Eternal Part 4: Death

Below is the final part of my short story. I hope you've all enjoyed reading it. Please, let me know. Any feedback is good feedback!

If you haven't read it yet, you can start with Part 1 here.

And, if you missed it last week, Part 3 is here.

Thanks for reading everyone.

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Death

            Jenya had never come home…

            Calish hurried after the cloaked figure. He ran out the door of his cottage and into the street of the village. As he stepped into the street the figure was nowhere to be seen, but he noticed a crowd of people gathering together further down the street. He made his way towards them.

As he came closer he began noticing familiar faces amongst them. These were the people he’d lived his life in the village with. He knew them all, of course, yet it still felt strange to be amongst them without really being there.

Closer still and he began seeing their expressions clearly. None of them looked happy. Some stood shocked, while others stood back, sombre. A few had even fallen to their knees, crying into their hands. Even closer and he began to hear snippets of conversation.

“…poor girl…”

“First Calish, and now…”

“What will happen to their daughter…”

“…below freezing last night…”

“…sick as well…”

“She must have collapsed…”

“How horrible…”

He ignored the voices as he drifted through the crowd and came out the other side. The sight on the road just ahead of him stopped him in his tracks. There, on her back in the snow, lay his wife. The physician knelt on the ground next to her as he checked for signs of life. Calish knew he was wasting his time. He could tell just by looking at her. His wife, Jenya, had died last night.

Just beyond Jenya’s body, with his back to Calish, the cloaked figure knelt on the ground. Calish could just see the head of a body being held in his hands. No, not a body, a spirit Calish realised as he recognised Jenya.

Her eyes were open yet she didn’t seem aware of where she was or what had just happened. She seemed to be in a sort of trance and Calish remembered the disorientation he’d first felt when he entered this world. The figure started to draw Jenya closer in towards him, wrapping his arms more securely around her.

Calish’s thoughts went to their daughter, how she’d now be without parents, and he acted without hesitation. He couldn’t see his daughter left alone.

“Jenya!” he cried out, “You need to live again. Don’t let him take you. Our daughter needs you.”

            The cloaked figure turned to look back at Calish just as Jenya’s eyes blinked as awareness flooded back into her. The figure then turned back to Jenya, once again pulling her close. Jenya, seeing Calish, began to struggle in his grip.

            “Calish? Calish!” she cried out, tears running down her face, “Oh, my Calish. I thought you were dead. Where have you been?”

            “Jenya, my love, please. You need to live again. For me, for our daughter. Don’t let him take you. Tell him you’re not ready,” Calish begged.

            “Not ready?” Jenya asked, looking confused. She looked around her, at the grey world Calish had come to know as home, “Where am I? Who are you?” Jenya looked at the figure, seeming to notice it for the first time.

            In answer, the figure lifted the hood of his cloak slightly. It wasn’t enough for Calish to see what was beneath, but it was enough for Jenya. She reached up and touched the face beneath the cloak as her tears came to a stop.

            “You’re beautiful,” she said to the figure, “So beautiful. I’m glad.” Calish watched in horror as she wrapped her arms around the figure. The figure pulled her even closer, and Calish watched as his wife began to dissolve away into his dark cloak. With a cry of sorrow and rage, Calish rushed forward.

            “Get away from her!” he cried out. Calish stumbled through the figure and Jenya’s fading spirit. He allowed himself to fall to the street below as tears fell down his face and landed as drops of shadow on the ground below.

            When he turned again to face the figure his wife was gone and his cloak was firmly back in place. The figure stayed crouched to the ground for moments that stretched on like ages and Calish stood there watching, waiting for the silence to be broken. He couldn’t bring himself to talk.

            The greatest of sorrows flowed through Calish. His wife had been taken from him, before he’d even had a chance to really talk to her again. He glared at the figure. He’d taken her from him without a chance to say goodbye. He’d taken her from their daughter, when she needed her parents so much.

            Eventually the figure stood. He took a glance at Calish, seeing the pain, sorrow and anger drawn out on his face.

            “Dead is dead, Calish. We can’t change that, as much as we’d like to. I’m sorry, but at least she’s where she belongs now,” the figure said.

            “How can you be so callous?” Calish spat, “Have you seen so much death you’ve become desensitized to suffering?”

            “You misjudge me. Don’t think for a moment that I have not tried to also reverse death, or to hold on to the ones I love. I have loved and lost just as much as you. Every death is sad to me, but I know that it is better I move them on to the next world than let them remain in this shadow place,” the figure answered.

            “Then why won’t you let me leave here?” Calish asked.

            “Because I cannot,” the figure said, then began walking past Calish, heading towards another house in the village. He paused as he drew level with Calish, “You’ll have your chance to say goodbye one day Calish.”

