so long. But now, bathed in the enjoyment of the hunt… why had they ever feared the consequences of this bond? Why hadn't they embraced this sooner? As soon as the feelings arrived, they began to fade. Zeydaan needed more.

"Finally, vessel, you serve me willingly. Continue the hunt."

Drawing in a deep breath, they picked up the trail of the next quarry. They were close by. Zeydaan turned back to the lot. How fortunate was this? Another soul to reap was there, just waiting for Death's vessel.

Amidst the onlookers who were watching the ambulance arrive on the lot was a posh hag of a woman. This vain ghoul was her quarry, there could be no mistaking it. Vessel could practically see the miasmic fear cloud swirling around her fur coat. They snarled at their quarry through the brush, and began to stalk closer.

Zeydaan made sure to keep from sight as they snuck back onto the lot. This soul had arrived on the scene in a very fancy car. Well kept, clean, and more expensive than every other car on the lot combined.

"Oh miss Shibaluki, I'm so glad you're here," the truck driver said, "I-It's your husband, he's-" "Dead," the dog replied.
"I-It was an accident I-"

"Oh don't worry too much. We had an incredible insurance policy on him. Speaking of, I'm going to go claim that now."

As suddenly as their prey had arrived, she turned back from the SUV that crushed her husband, climbed back into her car, and started to leave the lot. Vessel growled, this one could not be allowed to escape. The car drove right by Zeydaan, who stared the hag dead in the eyes as they drew a circle around the car in the air.

BOOM!

That fancy, multimillion dollar car the hag was driving exploded. Vessel snuck away, cackling to themself. As they broke through the treeline, the cackles turned into maddened, full chest laughter. Euphoria filled their head, as another wave of pin pricks and static washed over their body. Zeydaan growled as they gripped their horns.
It only now occurred to them that their horns had been experiencing some strange growth spurts. Now, they were much larger, nearly curling down to their shoulders. As they contemplated when this had happened, the red tint at the edges of their vision slowly expanded, smothering their sight. Then, it was gone.

"Yes, only two souls remain."

"Two more…" Vessel echoed, "I almost pity that our deal will come to an end. I've come to enjoy it."

"You've seen the error of your old ways. You were always fated to be an instrument of Death. Now, you have embraced that truth."

Death's words stirred a myriad of emotions deep within Zeydaan. Before any of them could rise to a coherent thought, the scent of fear clouded their senses and mind. The earthy, heavy smell of fear… Vessel loved it almost as much as they loved the hunt. Their quarry's fear guided their steps once more.

Out of the woods, down the road, to an intersection that had recently been hit by a blackout. In the center of the crossroads was a police officer, directing traffic. Zeydaan grinned, watching him intently. This would be so easy. There was a nearby construction site. All they needed was… that!

A semi-truck carrying a large supply of metal pipes, so many that they were piled above the cab. Perfect. Vessel drew a circle in the air around the truck, and waited. With sudden, violent acceleration, the truck lurched forward, speeding into the intersection. Fortunately, it managed to stop just before the police officer.

CLANG!

The truck had stopped, but the pipes it was carrying didn't. The cab kept most of them from flying forward. Most of them. The five sat just above the cab kept moving forward. Then down. The police officer who was directing traffic watched the pipes slide down the front of the cab, piercing through him at high speeds. He was skewered before he could even react.

Vessel snuck into a nearby alleyway, barely containing a joyful howl. Their claws clutched their growing horns, desperately holding on to them as their body quaked. Flesh and bone stretched, adding on to Vessel's height. It was only uncomfortable for a fleeting moment, as their head was filled with bliss at the thought that their body had nearly become a perfect mirror of the image of Death.

They released their horns, slowly standing to their new, full height. This Vessel was incomplete. One soul remained. Once that soul was reaped… Vessel shuddered to think of what would
happen. A cackling laugh rolled out of their maw. Joy bubbled up their spine. Death and the Vessel would be one.

"Find your last wayward soul, O Vessel mine. Our pact will be complete."

"Yes, yes! One final soul, and the error will be corrected."

Vessel leaned down to the ground, searching for the smell of fear. It was faint, very distant. Their quarry was a good distance away from them. This was no issue. Vessel had the trail, that was all they needed. With a howl, they began to sprint towards the source of the scent, so swiftly that it seemed like they were gliding. Wind rushed through their now coarse, white fur, bringing a toothy grin to their muzzle. They would find that soul in no time flat.

Vessel didn't pay attention to any of the signs as they barged into the building that the trail led to. Gasps and screams echoed behind them. They flew down a set of stairs, and burst into the room with their prey. A morgue. How fitting. A single person stood alone in the center of the room. Zeydaan's dear friend Asriel. Recognition caused hesitation. Asriel turned to face them, letting out a soft gasp.

