Chapter 100 - Steel Your Mind

The night shift left Daniel feeling drained like he was sleepwalking through his own life. It wasn’t supposed to be this way. When he first moved to the city, he had dreams—big ones. He was going to become a comic book artist; seeing his work in print, attending conventions, and sharing stories that would inspire others like the comics he loved growing up. He had dozens of notebooks buried in his apartment, filled with sketches, character designs, and half-drawn pages of his story. But dreams had a way of slipping away, especially when life pulled you in another direction.

Bills piled up; rent increased. His day job turned into a night job—security at an office building where he spent hours wandering dark, empty corridors, watching over things that didn’t need watching. It was supposed to be temporary, just until he got back on his feet. But weeks turned into months, and months turned into years as his pencils began to gather dust. He’d occasionally open one of his old notebooks and flip through as he indulged in his old daydreams. Once in a while, he’d even draw something new. But, half-finished sketches were the most he could muster these days. Sometimes he wondered if he’d ever truly get back to it. The passion was still there, buried beneath exhaustion and the never-ending cycle of work and bills, but the spark to sit down and draw in earnest had faded.

The city was quiet as he walked home, the streets empty except for the distant hum of traffic. It was late August, and the air should have been thick with the lingering warmth of the day, but tonight, there was an unusual chill in the breeze. Daniel zipped up his jacket, pulling it tighter around himself, though it didn’t seem to help. There was a weight to the night, a coldness that had nothing to do with the temperature.

His route home took him past a construction site, a half-finished building that had been towering over the street for months now. By day, it was alive with the sounds of hammering and machinery, but at night, it was like a skeleton looming out of the darkness, its steel beams and scaffolding casting jagged shadows under the streetlights. Daniel had always found it unsettling—an unfinished thing, caught between creation and ruin.

As he approached the site, the wind picked up, whipping through the open framework of the building, making the scaffolding creak and groan. Daniel hunched his shoulders against it, quickening his pace. He glanced up at the building, watching the empty windows, the hollow openings like eyes staring back at him.

He dug his hands into his pockets and charged ahead as the wind blew harder, howling through the exposed beams. Then, he heard something shift above him—a creaking sound, deep and ominous, like the groan of some old, tired beast. Daniel paused for a moment, his eyes flicking up toward the scaffolding. He heard a whistle… then saw something moving, falling out of the darkness above. Maybe a bird or—

He saw a flash of steel—dropping from above like a missile, only visible thanks to a glint of street light as the whistle steadily got louder. He opened his mouth to shout, there was no time to move, and before it fully registered in his mind, it was already too late. Pain exploded in his skull, and the world went white.

…

When Daniel opened his eyes, he was standing still, rubbing his head. His vision was hazy, but the pain was oddly dull, more of an ache than anything serious. He blinked hard, trying to clear the fog from his mind. “That was close…” he muttered, disoriented. “Could’ve been worse.”

He felt along his head for a wound, thinking maybe it wasn’t as big of a piece of construction debris as he thought. He only saw it for a flash. Yeah, there wasn’t even a bruise as far as he could tell, so it couldn’t have been that bad. He looked to the ground, thinking he should move the debris so nobody ended up tripping on it. He found the beam, but something else stole his focus—something that caused his not-breath to lock in his throat.

It was his own face. His body was lying on the pavement in front of him, twisted awkwardly, blood pooling beneath his head from a deep gash. The sight sent a jolt of terror through him, his thoughts scrambling to make sense of what he was seeing. He staggered backward, his heart racing as he stared at the lifeless form on the ground. It couldn’t be real—he was standing right here, wasn’t he? He was alive, wasn’t he?

But when he kneeled to touch the body, his fingers passed through like smoke. He jerked his hand back, panic rising in his chest as the horrifying realization dawned on him.

He was dead.