            The cloaked figure resumed his walk to the next house. Calish stood silent as he walked away, deep in his thoughts, distracted by sadness. He turned around at one point to see if the figure was still there, but he’d vanished away into the shadows once more. Calish felt more alone than ever before.

           

            Calish wasn’t sure how long he remained standing in the street. Eventually, however, he returned to his cottage. His wife may have been gone, but his daughter still lived. He needed to see if she pulled through. He needed her to pull through.

            To his horror, Calish couldn’t find her anywhere in his cottage. He checked every room, trying to ignore the creeping fear that she’d died while he was gone and the cloaked figure had already taken her. She wasn’t anywhere to be found.

            Calish forced himself to be calm and think about the situation. He realised that everyone in the village would have known Lyrial would now be parentless. She’d probably been taken by one of their neighbours, where they’d now be caring for her. Or, she was still suffering from the disease, perhaps the physician had taken her in while she recovered.

            Sure enough, the physician’s was where Calish found her. His daughter was lying on a cot in a room out the back of the physician’s store. Her chest rose and fell with laboured breaths as she stared up at the ceiling. Calish could tell that she’d been told about her mum just from looking at her. The fight seemed to have left her body and the disease seemed more in control than ever.

            It broke Calish’s heart just looking at her. More than ever he wished he could just hold her and take her sadness into him. Once again he placed his hand over hers, hovering without contact.

            Calish sat with her for the rest of the day. A few times the physician came in with some food and water. He tried to get her to eat, but his daughter was unresponsive. Calish felt that something deep inside of her had broken.

            Night fell, and Lyrial fell into a restless sleep once more. Calish kept his hand over hers as she tossed and turned. He cried into the night, lost in thoughts of his family, wishing they could all be together once more. He wished that none of this had ever happened. He hated the world he was trapped in. He barely noticed when Lyrial seemed to calm, the dreams seemingly stopped.

            He thought about the cloaked figure. He wanted to hate him, for all he’d put Calish through, but found that he couldn’t. Surely the cloaked figure had been trapped in this world even longer than Calish did. Calish didn’t know how being alone in this world for such a long time could start to effect someone. He wouldn’t exactly be used to company.

            He cried for his wife. How he’d brought suffering to her by dying in battle. He should have stayed home, ignored the king’s call for soldiers. At the time though Calish felt he was doing the right thing, fighting to protect his family. Perhaps if he’d stayed he’d also be dying with disease now too. At least his family would have been together though.

            At some point in the night Calish suddenly noticed his hand was clasping something solid. He looked at his hand, feeling his daughter’s in it. Actually feeling his daughter’s hand. He couldn’t help but laugh a little in joy.

            He glanced at Lyrial just as she opened her eyes. She looked around, dazed at first, then noticing Calish. She could actually see him. Calish was more than glad.

            “D-dad?” she croaked out.

            “Yes, yes Lyrial, it’s me,” Calish said, smiling at his daughter.

            “We thought you were dead. I’m happy you’re not,” she beamed up at him. She paused, remembering, “Oh, but mum… They told me mum died last night. She was sick as well.” Her expression turned downward and a tear trickled down her face.

            “Yes, mum’s gone. But, she’ll be alright. She’s somewhere safe now, where she’ll never get sick again,” Calish said as he brushed the tear off her face.

            “I’m happy you’re alive though. I was scared something bad had happened to you when your flower never bloomed,” she said, looking back to Calish.

            Calish leant forward, picking up his daughter and sitting her in his lap. He wrapped his arms around her, holding her spirit close. In the cot, Lyrial’s body lay, peaceful in death. It was as he’d begun to fear. His daughter was dead too.

            “It’ll just be you and me now,” he whispered to her, holding her close, trying not to cry. Lyrial wrapped her arms around her father’s neck, hugging him back.

            “I’m glad. I was scared I’d be alone dad. I’ve never been so scared before, and I was so sick.”

            “It’s okay now. I’ll never leave you again,” he cried. Shadows of tears began to fall, tumbling shadows through Lyrial’s fading body. Calish held her closer as she began to dissolve into Calish.

            “I do wish mum was here too,” Lyrial said, beginning to sound distant.

            “You’ll be with her soon. We’ll all be together again soon. I love you, my daughter,” Calish said, the tears flowing uncontrollably now. Lyrial looked up to Calish, almost entirely gone now.

            “I love you too, dad,” she said, vanishing into the next world. Calish let himself cry. He didn’t care how long he sat there for.

            Eventually the tears stopped. The sorrow, while it never faded, became bearable in a way. It still hurt to think of them, he was still sad they were gone, but it was time for answers. When he lifted his head, becoming aware once more of the world around him, Calish was unsurprised to see the cloaked figure in the room with him. Calish still sat on the edge of the cot. Lyrial’s body had been removed some time ago. He hadn’t noticed when it happened. The figure stood in the middle of the room, watching as he always did.

