She sits in an empty void.

A lonely reach covered only in darkness. An endless sea of inky null.

A place inside her subconscious only she and the dead may roam. Not even she can reach her here.

The witch sits. Not in a throne, but a seat only comparable to one.

There is a ringing. The sound of a bell, no- not quite… It's more of a chime. It endlessly tolls in her ears. The sound notifies the witch of an organism's inevitable passing.

If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it's taken without permission from the author. Report it.

The sound of death.

She subconsciously allows the souls to pass on into the Convergence. Amidst the repeated flow of chimes, however, one stands out. The sound is weak, as if a whimper.

Homing in, she allows the life of a young boy to play out inside her head. She witnesses his memories, his thoughts, his emotions, all of his fallen dreams and failures.

Her fragile heart saddens.

The boy has not yet lived a fulfilling life.

But the chime can only mean one thing…

The boy is about to die.