Daniel’s breath came in short, desperate gasps, even though he knew it shouldn’t. He eyes darted around wildly, searching for something to anchor him back to reality. This had to be a nightmare! But, the world remained unnervingly still. The wind had stopped, and the creaking of the scaffolding had faded into silence. Only the soft hum of the streetlights remained, casting long shadows across the construction site.

Then, he felt… something. There was a presence behind him, cold and unnerving.

Slowly, he turned.

A figure stood just beyond the reach of the streetlight’s glow, cloaked in shadow, its hood pulled low, concealing its face. But from within that darkness, two glowing red eyes stared at him, burning with an eerie, otherworldly light. In its hands, the figure held a scythe, the blade glinting faintly blue.

The figure stepped forward, and as it moved, the sound of metal scraping against the ground sent a shiver through Daniel’s already frayed nerves. When it spoke, the voice wasn’t the low, gravely sound he expected. It was the voice of a girl—soft, almost gentle.

“Uh… hey there. Mr. Farthington?”

Daniel Farthington blinked at the casual, somewhat nervous way she spoke.

“Uh… yeah, that’s me,” Daniel managed, though his own words felt distant as if they were coming from someone else entirely.

The figure shifted slightly, stepping fully into the light. Daniel's eyes widened as he took her in. She looked so young—no more than sixteen, maybe seventeen. Her skin was pale, almost unnaturally so, and unnaturally white hair framed her equally white face beneath the hood. She wore a simple black hoodie and a pair of jeen shorts. The scythe she held gleamed under the streetlights as she gripped its pole with fingerless gloves.

She cleared her throat and then smiled, almost as if taking a moment to gather her confidence. “So, I’m sure this is quite shocking for you. That’s a pretty freak accident… But, it’s okay. I’m here to help guide you to the afterlife. You’ve been granted passage to heaven, so everything is going to be okay now.”

Daniel stared at her, the words barely registering. Heaven? Afterlife? The absurdity of it all felt overwhelming. “No! Th-that can’t be right!”

The girl shifted her weight and relaxed her scythe. Her glowing red eyes dimmed sympathetically. "Look, I get it," she said softly as if she’d done this a thousand times before. "You weren’t expecting this. No one ever is. I wasn’t either when I—uh… well, anyway…" She took a breath. "The thing is, death isn’t really the end, you know? And you get to move on to a good place."

Daniel’s mind struggled to focus. The world around him felt surreal like he was trapped in a comic book panel. His thoughts kept bouncing back to the notebooks in his apartment, to the half-finished sketches he would never complete. It wasn’t fair! He wasn’t supposed to die like this—hit by some random piece of metal on his way home from a job he hated.

“But… heaven?” Daniel finally asked, his voice cracking. It felt like a ridiculous thing to question in the face of everything else, but he couldn’t help it. “You know, I haven’t exactly been a saint.”

Her smile grew a little wider. “Well, no one’s perfect. It’s not about being a saint—it’s more about what’s in your heart, you know? And you’ve got a good one. You tried to do the right things. Worked hard, didn’t hurt anyone… and…” she narrowed her eyes as if trying to look into him. “And you… had a hobby you were passionate about?”

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“Drawing. I wanted to be a comic book artist.”

She smiled, and if he wasn’t mistaken she gave herself a slight, congratulatory fist pump.

Once again, he could only blink in confusion. She was supposedly going to send him to the afterlife, but she didn’t seem anything like what he would imagine such a being as. It was almost like she was just cosplaying a grim reaper girl for a highschool halloween party or something. But, there was something almost endearing about her awkwardness.

She noticed his stare and quickly cleared her throat and straightened up. “So, anyway, it’s pretty simple. I just pass this blade through you, it doesn’t hurt or anything.”

Daniel took a step back, shaking his head. “Wait… I didn’t get to finish anything I wanted to in my life. I didn’t even come close. I can’t just… die now…”

The girl’s red eyes softened, and she lowered the scythe slightly. “I know it’s hard. I know it’s not much of a consolation, but most of my clients—uh, sorry, we call you clients—but most of my clients tend to feel that way. The young ones, the old ones… I had one who was an accomplished businessman close to retiring and even he felt there was unfinished business. That’s just… kind of how it goes.”