            “Did I wrong you in some way that you’d keep me trapped between worlds watching those I love not only suffer at my death, but suffer through their own as well?” Calish demanded of the figure.

            “No,” the cloaked figure answered, “It’s nothing like that at all.”

            “Then why, why, won’t you let me move on? Let me be with my family. Please. I’ve had enough,” Calish pleaded.

            “I’ve told you before, Calish, I cannot. Believe me, how I wish I could,” answered the figure.

            “Why not? You keep saying that you can’t, but you never tell me why you can’t. Or, can’t you tell me that either?”

            “Calish, you moved your daughter on to the next world. You did what I do.”

            “So is that it? You can’t move me to the next world because I seem to have the same powers that you do.”

            “That’s part of the reason, but not the whole reason.”

            “Am I to be stuck here forever?”

            “No. I don’t think so.”

            “You know, I’m sick of you speaking in half answers. Why can’t you just be clear with me?” Calish asked, standing up, “I’m leaving here. I don’t want to ever see you again until you’re ready to help me see my family.”

            Closing his eyes, Calish pictured a place far away from this village. Focusing on the image in his mind, he vanished far, far away.

            “I can’t break the cycle. I’m sorry Calish,” the figure spoke to the empty room before also vanishing.

            For years, Calish walked. He journeyed through grey landscapes in the shadow of worlds. His only companion for all this time was his thoughts. He jumped back and forth, thinking of all that had happened, and all that could have been.

            He passed spirits of the dead, lost amongst the grey as well. He ignored the lost souls. They were likely dead not yet ready to move onto the next world. How he envied them. They can’t have hated this dark world as much as he did then if they wanted to stay.

            At times he thought he saw the cloaked figure in the distance, watching him. When he looked closer, however, he was never there. Calish would then often shout into the emptiness, challenging the figure to reveal himself to move Calish on or make himself scarce. He never appeared.

            He journeyed into cities. Large, empty streets. The living didn’t belong in this world, and he had no connection to anyone living in them to be able to see them. The big empty cities felt strange to him, so he began to avoid them, sticking to the open countryside. Out there, being the only person around didn’t feel so strange.

            As he walked through the world thoughts began to arrange themselves in his head as emotion cooled. He reflected on all that had happened to him in this world, on the nature of this world, and he realised what he had to do.

            He stopped walking, pictured a familiar location, and vanished into thin air.

            When he reappeared he found himself in a valley, tall mountains rearing up on each side. This valley, years ago, had been the location of a great battle. A battle where Calish had lost his life.

            Calish glanced at the spot where the arrow had pierced his body. Sure enough, the cloaked figure was standing there, waiting for him. Calish walked towards him.

            “You must hate this place as much as I do. You must want to move on as much as I do,” Calish called out to the figure.

            “Yes,” the figure responded. Then he laughed a little, “Indeed I do.”

            “It isn’t my time to move on to the next world, and you can’t move me on. You’ve made that much clear over all these years. But, I can move you on to the next world, can’t I? And it is your time?” Calish continued.

            “I believe so, yes,” the figure responded.

            “Then, are you ready to move on to the next world?” Calish asked. The figure was silent for the longest of times. He bowed his head and Calish caught a few drops of tears, turning to shadow before they hit the ground. After what seemed like days, or perhaps just a couple of minutes, the figure raised his head once more.

            “Yes,” he said, sounding relieved, “I am ready to move on.”

            Saying nothing, Calish stepped forward, arms open. The cloaked figure stepped forward to meet him, falling into his open arms. The figure collapsed to his knees, and Calish followed him down, wrapping his arms around him and pulling the figure close.

            Calish watched as the figure began to fade, dissolving into him. As he dissolved away, Calish noticed a faint shadow begin to form around his own body. The more the figure faded, the more solid this shadow became. Before long it had begun to take the form of the cloak worn by the figure.

            The figure, too faded to make out any features, looked up at Calish as the last bits of him moved to the next world.

            “Thank you, Calish,” he said before vanishing entirely.

            Calish stood, pulling the hood of the cloak up over his head. Immediately he was overwhelmed by a new sense. He sensed locations in his mind, locations where he felt he should be. Locations where he was needed.

            He shut his eyes, focused on one of these locations and vanished.

            Countless years passed and countless spirits were moved to the world between worlds. Calish learnt how to move backwards and forwards through time as various spirits called to him, ready to be moved on to the next world. He was kept busy, but with control over time he could always find a few moments, or an eternity, to spend to himself.