"Zeydaan? Is that you?"

Vessel growled, gasped, grappled for control.

"I'll admit," he continued, slowly approaching Zeydaan, "I knew something was happening, but not what."

"I-I…" Zeydaan's words caught in their throat.

"You are so close, my Vessel! Finish it! Kill him!"

"You're in pain," Asriel gently laid a hand on the side of Zeydaan's face, "I can help you." "No, you cannot," Vessel growled.
"Do you truly believe that you are beyond saving?"

"You are my Vessel! Nothing can change that now!"

Vessel snarled and swiped a claw at Asriel, who jumped back in response.

"You need to listen to me, Zeydaan. No matter what you've done, no matter what has happened, you can still come back from this."
"Six souls…" Vessel started to approach Asriel, "Five have already been reclaimed. All except you."

Panic flashed in Asriel's eyes. Vessel shuddered, the scent of fear acting like chum in the waters.

"It is too late for this Vessel," Death's words flowed out from his Vessel's grinning maw, "And it is too late for you."

"Y-You don't have to do this," Asriel stammered.

"Oh but I must," Death continued, approaching the goat, "for you see, you were destined to die. As Death, I must correct that. And for that to happen, I've got to pull that miserable soul of yours from your body!"

Vessel wrapped their claws around Asriel's body, lifting him up. "Zeydaan!" Asriel pleaded.
With a wild howl, Vessel threw Asriel into the morgue's incinerator. Their claws trembled as they drew a circle in the air around the incinerator. The flames quickly rose, swallowing Asriel's silhouette. Death threw their head back laughing and howling. Pain swelled across their body. A perfect image of Death. Pure white, coarse fur. Sleek black claws. Eyes of crimson red.

"Finally, oh finally, it's sooo good to be back," Death growled, admiring himself, "and this Vessel turned out so well."

"There is only one thing left to do," said the Vessel, "repay the one who started this all."

"Funny, I was thinking the same thing."

Death hummed to himself as he left the morgue. Now that the Vessel was complete, only those who were destined to die could see them. While many within these walls feared Death, none of them needed to be reaped. For now.

They were focused on a singular task. To repay a blood debt. Death arrived at the entrance to the Hawkmoth's base, just as someone was leaving. The exact someone they were looking for.

"Victor Powers," Death snarled.

"D-Do I know you?" he replied, turning pale.

"Oh of course you. The rider of the pale horse? The fate of all fools? The black cloaked specter?"
"Your voice… Zeydaan?"

"So you recognize the Vessel." "What happened to you?"
"What do you think, Victor," the Vessel spoke on its own, "I was spared by Death. You altered fate, and I was punished for it! But now, your little hero act has been corrected, now Death and I are one. And you will finally get your due."

"You… are going to kill me?"

"I'm going to repay the same kindness you extended to me on the day I died."

Death reached up, gripping onto the Vessel's horns.

CRACK!

They shattered off rather easily. With a press of his influence, the long, curved horns transformed into his signature sickles. A cruel smile spread across his muzzle.

"I take no pleasure in killing those who do not deserve it…" Death started.

"But you do," the Vessel finished.

With a flash of red, Death darted towards Vic, who caught Death's initial cross slash with his sword.

"No! I will not fall to the likes of you, you-you freak!"

"Oh, that's not a nice way to address your former rival!"

Vic pushed out of the clash, causing Death to step back. Capitalizing on the break, Vic slashed upward confidently. He failed utterly, not a single fiber of the Vessel's fur had been split. Death landed a few feet back, spinning his sickles. With a shout, Vic charged, bringing his sword in a wide arc. Death ducked under, slamming the heel of his sickles into Vic's stomach.

Victor screamed, enraged that this non-human would dare fight him. He made a wild slash, loosening his grip for extra range. In response, Death hooked Vic's sword, and disarmed him. With his other sickle, Death pulled Vic in close.

"What are you going to do now, hero?"
"Y-You can't do this to me, Zeydaan!"

"Pleading to those who you've wronged won't save your miserable soul!" Vessel screamed. "You should have stayed in the dimensional rift I threw you into! I did it to save people!" "And look how well that turned out. No one can cheat Death, Victor, not even you."
"Zey-"

Victor's head tumbled from his shoulders, still contorted in an angry scream. Death chuckled, knocking it aside. The Vessel and Death were finally one, united. They could not rest though, for there were many souls to reap. Death began to whistle to himself as he walked from the lifeless corpse of Victor Powers.