The core of Delden Town was a circular ring of cobblestones and stalls that swirled around a central point. At first, that point had been Delden Town’s first well. It provided clear water for the buildings as they sprung up while the town grew. The well was eventually boarded up and water was brought in from the nearby streams and springs instead.

As Delden Town grew and attracted more travelers, the townsfolk knew that a boarded-up well was not an eye-catching centerpiece to the town’s core. The well was demolished, and a fountain was erected in its place. The fountain was simple, but it became a place for lucky coins to be thrown and for children to run around before collapsing onto its stone for comfort.

The fountain still stood, but it no longer functioned. As Imp walked into the core of Delden Town, she saw that the spout where water had once slowly bubbled forth was snapped in half. The edge of the fountain was cracked. The water had long since spilled out.

It felt like she was looking at the soul of Delden Town, shattered before her. The fountain had not been an original feature of the town, but it had been there every time that Imp had come to the market days with her family. Now it reflected the town itself.

The flash of light and the scream that Imp had followed had faded away. She had moved as quickly as she could, but whatever was happening in Delden Town evaded her this time. When she arrived, there were no motes of light dancing around, no silvery silhouettes, and no scythe-wielding shadow. Instead, Imp was greeted by the mortal and mundane feeling of death that permeated Delden Town.

She moved from the fountain to a stall that once sold fancy hats. At least, that was what she remembered. Her siblings had jokingly tried on the hats, only to find that they came down over their eyes. It was there that Imp had seen a cousin preparing to leave Delden Town. It was there that she had argued with her parents publicly for the first time, demanding that she be allowed to go with the cousin.

Imp knew that she had been unreasonable, even at the moment. Logically, she could not force her parents to add her to a merchant’s long journey without the skills to aid the merchant and only adding to the burden of travel. Still, that had been the spark that led her to runaway a few years later. Imp felt a little hollow as the memory surfaced and then retreated. Enough time had passed and it felt like that tantrum belonged to someone else.

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A dark presence passed over the stall and drew Imp’s eyes back toward the cracked fountain. A swirling darkness came together into a familiar malevolent shape at the fountain’s peak. Imp reached for the hilt of a sword that was not at her side anymore. A sigh escaped her lips and then she called out, “Who are you?”

The figure did not respond. It looked more like a falcon looking for prey than a reaper looking for souls. Yet, that was what Imp had come to think of the malevolent force as. To her, it was a reaper feasting on the souls of the dead. She had never seen a reaper before, but out of everything she had heard tales of while adventuring, that was what it had to be.

Before she could call out again, the reaper moved from the fountain’s top with a graceful glide. Imp followed after and found herself standing at the end of an alley between two large buildings. The reaper was hovering at the far end and between them... a mote of silver light flickered into being. The reaper let out a howl and tendrils of darkness swirled from its form and tried to latch onto the mote of light.

A flash of silver and a scream filled the alleyway as the mote of light took the form of a stranger. Unlike the arborist, the stranger did not seem to belong in Delden Town. They wore the armor of an adventurer and moved with the swagger of a fighter. Imp watched as a ghostly sword appeared in the stranger’s grasp.

The reaper’s scythe and the stranger’s sword met in that alleyway. Soulful sparks scattered toward the stars as they danced against each other. Imp could only watch from the edge of the alley as the two spirit forms collided again and again.

The scythe was too large to swing properly in the alleyway, but the stranger’s sword darted in and out like a viper. The reaper was on the defensive, Imp knew the feeling. When she had been in the desert, she dueled a warrior who used their sword a similar way. It had been all she could do to counter the attacks until her opponent grew too tired to fight.

The reaper, however, had no intention of waiting. As the stranger darted forward and stabbed toward the reaper’s chest, it vanished in a puff of smoke. The stranger turned to look for it but only saw Imp watching from the edge of the alley. The stranger looked confused and angry up until the point that the reaper materialized again. This time, behind the stranger, with the blade of the scythe wrapped around their chest.

Imp watched as the reaper tore the scythe blade back through the stranger’s form. An explosion of silver light hit Imp like a golem’s fist. For a moment, she saw the cloudy sky overhead. Instead of hitting the ground as she fell backward from the explosive soul, the world started to bend around her. The ground gave way to a chasm. The chasm filled with darkness. The clouds gave way to stars. The moon turned the starry sky into an endless void. Imp felt the chasm and the void both pull forcefully at her core. Fractures of light filled her mind.

Suddenly, she was standing again.

Yet, the feet she was standing on were not her own and the eyes she looked out from saw Delden Town before the destruction.