            He didn’t dwell too much on the past anymore. He still thought about his family, of course, and hoped they were safe. However, he’d long come to terms that this was now his life. It wasn’t much, but at least he knew he was helping people. For every spirit he helped move to the next world it made his eternal existence in this one a little easier to bear.

            One day, a day much like any other, Calish felt himself pulled towards the location of a large battle. Two armies were clashing so he knew he’d be kept busy with spirits for a while.

            He set about his task, helping souls ready to move on depart to the next world. He gave those souls that weren’t yet ready the time they needed to come to terms with where life had led them. Eventually, they’d be ready. It was always the case.

            He came to the body of a dead soldier, much like any other soldier. An arrow wound, it looked like. He bent down, ready to embrace the dead man’s soul, and stopped. He looked at the dead soldier, stood up, and smiled.

            “I see now. It makes sense. I understand. The moment has come. Truly, death is timeless…” Calish walked away, moving towards the next body.

            Truly, death is timeless…

            Elsewhere, in a village far away both in distance and time, a small, orange flower bloomed in a garden in front of an empty cottage.

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The end. Again, thank you so much for reading.

Eternal Part 3: Life

If you haven't started yet, part 1 is here.

And, if you missed it, part 2 is here.

And, now, here is part 3:

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Life

            Life is frailty. In a blink of an eye it can be over. The passage of time is endless. The cycle of seasons is unchanging. Life is but a brief spark in the movement of the universe. Death is forever.

            In the living world two years had passed since Calish’s death. In the pale imitation of the world Calish now occupied it seemed much longer. His only respite from the monotony of his prison was being able to watch his loved ones. It wasn’t easy, but it was something.

            He watched his daughter, Lyrial, standing in front of the house which used to be his home. She gazed down at a tiny, flowerless plant sitting alone in the garden. Calish’s Soul Flower. The plant hadn’t bloomed in two years and, so long as Calish remained in the world between, it never would.

            His wife, Jenya, returning from the village market, walked up the path leading to the house. She stopped next to Lyrial and placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. Her other hand held a basket full of bread and vegetables. She pulled her daughter in close.

            “Why doesn’t dad’s plant have a flower yet?” Lyrial asked softly as she leant against her mother for comfort.

            Jenya was silent for a moment, thinking, before answering. “Maybe your dad isn’t ready to go to the next world yet.”

            “Do you think he’s waiting for us? I bet he doesn’t want to go alone,” Lyrial said, looking up at her mother. Jenya smiled down at her.

            “Perhaps he is,” she responded. “He could be waiting patiently, keeping an eye on us while he does.”

            “I don’t think he should wait, mum. We can find him there later. I want him to be comfortable first,” Lyrial said thoughtfully. Jenya ruffled Lyrial’s hair.

            “I think he’d be happy to hear you say that. Now, let’s get inside. You’re going to help me cook today, remember?” Jenya gave her a light push, urging her daughter towards the house.

            “Okay!” Lyrial said, running to the house and going inside. Jenya stayed a few moments longer, looking at the plant.

            “Oh Calish, I hope you’re okay. Wherever you are,” she said quietly before also heading into the house.

            The seasons drifted, spring into summer and then autumn. The days grew cooler and the weather wetter. The villagers were all hard at work preparing for the coming winter. The months of snow were growing close.

            Calish watched Lyrial, sitting in the garden outside the house he once called home. She stroked the leaves of his Soul Flower, looking thoughtful as she did. She looked up, taking in the brilliant reds and yellows of the autumn leaves.

            The autumn skies were covered in dark clouds, turning the living world as grey and dreary as Calish’s. The falling rain was reflected in this shadow of worlds as falling specks of darkness. They hit Calish’s body, fading as they did so. There was no splash, and he remained dry.

            Lyrial stood up in the rain, spreading her arms out wide and facing up to the sky. She closed her eyes as the rain fell upon her face. The water soaked into her hair and clothing and she smiled and laughed up into the sky.

            For the first time since dying, Calish allowed himself a slight smile. His daughter’s happiness seemed to lighten his dark world. He smiled to himself, marvelling at the beautiful child that he’d brought into the world.

            He heard the door of the cottage open and turned to see his wife running into the rain. She ran towards their daughter and took her hand.

            “Lyrial, you silly child, get inside. You’ll find yourself sick from the cold if you’re not careful,” she scolded. The smile on her face betrayed the seriousness of her words. Calish wondered if his wife had been thinking the same thing he just had.

            Jenya led Lyrial back inside the cottage, already struggling to get her out of her wet clothing. Calish watched them go, smiling at the scene, until the door of the cottage slammed shut.

            The memories of moments like these were the ones Calish held dearest. They made his existence a little easier to cope with. It was comforting to know that they were able to smile, even without him there.

            In the early days of winter, like many winters before, disease came upon the village. It spread from household to household, uncaring in who it infected. Many found themselves bed ridden before the winter had reached its peak.

