I heard the skittering sound of tiny feet nearby.

I didn’t care. Why did I ever care?

I managed to turn onto my back and stared up into the swirling sky.

This was as fine a place to die as any. Why was I so worried before?

Jack. The voice was faint. A distant memory. A forgotten dream.

And then, I saw her face. My beautiful daughter. I heard her laughter. Visions swirled around me. I was younger, the world vibrant. My wife, Leah, was with her sister for the day, and I had Sarah, our daughter. My wonderful Sarah.

We were playing, and she was laughing so hard she could barely breathe. She had such a beautiful, full laugh, as if her whole body couldn’t contain the joy.

I got a call. A friend, a fellow private eye. He was in a bind and needed a favor—nothing dangerous, just a quick errand. A file needed picking up from the precinct, and he was stuck on the wrong side of town, trapped in rush hour. I was closer, so I agreed to swing by. It was a routine job, hardly worth mentioning. I brought Sarah along, thinking nothing of it.

We were at the precinct, waiting for the clerk to dig up the file. But something felt off. Before I could put my finger on it, the world exploded around me. I still tasted the gas that filled the place, still heard the screams, still felt the crushing weight of concrete and metal. Shadefire burned hot—a coal-like stone that crackled with dark energy. It was the backbone of every forge and hearth, the fuel that kept winter at bay. But it was also the junkie’s drug of choice and the home alchemist’s perfect ingredient for a bomb. A Shadefire explosion could level a building faster than you could scream.

Sarah’s face flashed in my mind, a memory that wouldn’t let go. Leah was crying now, and I couldn’t stop her. She left me after that—just vanished without a trace. Last I heard, she was somewhere near Angel City. I never went back to our house. It stood there, empty, like me. When the divorce papers arrived, I didn’t fight. Haven’t seen or heard from her since.

Sarah’s smile was vivid now, calling to me. I reached out, feeling her hands. Everything was a blur. I tried to clear the tears from my eyes so that I could see her.

But it wasn’t Sarah. It was someone else—her face calm, almost serene. She pulled me from the sand, her hands steady, grounding me in the chaos. I coughed as she offered me water, letting it trickle from her cupped hands. My body felt distant, like it wasn’t mine. Every movement took more effort than I had to give.

She fed me something bitter, something that turned my stomach. I chewed with whatever strength I could muster, the taste of raw sinew and fat thick on my tongue. It was foul, but it pulled me back, anchoring me to the world. Slowly, the haze lifted. The earth grew solid beneath me, the ground no longer shifting like a dream. I heard Frank’s voice, distant but insistent, calling me back.

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

Jack! Damn you! Wake up!

“I’m okay,” I croaked.

Gods, Jack. I thought I lost you.

“Can’t get rid of me that easy, Frank.”

I choked down another bite from the stranger's hand, the taste turning my stomach. She sat beside me on the ground, her dress flowing like a flower in the desert, a beacon from another world. She looked like a photo from a different reality, cut out and placed here, glowing with her own ethereal light.

“Who are you?” I managed.

"Shhh," she said, "There'll be enough time for questions once you’ve eaten." She fed me more. It was bits of a dead imp. I almost vomited but managed to keep it down. I drank deep blue water from a bottle she handed me.

Slowly, I regained my senses enough to see her more clearly.

"You're an Eternal," I said, more a statement than a question.

She smiled. "Yes."

"And you saved me."

"Two for two, Jack Callaghan."

"Why?"

"Someone's got their thumb on the scale, tipping it the wrong way. I'm just here to provide some... balance."

"Who are you?"

"Who is anyone? I'm me. You're you. I've been called many things. Some kind, some terrible. But is a thing its name, or is it more? Once, I was just a girl. Long ago, before I took up this office."

"Office?"

"The Eternals, we aren't born this way. Each of us was once mortal, like you... used to be. And one day, we’ll pass on, handing the hat to another."

"Then, what’s your 'hat'?"

"Ah, an intelligent question at last. I weave the threads of fate—the journey from past through present to future. The spinner, the measurer, and the blade that cuts the thread." With each word, her face shifted—from a young woman to a middle-aged mother, to an elderly, wrinkled form, then back to her youthful self.

"But why help me?"

"Because, Jack, I have my own way of balancing the scales. And right now, you're part of that balance."

I could see the ages in her eyes, the burden of endless cycles of reality.

"It’s not yet your time, young Jack Callaghan. Though, some forces seem to disagree. It wasn’t your time at the dock that fateful night. It’s not your time now. That is my domain."

"I thought Death decided these things," I said.

She chuckled, a sound like chiming bells.

“Death and I work closely, but no. He shepherds souls that have shed their mortal coils. But when that form is shucked, that is by my design. Except with you. Someone circumvented me that night and, how would you say it, ‘offed’ you? Without my approval or plan. That’s why I allowed Death to bring you back. There’s a cosmic balance at play. An Eternal cannot interfere without granting another the automatic permission to do the same. How we use our permissions is up to us, but we usually cannot infringe upon another's domain. Usually. I can’t tell you more without surpassing my permissions. Only that you’re on the right path. And you must stay true to your course. You’re only at the beginning, young Jack Callaghan. There’s a long way for you on this path yet. Now eat. You need to regain your strength.”