Deathless

Chapter 38: Jackson

The Keres aren't gentle creatures—they're the scavengers of war, vultures who feast on the flesh of those dying by violence and right now, they're starving.

Death banished them here a century ago when they went out of their way, not just to feed off those already dying but to end the lives of those with a chance to live, ignoring Death's Plan to sate their own insatiable hunger. I loathe them—they stink of death and decay but more than that, the sharp pungent scent of terror, of festering wounds, of emptied bowels. Their rotting wings, like moth-chewed curtains, the rags that cover their skeletal forms, waxy pale skin and black hair that hangs dead and lank around their shoulders. The only thing that looks alive is their eyes, burning amber orbs that radiate with greed.

They lead us, talons digging uncomfortably into our flesh as we walk through a grand hallway. Along the wall is a great tapestry, golden and intricate, more beautiful than anyone can imagine. Each stitch tells a story, each thread a life, and a death.

I know where we're going.

I turn to Millie, her body stiff and rigid. I can tell she's biting her lip to control her fear, but she won't give them what they want. They want her weak. They want her crying and whimpering, but she walks straight and proud. Pride bursts like fireworks inside me.

The hallway opens into a grand room—creamy stone pillars intricately carved with stories of old, on the floor, more carvings, more stories. There's no ceiling. The pillars lead upwards, leading to nothing but a clear and crystal sky. Surrounding the space, vines and plants grow, winding around the pillars, blooming ruby flowers filling the air with an overpowering sweet fragrance.

I look ahead. On a raised platform they sit, watching as we approach. More Keres appear on either side of us as they lead us closer. Growling and cackling, their eyes flashing as tar-like blood drips from their needle-sharp teeth. One gnashes her teeth in Millie's direction, making her jump. Millie recovers, narrowing her eyes at the beast, baring her own white teeth. My chest swells—my fearless, beautiful girl.

"We knew you'd come," a sweet voice calls from the platform, before breaking out into a youthful giggle. The Keres stop pushing us forward, standing behind us instead, their claws digging into our backs.

The Moirai eye us curiously. Millie turns to look at me, her eyes full of questions.

"Millie, meet the Moirai. Clotho, Lachesis and Atropos, meet Millie."

"What a charming introduction," Lachesis says dryly before stepping forward, looking at us in fascination. She uses her measuring rod as a cane, her face somehow young and beautiful but also ancient and terrifying. Her robes drag across the ground, faded and scorched from the sun.

"You broke the rules, little reaper." Clotho sings from beside her spindle, her bloodied fingers hanging restlessly by her side, the tips of her fingers just polished bone.

"He thought he could deceive us, that we would be easily tricked, but he was the one who was fooled." Atropos steps forward, her silver eyes wide like coins as she stares at us with amusement. Her pale blonde hair, the colour of milk, flows like liquid down her back. Like her sisters, she would be beautiful if she wasn't so petrifying. She drags her shears along the ground, the metal shrieks against the stone.

"Tut-tut, little reaper, tut-tut." Clotho coos. "Look at our sister's shears." Atropos lifts them, and they fall apart in her hands, clanging as they hit the ground. "You broke the world, little reaper. All for a little mortal..."

They stare hard at me.

"I know what I did. That's why I came to the island, so I can find Death's device to control time and I can put things right."