            The village physician trudged through the winter snow on his rounds through the village. The winter normally found him busier than normal and this one was no exception. He did all he could for the people, but his cures, treatments and time were all stretched very thin.

            This winter, in fact, he found himself under even more pressure. The disease seemed harsher this year, showing less mercy to those inflicted. The strong found themselves brought down and crippled by this particular strain. Those who counted themselves among the healthiest were suddenly fighting for their lives. Many lost this fight, passing into Calish’s world.

            So it was that Calish, for the first time since coming to his village, saw the cloaked figure.

            The cloaked figure visited a number of village houses throughout the winter, stopping by when a poor soul lost his fight against the disease. Calish would occasionally watch him on his rounds, but most of his attention was for his family. He hoped that they would be spared.

            At times Calish would notice the cloaked figure watching him, always from a distance. He’d always stare back, waiting for the figure to make a move. Despite his time stuck in this world, Calish still hoped to be able to move on. This figure was his only hope for that.

            But the figure would never do more than watch. He’d observe, often for hours at a time, Calish’s movements. Then, without any signal, the figure would suddenly vanish or drift slowly towards another house in the village.

            No words were ever exchanged between the two of them. Calish imagined the figure felt it had said all that needed to be said. This suited Calish fine. He didn’t have anything left he wanted to say to the figure either.

            And so, this cycle of silently watching continued throughout the early weeks of winter.

            Winter was well underway when Lyrial started showing the first signs of disease. Fever gripped her as she struggled restlessly against nightmares as she slept. Calish could do nothing but watch as she cried out in her sleep and constantly rolled beneath the covers.

            Breaking free from her fever induced dreams, Lyrial sat up in bed with a sudden cry. She sat there panting and drenched in sweat as Jenya, woken by her daughter’s cry, rushed over to her. Jenya took her child in her arms, holding her close, doing all she could to comfort her. Lyrial buried her head into her mother’s shoulder as her body shook with frightened, fevered cries.

            It pained Calish to watch this scene, knowing there was nothing he could do. He’d have given anything to be there with his family. He longed to hold his daughter and assure her that she’d get better. He wanted to be there to give his support to his wife as their daughter struggled.

            Watching, however, was all he could do. As painful as this scene was for him, he didn’t dare leave. He wanted to - needed to - see everything that happened to his family the moment it happened. If there was any comfort, any hope that his family could pick up on from the presence of his spirit he’d be there for that.

            Somehow, he was determined to see his family still get through this together, in any way possible.

            The physician came the next morning to see Lyrial. He quickly checked her over, but it was clear she was suffering from the same affliction as the rest of the village. He said as much to Jenya.

            “Is there anything we can do?” she asked him, desperate for any hope.

            “I have a bit of a tonic,” he said, reaching into his bag for a bottle, “It will help to fight the fever and let her rest a bit easier.”

            “Thank you,” Jenya said, taking the bottle from him.

            “Now, I don’t have a lot, mind you. I can only spare that one bottle. I’d suggest using it only at nights for now. I’m hoping that another delivery of supplies comes by soon so I can put together some more,” explained the physician.

            “It’s fine, really. Every little bit will help,” Jenya thanked him again.

            “Yes, yes,” he nodded, “the most important thing for her right now is getting some rest, and this tonic will help with that.”

            The physician began to pack up his gear, apologising to Jenya that he couldn’t stay longer, or do anything more. He still had a lot more people to see that morning.

            Calish didn’t see him leave. All his attention was for his daughter as he stood at the side of her bed. She was pale and sweaty with fever as she lay in bed. She cried out weakly and Jenya was at her side. She held a cup of water to Lyrial’s mouth and helped her slowly drink. She took it away as she started violently coughing.

            “Just rest darling, just rest,” she said, brushing her Lyrial’s hair back. She lay her daughter down again and sat on the edge of the bed, helping to calm Lyrial.

            Calish found himself reaching a hand out to rub his wife’s shoulder, desperate to comfort her. His hand passed through Jenya’s shoulder, and she didn’t make any movement to indicate she’d even noticed anything. His hand returned to his side where he formed it into a fist. He shut his eyes then, briefly, trying to shut the pain away.

            A slow, hard week went by where Calish could do nothing but watch his daughter deteriorate further. She grew paler, began losing weight and, although the tonic helped, still woke sweating and screaming many nights. She had a hard time keeping food down and her coughing was growing steadily more violent. It seemed she was fighting a losing battle, but Calish held on to hope.

            Calish admired the strength his daughter showed, despite it all. During brief moments of reprieve, where the disease itself seemed to be resting, he’d listen to the conversations between her and Jenya.

