When Autumn opened her eyes, she found herself in a dream. A dream of blue waters and twisting shores.

Upon the banks of the Feywild, the River Styx crashed, its waters boiling and churning with unlife. The innumerable dead clawed at the prowl of the Ferryman’s craft, reaching for the mortal who’d appeared before them again, even if only in a dream. Further down the winding river, the shoreline changed, transitioning from the twining, strange flora of the Fey to a shadowy, ghoulish realm of undeath. Wispy shades of negative energy pulled at Autumn’s necromantic knowledge.

Although the land of darkness and undeath drew her curiosity, Autumn turned away to glance behind her to where the boat’s captain stood. Clad tall in a tattered, black robe loomed the skeletal visage of the Ferryman.

Many names was he known, but to Autumn, she knew him as Death.

A bleached-white skull grinned down upon the sitting witch as he gently guided the ferry further down the blue river of death.

“You know, many would consider meeting me prior to their deigned death a legendary feat or an omen both. Doing so twice, one might regard it as a concerning habit.” Death lifted a bony brow as he gazed at a shamefaced Autumn. “Perhaps you might entertain a less dangerous hobby. Not that I don’t enjoy the company.”

Autumn shuffled nervously as she sat on the ancient bench. Between her feet, the boards creaked ominously. “It’s not like I was trying to get hurt or anything. I just got into a little trouble, is all. And the first time totally wasn’t my fault!”

“Uh-huh,” Death drawled, his resonant voice filled with disbelief to match the doubtful look he leveled upon the witch.

In her weathered seat, Autumn blushed. “Nevermind that! What exactly do you mean by saying I’m early?”

“I mean only that which I say. No more, no less.” Death shrugged as he turned his attention back to the river. The black robes flowed like the blackest night across his skeletal frame. Seeing Autumn’s look of annoyance out of the corner of his eye, he elaborated with a smile. “You hath arrived ere your time. I see the ends of all, gods and mortals both, and this is not yours. And no, I shall not tell you of such. No good shall come of it.”

“Why not?” Autumn tried not to whine. “Wouldn’t it be better if I knew? I could…could prepare better or something!”

Death smiled sadly. “No, it wouldn’t be better if you knew. I have seen what befalls those cursed with such knowledge. Trust me on this. Oft it is those around the reckless that suffer in their stead. Nor is death the worst of fates. I would not wish such a cursed existence upon you.”

Sulkily, Autumn turned away from the Ferryman. Placing her elbow on the boat’s railing, she rested her cheek on her fist and stared glumly out over the blue towards the Feywild as it drifted by. Hundreds of tiny fairies and pixies darted amongst bright flowers blooming in shining sunlight.

What a truly dangerously beautiful place, Autumn thought.

Behind her, Death said nothing. Her actions had not offended him. He was content to let her gather her thoughts in sullen silence.

Autumn eventually let out a sigh and glanced back at the Ferryman. “Sorry for snapping at you,” she apologized.

Death gifted her a smile. “It’s quite ok. I know you have a lot going on, and I don’t mind the silence. You could say I’m used to it.”

“That’s no excuse,” Autumn argued. “You didn’t deserve that.”

“As I said, I don’t mind. Complain all you like. Ask what you will. If I had an ear, I’d lend it to you.”

Autumn stifled a smile. “If you can’t tell me when I’ll die, can you at least tell me if I’ll succeed in my task? In killing the hag — Mildred the Finger-Eater? You do know about that, right? Can you see when she’ll die?”

Death hummed. “I know of your plight. However, I cannot tell you.” At Autumn's sullen look, he elaborated. “Not that I will not, but that I cannot. While it is true I see the end of all things, what comes before isn’t within my purview. Nor would I wish it to be. How boring an existence it’d be to know all, see all. I much prefer to see how the stories unfold towards the ends I see.”

“So what? We’re all just stories,” Autumn huffed.

“A story, yes, but not just,” Death chuckled, not minding her impertinence. For a moment he hummed, the sound a dirge. “You must understand, I am old. Older than gods. Older than time and the universe both. I was ancient when those ideas were first crafted. I have seen all stories play out many, many times over. Both the good and the bad. What you see as free will, I see as a familiar well-worn path.”

“Even this? Us talking?” Autumn asked, her curiosity plain on her face.

Death laughed. “I’ll admit, this is a first. Few heroes are so bold when talking with me.”

Autumn blushed.

“It’s nice.”

“Yeah,” Autumn shyly muttered in agreement. With how genial he was, it was hard for her to remember this was death itself. Still, she mustered the courage to further ask. “So we’re just all marching preordained paths? Is there a point to it all? To anything? Do my choices matter, or am I just playing a part?”

“Of course your choices matter. As do you,” Death reassured Autumn. “Just because your path has been treaded before, doesn’t mean it’s not worth walking.”

Death paused. Turning his bony visage away, he glanced over the waters, lost deep in thought. For a quiet moment, all Autumn heard was the sound of the boat cutting through the water and the sullen screams of lost souls. Eventually, Death continued.

