A letter from Kerner Braverhund(Hund) to his adopted granddaughter Eden(Human). Written on his deathbed.

Dear Eden,

It is a funny thing to know the hour, minute, and second of your own death. To know with certainty that your life as you know it, that you in your entirety, will soon cease to exist. There will be echoes of me in those that I have formed in my own image and in the memories of my children and grandchildren. But this version of me, this continued stream of consciousness, it will end.

I've often argued with myself over the necessity of death. Some share my belief that the length of one's life should always be finite. It should have a beginning, a middle, and an ending, preferably a good one. But it should end.

Without the slow creep of the grim reaper's footsteps we become numb to the joys of living. We become like deathless zombie scientists cataloging emotions and experiences without appreciation or love.

How can one who will live forever as a perfect youth ever hope to comprehend the joy of a grandfather watching his grandchildren run and play, knowing full well that his old bones cannot keep up? How can that perfect youth comprehend the satisfaction of standing up from a chair in defiance of your own body's demands that you stay put and act your age? That youth cannot.

The perfect youth will always be strong, potent, and in good health. Their life will be easy, unchanging, and above all, boring. Because they will be stretched thin by time. It will grab them by both ends and pull and pull and pull, never stopping. It will pull until they are so gossamer thin in spirit that all joy and passion slips past them without leaving a mark.

No, one would do much better to die than suffer such a warped and tortured existence. But still, some will choose it, mistaking it for happiness. Or they will try, if I don't stop them.

I was young and afraid when I set the wheels in motion that would make us eternal. I was afraid of dying, of running out of time. Of not doing what needed to be done before the Gravekeeper claimed me, as he claims all warhunds.

I believed I could somehow guarantee safety for my children by making them strong enough to laugh in the face of death itself. But I was a fool, and death always gets the last laugh. It's a low wry chuckle of amusement, absent of menace, full of feeling. But nevertheless, it is final.

Later as I grew older I learned that it is impossible to account for everything, or to even control a fraction of what you might wish to. As my joints ached and my teeth loosened I began to understand that it was alright to end, to leave things unfinished. And with that understanding came a rare moment of peace and surrender.

It wouldn't all be on me forever. I could finally close my eyes and get some sleep. I would do my best then leave what was unfinished for the next generation to solve, or not. But it would be their decision, their mess, their triumph.

But now, looking at the last few grains of sand as they fall, I am once again reminded of my duty. My father made a mess, and eagerly I stepped into it, happy at the power it gave me, joyful to be able to protect those I love. But thankfully, not blind to the consequences.

I have in my head a key that can open a backdoor into the mind of nearly anyone. Even the Gravekeeper, for now I know his secrets, is not beyond my influence. I can hollow a mind out completely or change a few core values, but this power will lead to our undoing.

So now, I must relinquish control, lest someone else use it against us. I must allow those that I have charmed and ensnared to break free, so they can change and evolve, grow and do better. I must give my life, so that my people will have a future.

I had thought that when all was said and done and my people were free I would take my wife with me and we would explore the stars together. But she, being more wise than I, explained that one life well lived, fully lived, a life like ours filled with love and happiness, was enough for her.

If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

She explained that we didn't have to keep on going forever. We had already won. And if this wasn't enough, if a lifetime together complete with grandchildren and minor triumphs and lazy mornings making love wasn't enough… well what could be?

She told me that on her deathbed. I watched the light leave my dear valkyrie's eyes and the last breath leave her lungs and I cried, because a part of me was lost forever.

I have in my power to bring her back, to press her spirit into new flesh so we can live together for all eternity. But such madness was what took my father down a dark path and stained his soul so black that it drinks the very light. Even in the afterlife he wears his shame like a noose around his neck.

My time with her was incredible because it had a beginning, a middle, and an end. To try and stretch it thinner and wring more joy out of it would destroy both of us. So I swallowed my sorrow, and let her go.

Now with her gone I find it much easier to contemplate my end. But I am once again reminded of my duty. Every simulation I have run says that if my people escape their prison they will become a scourge upon the universe, upon you and the other humans.

Without the threat of death my people will grow cold, numb, merciless and joyless. So it falls to me to once again don the mantle of the warhund. I will give them something to fear. I will remind them of their own mortality. I will save them from themselves.

But I will wear no crown. I will be no king. I will not rule, for my time has ended. I will be a specter, the old warhund in the long coat, the reminder, the end of all things. I will become death.

I will walk alongside every hund, I will whisper to them, I will chant memento mori in their ears. I will remind them that life is fleeting and there is never enough time to do everything, that every day is precious. I will return death to them.

But for now, I will sleep. I will lay down in my grave and I will dream of a world that is free, where children dance under a sky full of stars. I will make a cocoon of dirt for myself and I will sleep. I will rest, until I am called.

Granddaughter, I love you with all my heart and I know you will do great things. I hope that you never have need of me. But I fear that the world will not permit you such a happy ending. Greatness and happiness rarely go hand in hand. And you will be great. So I make you this promise, call me and I will be there.

It doesn't matter where, it doesn't matter when, or even what situation you find yourself in. Shout my name three times and I will shake the dirt off of these old bones of mine and stand beside you. I will never fail, never falter, never give up on you. Because my devotion to you, little pup, is stronger than death. It transcends the bounds of this material world, as all love should.

Esmeralda was afraid when she gave you over to me to protect. But I knew I loved you from the first moment I saw you, all pink and hairless as you were. As I watched you grow I began to understand why humans protect their young so fiercely. It's your frailty, your dependency. Those first few months I held you as if you were made of glass.

We hunds grow up so fast compared to humans. Within weeks of being born we can already walk and our teeth begin to come in. We are born with fur to keep us warm and claws to keep us safe. But as I write this you are nearly two years old and just now beginning to run and speak.

The need to protect you has domesticated me. I cannot imagine a world where I would ever let harm come to you, my little pup. But this old hund, or as some might call me "dog" has run out of time. It now falls on me to find you a new family, new protectors.

Nemeria worries too much and Simon worries not at all but they are good people. They will love you and you will want for nothing. Young as you are I don't imagine you will remember much of me. In time your memories of me will fade until I am nothing more than a half forgotten lullaby.

But I sang it for you all the same. I sang it and I loved you and I cared for you, little pup. I named you Eden after my hope that you would bring forth paradise for our people, and I say our people because you belong to both hund and human now.

You are a bridge between our worlds and I will never forget you. I will always love you, even as you read this years from now and I am rotting in the ground. I need you to know that I still love you as my own. And I will keep my promise to you, little one, dear one.

When you find yourself in trouble, no matter how hopeless you may feel, no matter where you are, call my name three times and I will be there beside you so we may face it together.

This is the promise of a grandfather to his granddaughter, and I will keep it. No matter what. No matter how impossible it may seem, I will be there. I will tear a hole in the very fabric of the universe if I need to. You will not be alone, because I will be with you.

But for now I will sleep. I am old and tired. I have been awake for far too long and my eyelids are heavy. My fur is now mostly gray and my eyes are failing. But I still see you, as I close my eyes one last time, I see you.

-Always and forever, your loving Grandfather, Kerner Braverhund