“You know, you really should check out that job we saw yesterday.” “You think so? I thought of all people you should be the one who would disapprove the most.” The axe came down once more, cutting the log straight in the middle. Winter would arrive soon and he they needed to be stocked, most of all with all those rumors of that Ice-Queen up in the north. Well, he needed to be stocked with it. She didn’t really care about the temperature that much. “Why? You think that just because I am a ghost I am against you destroying other ghosts? Hell no. How many have they killed already? Over ten if that paper we saw is right. You are a bounty hunter! If we were all alive you wouldn’t be asking that question.” “I used to be a bounty hunter. Not anymore.” Down came the axe again. “And I guess you are right. It doesn’t matter if they are alive or dead, does it? They are bad guys, we go and get rid of them.” “That’s right.” The bronze axe came down one final time and the man cleaned the sweat from his brow, smiling at the translucent girl just a few feet away. She had this ability of putting him in a good mood no matter the situation, which spoke a lot about their relation, considering that now he was covered in mud, left from the heavy storm from the previous night, hungry and with his whole body sore from the day spent cutting wood. “You look hot, wanna a little refreshment?” “A little cold would be appreciated.” “Here, give me your hand.” He reached out to her and she reached out to him, the size difference between them being clear when both hands were aligned. His huge muscular figure, the image of a King’s soldier, of one of the greatest bounty hunters of his time, towering over her slender ghostly form. Gently, she touched him and allowed her fingers to pass through his flesh, sending a wave of unearthly cold through him, refreshing his body from all the hard work. “Ahhh, that hit the spot. I think that that’s enough for today. Should last for a good couple of months. What do you think?” he asked, stretching his arms and back. “I think you should take that job.” “Again with that. Fine, I’ll think about it. Let me just take a shower and we can talk about it.” “Ohhh, can I join you?” she asked, a naughty look in her face. “I think that after last time, I’d rather if you didn’t.” “I can’t help if I nearly freeze the water that goes through me!” “The water!? You almost froze ME!” “It’s not that bad.” “That’s because YOU can’t freeze to death.” “Well, can I at least enjoy the view?” “… Fine.” -- He watched and stirred the slow boiling soup as it brewed to perfection in the copper cauldron. Cooking was hard, but it was even harder when you had a constant source of cold around you. At least the drinks were always ice cold. “That smells delicious.” “Of course it does. I made it.” “Aren’t you modest?” “I am only modest when I need to be. In this case, I am only being honest.” “Ha!” “Wanna taste it?” “Hey, that’s mean!” She said, crossing her arms. He always knew what to say to make fun of her. No matter, she had other cards to play. “That’s what you get for making fun of my culinary abilities. Besides, I’ll make sure to Evaporate some of it later.” “It’s not the same. I mean, that spell’s great but it is still nothing compared to real food. I can just… smell it better.” “Yeah, yeah. Moan all you want, it still doesn’t change the fact that I will eat this delicious soup. And you won’t.” “Meanie.” She said, sticking her tongue out to him. Copper plate, silver spoon, the cup was made of bronze. The knives and forks, the cutlery in general, were made from silver, a treasure from some long forgotten task. Before meeting her, he never thought he would use it and had almost sold it. Now he was glad that he hadn’t. Anywhere else, they would use iron. Not here. Not a single piece of iron in the entire house. From the nails in the wall to the hammer used to put them there, everything was made from some other metal. Iron hurt ghosts, burned their very soul. He had seen that happen to her once and never wanted to see it happen again. It had been a stupid mistake, a new tool he had bought and missed the small iron engravings on the side of the hilt. The way she had screamed, the fiery glow from the place where the metal had just touched her skin… He didn’t like even thinking about it. He shrugged these thoughts and returned to the soup. In no time, his meal was ready and he ate as a man who hadn’t eaten for a week. Meanwhile she sat by him, staring at him with her big puppy eyes, trying to making him feel guilty. “That’s not going to work. I am too hungry to feel ashamed for my ability to eat.” “You could at least not sound so satisfied about me not being able to do it!” she said, pouting. “Well sweetie, if you could, what would I mock you about?” “Ha, ha. Big man, mocking a poor, innocent, defenseless ghost.” “Poor? Maybe. Defenseless? Definitely. Innocent? Not in a million years.” “Hey! You are the one who told me that if I were to watch you shower I would have to take my clothes off!” “You were the one who asked to watch me shower in the first place!” If she wasn’t as pale and transparent as she was, he was sure he would be able to see her blush. “… You are a terrible influence. I blame it on you.” “I am glad to accept it.” “Speaking of accepting, what about-” “Fine, I will take the damn job.” “Yay!” “Where is it anyway? It is in some lost city in the south isn’t it?” “Yes…” She hesitated. She wasn’t certain she should say it now. She felt it in her guts that it was something she needed to do, something she HAD to do, but she felt uneasy. She knew that the moment she said where it was he would figure it out. He would understand why he wanted him to accept it and he would feel obligated to do it, even if it brought so many bad memories for both of them. But she had to trust him. “It’s in