“None can control your actions. Not the Fates nor the so-called-immortals who’d meddle in your journey.”

“Meddle? What meddling? Who’s meddled with me?”

“Look now, Autumn. We pass by Inmortui, the realm of undeath.”

Following Death’s gaze, Autumn looked upon shores of undeath. Endless armies of rotting ghouls, chattering skeletons, and terrifying abominations stretched out to a horizon dominated by thousands upon thousands of shattered towers and broken fortresses beneath a sunless sky. Ghosts and ghasts swirled through inky clouds of negative energies high above. As she looked towards that darksome realm, thousands of sunken eyes glared back.

Nervously, Autumn turned back to Death and repeated her question. “What meddling?”

Death sighed. “Before you ever stepped foot on distant shores, Witch Augus foresaw the ascension of the hag you hunt and conspired with the fairy king to end her ambitions in the cradle. A war between the hag and the Summer Court, they did scheme. To mire her in an endless war that’d deny her the godhood she craved. By dangling the Tome of Witchcraft before her ravenous eyes, it was easy enough for them to lure the hag into their trap. You were just a vector for their goals.”

Autumn’s thoughts were spinning wildly. “I-I don’t understand. What are you trying to say?”

“You have no destiny to kill the hag,” Death said happily.

Autumn blinked in confusion. “Umm, ok? I never assumed so, but why are you so happy about that?”

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

“Because you are ordinary! Oh, don’t frown so, young woman. You should rejoice in your normality! Far too often, grand stories such as yours are about Demi-gods, beings literally born to greatness. It is ever so boring. While their trials might be great, so too are their innate gifts. Harsh as it is to say, you share not in their grand gifts. But! I find you far more interesting for it.”

“If I’m so ungifted, why did they pick me then?” Autumn snarked.

Death rolled his non-existence eyes. “I never said you were ungifted, Autumn, just not so as birthed legends. They chose you by virtue of name. Perhaps in another life, a girl named after summer might’ve taken your place. Less so for spring, and there is a reason mothers dare not name their children after the winter season.”

Autumn slumped in her seat. “I knew it was because of my name, but it being the only reason? Just because of that? Does luck hate me or something?”

“I doubt she cares. Although we aren’t on speaking terms anymore.”

“Oh?”

“She cheats at poker,” Death said with a scowl.

Autumn snorted. “It’d still be nice if she could give me a break once in a while.”

“Don’t hold your breath. She’s a fickle, vengeful bitch.”

A burst of laughter escaped Autumn. Death too chuckled at the sound. “You don’t need the gods’ help, anyway. I have faith you’ll do well.”

Autumn blushed.

Taking a moment to settle her thoughts, Autumn chewed over her words. Eventually she turned to gaze up at Death with a nervous seriousness. “Why do you care?”

Death turned to look Autumn in the eye, raising a boney brow at her question. “Why do I care?” he asked.

“Yeah?” Autumn asked as she picked at the rotten wood beneath her fingertips. “You’re…well…you. Death. Why are you helping me?”

“Can I not?”

“You can,” Autumn ventured. “I just don’t understand why. Like you said, I’m just a mortal girl. No one interesting.”

“Didn’t I just say you were?” Death sighed. “I’ll admit, I did and do have an ulterior motive besides just wanting to. I dislike it when those insolent so-called-immortals meddle in my affairs. Them using my river in their designs is a step too far. It is not some plaything to be used in spiteful games.”

Death’s face was stormy as he spoke, practically spitting the word playthings. Autumn shuddered as the air grew colder, clammier. The souls within the Styx quietened as Death stewed.

“All must die,” he continued. “Some, just sooner than others. If they wish to use the hag’s endless war to further their own gains, they have another thing coming, don’t they?” Death grinned down at Autumn.

Autumn smiled cautiously back.

Slowly, as the lands of undeath passed her by, Autumn contemplated Death’s words. A curious thought congealed within her mind and wouldn’t leave till she voiced it.

“Um, Death? What’ll happen in the end end? Will you die when all else is dust?”

Death laughed. “Don’t be silly. I’ll just wait for it all to start back up again. It’s done so before.” At Autumn’s owlish look, he winked. “Heavy stuff, I know. The universe never seems content to be empty.”

The pair fell into a comfortable silence.

As Autumn internalized her latest mind-bending revelation, she cast her gaze across the waters, taking in the shores of undeath and the many undead glaring back at her.

“Umm, you don’t have a problem with necromancy, right? A-asking for a friend.”

Death blinked before he let out a good-natured chuckle. “Oh, no. You’re fine learning that school of magic, unless you mess around with souls. Using them is fine, but if you start warping and twisting them?” He looked at Autumn seriously. “Don’t. I’ll have to intervene if you do. You don’t want me to intervene.”

Autumn gulped as she hurriedly nodded. “Message received! No soul-warping for me! No, sir!”

“Good,” Death nodded.