“But… I never got had any real success! People won’t remember me as an artist, just some random security guard.”

“No… I doubt that’s true,” she smiled. “Those who were closest to you won’t remember you as either of those things. They’ll remember you as Daniel. Even if you were a world-renowned artist, the most important people in your life would simply remember you as you. They are who matter most, you know.”

Daniel paused at that. Her youth wasn’t just in her appearance, it was caked into her awkwardness and her posture, yet somehow there was a surprising level of wisdom behind it all. Daniel got the feeling that this girl had been through a lot, far more than most adults. Whatever the case, her words eased his regrets a little.

He took a deep breath, looking back at his body. “So it doesn’t matter that I never got to publish a comic?”

“Well, I’m not saying it doesn’t matter. That was your dream, and it’s important. But, it is not the only thing there is.”

He nodded, smiling softly as he thought about his family. He had a brother and sister… his little sister particularly loved his drawings and he had even designed a few characters just for her. “I guess I never thought of it that way… but… it’s still hard to let go.”

“I know, it always is.”

He took another moment to gather himself, letting his gaze drift up to the sky. “Guess I’ll get to see dad again, too.”

The girl smiled. “Yes, I know you will.”

Daniel had nothing else to say. He just let himself stare at the sky. Funny, you couldn’t usually see the stars here in the city but right now for some reason, he could see them clear as ever.

He felt the girl’s presence upon him, then there was a whistle as she swung her scythe. Suddenly, the stars were getting closer and closer, and he reached his hand up, feeling like he could just about touch them.

—

Morrigan stood on the empty street, checking her list under the dim glow of a nearby streetlight. Daniel Farthington’s name was crossed off neatly, signaling that her work with him was done. She let out a small sigh, the tension from the night finally loosening in her shoulders.

From beside her, a shadowy figure shifted in the dim light—a black cat with glowing yellow eyes. Noir the voidling stretched, his sleek form looking like it could melt back into the night at any moment.

"You’ve finished quite early tonight," Noir commented in his usual sophisticated voice.

"Yeah, looks like it." Morrigan rolled up the list and tucked it into her sleeve. “Guess it’s time to head back to the shelter.”

Noir tilted his head, his glowing eyes narrowing playfully. "Actually… there’s one more thing."

Morrigan blinked, her tired eyes flicking back down to him. "What? Is there a hollow that needs to be dealt with or something?"

“Not quite,” Noir’s voice was light, almost teasing.

Morrigan frowned in confusion, then caught something out of the corner of her eye. Parked at the next corner, just barely visible in the shadows, was Death’s Phantom—a sleek, black vehicle that was a “fitting chariot” for their line of work, as Death would say.

She wondered if something was wrong. But, she wasn’t too worried as Noir seemed uncharacteristically light-hearted, so it couldn’t have been anything too dire. Still, her curiosity gnawed at her as she stepped toward the car, and just as she neared, the passenger door flew open. Before Morrigan could react, a blur of energy shot up from the passenger seat.

Emma, came bounding towards her with open arms, nearly knocking her out of her shoes as she caught her in a tight embrace. “MORRRIGANN!!!”

“Whoa! Emma, what the—?” Morrigan stammered, trying to catch her breath as she squeezed her tightly. She hadn’t seen Emma in weeks, which after seeing her nearly every day over the summer felt like it might as well have been a lifetime. Her last few weeks in the shelter have felt very long indeed.

“Heheh, sorry about the secrecy but I asked Noir to keep quiet so I could surprise you,” she said, offering a wink as she stepped back. Morrigan blinked, happy to see her of course, but she was never quite as much of an open book.

Then the passenger seat flipped forward and Hilda shimmied her way out as well. “Hey! Don’t forget about me!” the older witch chuckled.