            Lyrial would tell her how she was going to get better. She wasn’t going to die because she knew her mother needed her with father now gone. She was going to fight the disease with all her strength. She didn’t want to make her mother worry anymore. She was going to win.

            Calish worried about Jenya as well. She never showed it in front of their daughter, but he could tell she was growing weak as well. When she wasn’t in the room with Lyrial she seemed to move slower, like every step cost her more energy. She’d often be caught in violent coughing fits that she tried to smother, not wanting Lyrial to hear. She wanted to be strong for Lyrial, so Lyrial could be too.

            The physician came a few more times to check on Lyrial, promising that there’d be more he could do soon. He must have noticed Jenya’s condition as well, Calish thought, as he stopped to ask Jenya how she was feeling one day on his way to the next patient.

            “I’m fine,” she responded. To Calish’s ears, it didn’t sound like she believed her own words.

            The physician hesitated, like he was going to say more, but instead said his goodbyes. Jenya watched him go, her face pale and hollow.

           

            That night Jenya sat at the foot of her daughter’s bed while Lyrial drifted off into a restless sleep. Calish watched as his wife fell asleep, leaning on the bed. She looked exhausted. Lyrial, meanwhile, thrashed about more violently than ever.

            The tonic from the physician had run out the night before and the fever dreams seemed to now be worse than before. Perhaps Jenya hadn’t used it sparingly enough, though Calish could hardly blame her for this. He wanted his daughter to recover just as much. He also suspected that Jenya may have taken some for herself.

            A sharp cry from Lyrial broke Calish from his thoughts, and Jenya from her sleep. She stood up, the movement seeming to take great effort, and moved to her daughter’s side.

            “Oh, my darling,” Jenya quietly whispered, taking Lyrial’s hands in hers.

            “It hurts, mum. Everything hurts. Help me,” Lyrial sobbed. Jenya lifted her daughter up in bed and held her close, rocking her gently. Her eyes came to rest on the empty bottle next to the bed.

            “Go back to sleep for a little, Lyrial. I’m going to go see the physician. I’m sure he’ll have some more medicine for you,” Jenya said, lowering Lyrial back into the bed.

            “No, no mum. Don’t go. Please don’t go,” Lyrial cried out.

            “Hush darling, I won’t be long,” Jenya leaned forward and kissed Lyrial’s forehead before reaching for a coat and leaving the room.

            “No… please…” Lyrial cried out one more time before passing back into the world of her fever dreams.

            Calish knelt beside her bed, trying desperately to find a way to send his spirit over to her. He wanted her to know he was here with her and looking out for her. He held his hand over hers, cupping it, but never touching. There was no way for him to reach her, physically or mentally. But Calish kept trying. It was all he could do to try, and he couldn’t let himself give up.

            Calish had no idea how much time had passed when he heard footsteps behind him. He was still crouched beside his daughter, his hand over hers. Lyrial looked less troubled now. The dreams seemed to have faded, giving her a brief respite in which to rest. She looked peaceful, though her brow was still ringed with beads of sweat, and her skin was pale.

            “Calish,” a familiar voice, the owner of the footsteps, called out. Calish turned around to once again come face to face with the cloaked figure. Calish’s eyes widened as his thoughts immediately went to his daughter.

            “No,” Calish choked out, then louder; “No! You are not taking my daughter too. Get out of here.” The figure ignored him.

            “You’re going to want to come with me,” was all the figure said before turning to leave. Calish was about to question him but stopped, noticing the room around him.

            While there was no sun, no moon or no stars in this shadow of worlds, there was still a difference in light between night and day. As he looked around the room, Calish realised it was indeed morning.

            It was morning, and Jenya wasn’t in the cottage.

            Jenya had never come home.
---

You can go on to the final part here.

Eternal Part 2: Love

If you haven't yet, read part 1 right here.

And below is part 2 of my short story. As usual, leave thoughts and feedback!

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Love

            The soldier sat, staring blankly at the grey sky above. Clouds, distinguishable as only a slightly different shade against the sky, slowly drifted by. Behind him stood the only changing thing in this world between worlds, a figure draped from head to toe in a hooded black cloak. This figure had been his only companion amidst they grey of death, though the soldier wished otherwise.

            “Have you a name, soldier?” the figure asked.

            “Calish,” the soldier answered.

            “Well, Calish, I’m glad you’re here,” said the figure sincerely. Calish rounded on the figure, his face creased in anger.

            “Why?” he shouted, “So you can finally have some company in this eternity of hell? Why me of all people? Please, just let me move on.”

            “I cannot,” the figure responded simply.

            Calish turned again, once more facing away from the figure, “Then leave me to my solitude. I’d rather have that as my companion.”