Varendell.” “Va…” His voice trailed off into silence, as he finally realized the reasons for her interest on the job. Varendell. His last job, some two years ago. The one where he had found her, the ghostly light that lit his life. A gang of three twisted mages that were terrorizing the small town. He had gone there and dealt with them, but not before they had killed several people, his ethereal companion included. “How many ghosts did the paper said there were?” The implicit question was obvious. “Three.” Looked like he hadn’t done a good enough job. -- “Are you sure with this? I mean, you spent all day cutting this stuff, only to waste half of it with… me.” “If it is for you then it’s not a waste. Besides, I can always cut up some more.” “But-” “Hey, relax. It is not such a big deal.” “Really?” There were few times when he had heard her at the brink of tears. Fortunately, this time they would have been from happiness. “Really. Now, let me just light this thing.” The wood quickly became ablaze and filled the small shack with warmth. In any other day, it would have been too much. Too much wood, too much fire, too much heat. But not today. Today, he would take all the warmth he could get. He laid down by the flames, the sweat drops already appearing on his forehead. At his side, she rested, watching him intently. She approached him, her slim form almost disappearing in all that light, and he slowly embraced her in a hug, his arms passing right through her torso, causing him to freeze in the middle of the furnace that had become the little house. She, in turn, embraced him, her arms floating around his neck. Amidst the light of the blazing fireplace, the shed tears shimmered. Tears that held all the anguish inside, the pain felt every time they went through each other but didn’t touch, every hug not received, every kiss not given, everything that could have been but wasn’t. The longing for the sweet touch of another human. That little drop of water that held all the pain, all the loneliness. They here so close, but still worlds apart. Together, but separated by an uncrossable barrier. The knight cried for both of them, for she no longer could. In the middle of that inferno, his lips touched hers, still as cold as death. -- It was still early morning when he started getting ready to depart. It was a one day trip to Varendell and he would like to be back as soon as possible, since she wasn’t coming with him. He prepared some food for the trip and another set of clothes, putting it all in a tight package. When all was packed, he left the wooden house and headed for the small cabin several meters away. That cabin held many memories, shards of the past he had abandoned. It contained his armor, his sword, bows, arrows, battleaxes and all his old equipment. Most importantly, it held iron, and was the only place near the house where his beloved was unable go. He had learned from an old mage, long ago, why ghosts hated the metal. It was too bound to Earth. Every ghost had something that was holding them back here, a gentle pulling that kept them on this plane, while the “other side” pulled them in the opposite direction. Touching iron, a metal so deeply intertwined in the bowels of the earth, was like being yanked back. It tried to hold them back, while their spirit tried to go. The force of the two worlds colliding wasn’t enough to tear them apart, unless it was sharp and blessed, but was enough to burn them like molten stone would. He took what he needed and closed the door. Before we went, he took a simple iron dagger and thrust it against the wall, leaving it stuck there, a tradition from his time as a soldier. You never took the knife out from the wood until the last man came back, alive or otherwise. Finally, all things packed, he headed back, to say goodbye. “Are you sure you don’t want me to go with you?” He sighed. He knew that she wouldn’t understand it, at least not fully. She hadn’t lived what he had lived, seen what he had seen. She had only glimpsed the evil parts of the world, while he had danced with darkness for years. There were few who could claim to understand. “Yes, I am. You should stay here. I have seen too much hate, too much blood, and I know what that can do to a person. To kill and to watch someone be killed, it… changes you. The fact that they are ghosts makes it no different.” “I already died, remember?” “I do, and I am still amazed you are still as happy as you are. Such things have the power to break you, twist you into things you never thought you could be. I don’t want that for you. And also… Do you have any idea what you will feel when you see them? I do. I have been in a position like that, face to face to those that hurt me. Hate. You will relieve memories even I would be afraid of remembering, and you will hate them with every inch of your being. I don’t want that for you. I wouldn’t want that for anyone, but if it has to be someone I prefer that weight to be put upon MY shoulders. Let me carry that burden for you. I couldn’t bear to see you suffer such fate.” “You are worried about it breaking me, but what if it breaks you? You are not unbreakable. You can’t take the pains of others forever. That was why you quit that life in the first place, because you couldn’t bear people’s suffering no longer. And now you are doing it again, because of me!” “It is a burden I take without remorse. I have seen much worse, been through much more. If I happen to break, well...” He said, with a heartwarming smile, “Then you can fix me again, like you did back then. You can talk to me, bring me back from the bottom of the pit, like you did when I first met you. You can be the one who heals the wounded soldier, who repairs the broken knight. Is it too much to ask that you do that once more?” “… No, I don’t think so.” She finally answered, with a sweet smile of her