“What are you guys doing here?” Morrigan asked.

“Just a little surprise get-together,” Hilda said with a wink.

Morrigan was extremely happy to see them. It was like a return to some kind of normal, but she was finding herself short of words.

“So have you been doing okay?” Emma asked.

“Yeah. I mean, not too bad. The shelter's a bit inconvenient but I have some friends there. Mainly my roommate.”

“The girl who can see ghosts?” Emma grinned. “Death told us about her.”

“Heh, yeah. Hopefully we can all hang out sometime, she’s a bit shy but she’s been a good friend.” Morrigan cleared her throat, preparing to ask about something else she’d been worried about. “So… what about you guys? I hope you didn’t get into trouble because of me.”

Emma sighed. “With the police, no. Even though they know we knew where you were by now. Technically we didn’t do anything illegal but…”

“But what?” Morrigan asked concerned.

“My parents are a different story.” Emma rolled her eyes. “I’ve been grounded ever since they found out. Oh yeah, they figured out I’ve been running off to hang with Hilda too which I think they are actually more mad about than me lying about you. Plus some of our friends from school are kind of pissed too that I didn’t say anything.”

“Crap. Emma, I’m so sorry.”

Emma chuckled. “No, no, don’t be. I told them all to go fuck corn.”

Hilda burst into laughter. Emma’s vocabulary had certainly gotten more colorful since she started hanging out with her older cousin more.

Emma shrugged and added, “Lacey was the only one I felt bad about lying to, but I’m sure she’ll get over it. She’ll understand I was just trying to protect you.”

“Still, I’m sorry you had to go through all of that.” Then Morrigan realized that another question had barely occurred to her. Not long ago what everyone at school thought about her would have been the number one thing on her mind, but now she was finding she didn’t really care all that much. Still, she asked anyway. “So… I guess everyone knows about me, huh? The fact I basically faked my entire life.”

Once again Emma smirked. “Trust me, the only ones who care you’re not going to care that they care. They were gossiping bitches anyway.”

Morrigan smirked, instantly knowing about three or four girls in particular Emma was probably referring to. “Yeah, guess they should be thanking me. Bet I gave them plenty of entertainment last summer.” She rolled her eyes, and wouldn’t be surprised if they were not some of the negative commenters on those Read-it threads.

Emma looked Hilda’s way conspiratorially. “So can we tell her now?”

Morrigan raised an eyebrow. Judging by the grins on their faces they must have had one more surprise in store for her. “Tell me what?”

Hilda cleared her throat and reached into her overalls, pulling out a folded piece of paper. She handed it to Morrigan with a sly grin. "Here. Take a look at this."

Morrigan raised an eyebrow, feeling the crinkle of the paper in her fingers as she unfolded it. At first glance, it seemed like some kind of official document—her eyes skimmed over words like "application," "foster care," and her own name printed in neat, black ink. She blinked, processing what she was seeing, and her gaze shot up to Hilda.

“Hilda… what is this?” Morrigan asked slowly, her voice uncertain as she stared at the paper.

Hilda scratched the back of her head, looking a little sheepish. “Well, nothing’s set in stone yet, but my boss Mickey, his dad’s a family attorney and he says with my income it’s not too long of a shot. I do have a record but that’s from when I was a juvenile so I’ll have to get it expunged first. Plus I’m only in my twenties but he thinks as long as you and your mom agree—”

“Hilda’s going to foster you!” Emma cheered.

Morrigan stood there, stunned, as she looked down at the paperwork in her hands. She had imagined so many possibilities for her future, but this—Hilda becoming her foster parent—had never even crossed her mind.

Finally, Morrigan laughed and shook her head at her. “You’re crazy.”

Emma laughed as Hilda winked and said, “Well you’re not wrong there. Taking responsibility for a troublemaker like you?” Her smile widened. “I must be out of my mind.”

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