            The figure stood in silence, contemplating, before finally fading away, leaving Calish alone once again. He appeared only a handful more times, yet no more words were spoken between the two of them. An impenetrable layer of silence had fallen between them, and neither had the will to break it.

            The visits from the figure became fewer and fewer until, eventually, Calish assumed he’d stopped coming all together. Now, more than ever before, Calish was accompanied only by solitude and his memories of war, love, life, and death.

It was an eternity until the figure appeared once more. The amount of time between visits was immeasurable in this cold, desolate world. The soldier, Calish, had not moved since the last visit, sitting on the shadowed soil of the valley he had once fought in, so long ago. He had only his own thoughts to keep him company, thus he had become lost in them.

            The hooded figure stood watching, staring at him from within the shadows of his ebony cloak. Like the times before, neither of them made any sound. The figure watched, seemingly in deep contemplation of Calish’s existence in this world. Calish, on the other hand, appeared to not even notice the presence of his observer.

            The figure watched for sometime as Calish kept the company of the only thing he had; his memories. They flowed through his head as he relived the ups and downs of his life, right until the very end. The joys of time spent with the woman he loved, and his daughter, the life they had created together. Then, finally, when the arrow had ended his life much too early. He absentmindedly pressed his hand against the hole in his chest, the mark of his death.

            Once more, as with all his visits before, the figure turned to leave. This time, however, he hesitated and turned once more to face the soldier.

            “Why do you remain?” he asked. The silence, an ever-present companion to the two of them, had been shattered.

            Calish looked up blinking in surprise as he emerged from his silent reveries. He glanced at the hooded figure, finally noticing he was no longer alone. For all the good the figure would bring him though, he may as well have been.

            “You need to ask?” Calish asked, bitterness lacing his words. “You won’t allow me to move on. Because of you, I cannot leave this shadow world.”

            “No, you misunderstand. Of course you can’t move on, but there’s no need for you to remain here, in this valley,” explained the figure.

            “Tell me then, what else is there? The dead effigies of villages? The hollow empty shells of cities? No thank you. If I’m to be stuck here, this valley is as good as anywhere else,” Calish turned to face away from the figure, hoping he’d leave as he always did. Instead, he spoke once more. It was a simple sentence, but one that changed everything.

            “You could see your family,” the figure spoke, his voice again strangely void of emotion. Calish turned back to face the figure.

            “They’re here?” he asked, unable to stop his voice from sounding hopeful. There was a shine in his eyes that had been absent since his death. It was only brief, however, as another thought entered his mind. “They’re dead also?”

            “Relax Calish, your family are still among the living,” the figure assured and the soldier slumped in relief.

            “So how can I see them?” he asked.

            “The deceased can still see those that they were closest to in life and, to an extent, the people and area around them. Be aware though that they cannot see you, nor interact with you in anyway. All you can do is watch,” explained the figure.

            “I won’t be able to talk to them?” asked Calish.

            “No, merely observe. I think you’ll find it is enough just to see that they are doing fine. After all, you must come to terms with the reality that you are no longer a part of their lives,” the figure answered. To Calish, he sounded regretful.

            “I would like to be able to see them,” Calish admitted. Repeatedly his thoughts had led to his family and how they were coping. Did they even know he was dead yet? How had they taken the news? He wasn’t even sure how much time had passed.    “Then, Calish, focus on them. Focus on the place where you lived with them. Picture it in your mind, imagine yourself being there and be there you shall,” the figure instructed.

            The figure watched as Calish closed his eyes. His face was creased in concentration. Inside his head he pictured the little cottage he called home with his wife and daughter. The wooden panelling, sloped roof, small round windows, and garden patch out front, all took shape in his mind’s eye.

            He focused on his wife. Beautiful Jenya, with her long brown hair and soft, brown eyes. He recalled the way she used to smile at him, and only at him. His daughter, Lyrial, took after him with her black hair and blue eyes. He pictured her running happily, playing outside their house.

            Finally, he pictured himself with them. He recalled what it was like to hold his wife and pictured himself standing with her, his arm wrapped around her waist. Their daughter played happily, stopping to look up at them with joy and love on her face.

            Then he opened his eyes, and he was there.

            It was exactly as he’d pictured, exactly as he’d remembered. He stood on the path leading up to their front door, looking at his house. His house: an island of colour and vibrancy in an otherwise grey world. The garden was no bigger than he remembered, the plants having barely grown at all since he’d last seen them. Could it really have been only a few months since he’d left to fight the war? Somehow it seemed so much longer.

            The figure approached to stand next to him. Seeming to sense Calish’s unvoiced question, he spoke, “Time flows differently for you and I. An eternity in our world may be only mere moments in this world, yet a second in our world could sometimes be the passing of decades in this one. Occasionally, the flow of time may even reverse. As you spend more time here, you’ll learn to ride the currents of time, and maybe even control them.”