Autumn breathed a sigh of relief as Death turned away, looking back forward. A less comfortable silence fell upon the pair.

After a while, Death broke the quiet. “Are you eating well?” he asked.

The sudden question caused Autumn to startle. “Umm, not really? We — that is my party and I — got ourselves in a place where there wasn’t much safe food available. I’ve lost a bit of weight. On the plus side, I got to eat a dragon. Silver linings and all that, right?”

“I suppose. You really should take care of yourself better. If you get the chance, make sure you learn the spell; create food and water, or something similar. Most spell-makers ought to sell it. Also, the Tome of Witchcraft should have it in it.”

Autumn perked up. “So you're saying I’ll get it back?”

Death gave Autumn a dry look. “It’s possible, but whether you do is up to you.”

Sulking, Autumn cast her gaze forward. There she saw the dark shores give way to a sea of clouds. A massive moon loomed over the white, rolling horizon. Grand, yet comforting. Mile high trees rose from isolated islands dotted amongst the curling clouds while giant creatures of dreams swam through its depths. Bellowing whales and glowing fish darted through the cloudy shallows, filling the air with their calls. As Autumn watched, fantastical castles rose out of the clouds high into the starry sky.

“Óneira. The sea of dreams,” Death said. “Your destination, I believe.”

“It is?” Autumn asked.

Death just nodded as he guided them further down the river, steering them towards a dock where a large and ornate silvery gate loomed.

As she watched the strange realm of dreams, Autumn’s thoughts drifted to the unnatural screaming she’d heard when her overuse of magic had knocked her unconscious. When she told Death about it, he hummed for a while before answering.

“It was likely a Dreameater. A spectral creature drawn to feast upon life through dreams, hence the name. Your banshee friend’s presence likely keeps them at bay, but the closer you get to the hag’s domain, the more you’ll encounter. There ought to be some protections within your pilfered spell-book, as Necromancers were known to engage with such creatures.”

Death turned to look back down at Autumn. “How are you doing, by the way? I never asked.”

Autumn shrugged. “Alright, I suppose, given the circumstances.”

“How about your friends? Are you getting along with them?”

Sullenly, Autumn turned away from Death’s gaze, picking awkwardly at the wood once more. “Yes? No? I don’t know. Am I even worth being friends with?”

“Hmm? What do you mean?” Death asked curiously.

“I don’t know. I’ve…I’ve been lying to them, I guess,” Autumn confessed. At Death’s encouraging look, she continued. “About where I’ve come from. Who I am. At first…at first, I lied because I wasn’t sure whether they hated outsiders, — you know, beings from other worlds — but after a while, it just became easier to keep lying. Or at least, omitting the truth.”

Teary-eyed, Autumn aggressively pulled a splinter from the boat’s railing. Awkwardly, she hid it in her palm before death could notice. Looking back towards the robe-clad figure, she asked, “is someone like that even worth being friends with? Maybe I’d be better off alone.”

Quietly, Death spoke. “I do not believe that, and I think neither do you. I know it is hard to admit your mistakes or to admit lying to those you care about, but let me ask you this; when was the last time you took the easier path?”

“What do you mean?” Autumn sniffed.

“Think back. Did you not tell the truth rather than lure those adventurers to their doom against the hag?”

Autumn blinked. “You know about that?”

Death nodded. “I do. I also saw how you chose to pursue the hag rather than take the easy road and retreat with those other adventurers. So then, tell me this, why would this be any harder?”

“I don’t know. It just is, I guess?”

“But you will tell them?” Death urged.

Autumn sighed before steeling herself. “I guess? I mean, I will! It’s…It’s not fair to them. All of them. After what they’ve done for me, it’s the least I can do for them. But,” Autumn slumped in her seat, “…I don’t know if they’ll understand. Am I just a coward?”

“You are not,” Death reassured her. “You just need to have faith in your friends. They’ve stuck with you so far, haven’t they? Trust that they’ll stick with you a moment longer. Either way, this is your stop,” he said, gesturing to the dream-dock they clacked up against.

Autumn quickly alighted from Death’s ferry, stepping carefully so as to not fall into the river again.

“Hey! How come I didn’t get any special power from the river as Achilles did?!”

Death laughed uproariously. “You did! I made sure of it. You think you could have survived swimming in it without it? Fear not spells of instant death — they shall be like water off your back!”

Slowly, Death pushed his boat away from the shore, heading out deeper into the river. Behind Autumn, the dreaming gates creaked open with the sounds of a lullaby. Autumn’s eyes grew heavy at the sound. Yawning, she waved Death goodbye.

“One last thing!” Death called back as he drifted away. “Talk with your friends, Autumn, for you never know when a moment of peace will be your last!”

“Well, that was ominous,” Autumn murmured as she yawned.

Turning around, she made her way through the dreaming gates and ventured into her dreams beyond. What they entailed would swiftly slip from her mind when she finally awoke, but for now, she simply enjoyed them. If they contained a certain red-skinned barbarian and a minx of a catgirl, well, who could say?