            Calish heard his words, but didn’t really take note of them. He was home, and that was all he could focus on right now. He wanted to go and open the door. He wanted to hold his daughter and see her smiling face. He wanted to kiss his wife and feel her in his arms once again. As he touched the hole in his chest, however, he knew that he couldn’t. He’d never be able to again.

            Suddenly, a man walked through the spot Calish was occupying. He was momentarily disoriented, thinking that he should feel something. Yet, he felt nothing, and the man that had passed through him continued onwards, heading to the front door as though nothing had happened.

            He took note of the uniform the man was dressed in and immediately recognised it as that of the king’s army. Straight away realisation hit him. He knew that his family didn’t know he was dead yet, and he knew what this man was here for. Already he could picture the expressions of grief and pain on their faces.

            “I can’t do this. I don’t want to see this. Please, tell me how to move forward in time” Calish said, turning to the hooded figure. He was surprised to find the figure gone. He wasn’t given time to wonder why. The king’s man knocking on his front door drew his attention back to the world of the living.

            “Daddy!” a happy cry came from inside his house. His heart felt heavy as he recognised his daughter’s voice. The door opened slightly and Lyrial poked her head through the gap. Looking up at the man she asked, “Are you a friend of daddy’s?” The man just gave her a sympathetic smile in return.

            The door was then opened completely and in the entrance stood his wife. His chest felt tight as he looked at her. She was just as beautiful as he remembered. Jenya looked at the man standing in the door. Calish watched as she took in the man’s uniform. He could tell from the expression on her face that she was already expecting the worst.

            “Lyrial, honey, go back inside,” she said, urging her daughter back into the cottage.

            “But mummy, I want to hear about daddy too!” Lyrial said, defiant.

            “Please Lyrial. Go play in your room. I’ll be in there soon,” she said, pushing her inside. Giving up, Lyrial ran inside.

            “Jenya,” the man started, “it’s about your husband…” Calish listened as the king’s man relayed the news. At first, Jenya seemed strong, taking it in and not letting the pain show. The more the man said, however, the more Calish could see the sorrow taking hold of her. Eventually, she couldn’t take anymore.

            “Please,” she said, her voice sounding hoarse, “I’ve heard enough. Thank you for coming.” The king’s man bowed his head respectfully, apologising for her loss.

            As he walked away, Jenya leaned against their front door. She wrapped her arms across her chest as the first tears started to fall. She started to shake, sobs racking her body and she allowed herself to slide down to the floor. She pulled her legs up to her chest and buried her head between them, giving way to grief.

            “Mummy? Mummy, what’s wrong?” Lyrial asked, walking up to her mother. In her grief, however, Jenya was unable to answer. “Mummy? Please stop crying. Is it Daddy? Is Daddy okay?” Her daughter’s questions only made her cry harder.

            The scene became too much for Calish as his legs gave way and he too collapsed to the ground, tears streaming down his face.

            “I’m so sorry,” he cried, burying his head in his hands “I’m sorry for doing this to you all. I’m so sorry. I’m sorry. Sorry…”

            From a distance away, the hooded figure watched the familiar scene of grief unfold. His face, hidden beneath the hood, revealed nothing of his feelings.

            When next Calish opened his eyes, his grief all spent, days seemed to have passed. His wife was outside, digging a spot in the garden for a green, flowerless plant while Lyrial looked on.

            “What is that?” his daughter asked, gesturing towards the plant.

            “It’s a plant for your father,” Jenya answered, putting down the trowel and wiping perspiration from her forehead.

            “A gift for when he comes home?” Lyrial asked, hopeful. Jenya stood up and pulled her daughter into a tight hug.

            “No honey. Remember, he won’t be coming home again now. He’s on his way to a better place, and this plant will let us know when he’s there and safe again,” she said. She let go of her daughter and returned to the garden, carefully placing the plant into the hole she’d dug.

            “It’s called a Soul Flower,” Jenya continued, “And it only flowers when the person it was planted for has gone to the next world. So, when this one flowers, it means your dad is safe and happy in that world.”

            “Can we go visit him there?” Lyrial asked innocently.

            “Not for a long, long time,” she answered, while carefully placing soil back around the plant’s roots “But one day, all three of us will be together again there. Until that day though, your father would want you to live a full, happy life here. Nothing would make him gladder.”

            “Okay,” Lyrial nodded. Jenya stood up and kissed her daughter on the top of her head, leading her back inside.

            “We’ll water this plant each day. Doing that will help your father get to where he’s going,” Jenya said on the way inside.

            “Thank you, my love, my daughter,” Calish said to both of them, knowing they wouldn’t hear. He looked at the grey world around his house, “I’ll need all the help I can get.”

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And now, you can read part 3 here.