own. “Thank you. Be safe, I will be back before you can miss me.” “I doubt that.” He placed a small, unfelt kiss in her frozen lips. “Never doubt your knight.” “Get back to me in one piece and I won’t.” And with that, he left, making his way through the small road that lead south, losing count of how many times he looked back and thought about returning to the small shack at the end of that dirt path. -- The road ahead was long and lonely, only the sun and the rocks served as company to the weary traveler. It was not long before he swung his sword against the air, training the movements he once used daily. “One never truly forgot how to use a sword, it was the sword that forgot that one was its master.” He never figured out what that meant, but it sounded true enough. As the iron cut the air in movements trained to exhaustion, the mind of the knight travelled to the destiny ahead and to years past. He remembered those mages. They hadn’t been a great challenge to an experienced soldier, but the damage they had done to the defenseless village had been enormous. They were ruthless and Evil in the worst sense of the word. Cruel, sadistic, hateful. And now they were back, causing more havoc and destruction than last time. Magic was always useful to a ghost. It allowed them to interact with the world around, even if ever so slightly. He was trying to teach her, so that she could touch the world she longed for, but it was difficult. Some doors were hard to open once the person had died. But ghost wizards were a reality, as shown by the trio he was hunting. Usually, one would go to quite a length to prevent a wizard from becoming ethereal, to avoid such things as those, but at the time he had been… too busy. He had ran, carrying her bloodied body cut with Dark magic, searching for something, someone, who could cure her, for such wounds were far beyond his power. He had ran through the rain, water mixed with blood running from his arm, looking for a way to save the poor life in his hands. He couldn’t lose her. He didn’t even know her, but even after all the horrors he had ever been through, seeing her broken body, seeing something so innocent so utterly destroyed, had awoken something in him that told him that he NEEDED to save her, for everything that was sacred in this world. If only he could save her, then it would mean that the world wasn’t that bad, that darkness hadn’t completely covered the skies and that there would be a new tomorrow. He felt that if he could just put her bones back in place and make the blood stop coming out, that it would mean that there was still hope, there was still a chance for light. If he could only make her not die, then this world would be worth living for, worth dying for. The last drops fell from the sky, the clouds were beginning to clear, and he still hadn’t found anyone, the small corpse hanging lifeless on his arms. Something broke inside him that moment, when he felt her last breath leave her wrecked lungs, something that couldn’t be repaired. He felt himself losing something that shouldn’t be lost, he could no longer grasp himself and every time he tried he found only anger and sorrow, rage consuming him. And then a light shone in the middle of the night, a dim ethereal glow that had asked him if everything was alright and that, simply by existing, had made it so. What had been broken was repaired, what had been lost, found. The girl in his arms now stood in front of him, her mortal cocoon abandoned. A beacon of ghostly light, showing hope for the future. The knight cleared the tears from his eyes and put his sword away, shoving the memories away from his mind. He still had a long way to go. -- She watched as her knight disappeared in the horizon, leaving her all by herself. Ever since they got together, back when she had died, they rarely were apart. They needed each other, as the burning tree needed water, as the sinner needed salvation, as the drowning needed air. They were like medicine to one another, healing each other’s wounds. She remembered that day, as she felt strong arms hold her broken body and run, screaming words she couldn’t understand, the pain blurring the sounds around her. She could feel her strength leaving her, see the darkness approaching, and yet all she wanted was to comfort that man. He looked so sad, so lost. She just wanted to put him between her arms and tell him that everything would be fine, that all she needed was a little rest. She had closed her eyes, her mind so mangled that it was already numb to the pain, and took one deep, final breath. She felt herself leaving, going up, up into the clearing skies, into the shining light of the moon. She was no longer herself, but a part of everything else, becoming nothing, yet at the same time, everything. Her mind fragmented and shifted, her thoughts mixed and confused, unwilling to go. There was still something she had to do. She couldn’t leave now, she couldn’t leave him, wrecked, destroyed. She had to say something, comfort him, give him hope. No, she couldn’t leave. Not yet. Her mind healed and became one again. Her Everything became One. Her mind became coherent once more and she opened her eyes, finding herself right next to the man who had held her broken body, the man who was STILL holding her broken body, even though she no longer occupied it. “Sir, are you alright?” He had looked at her, at first scared, but as he recognized her, his features became softer, his eyes wider, looking as if she was the most beautiful sight he had ever seen, as if she was a living miracle, an undeserved blessing. After all they had been through together, and after all he had been through before meeting her, she thought that if she truly was a blessing, it was in no way undeserved. She sighed, finding unfair that he could cry, and she couldn’t. -- The city had been a mess. It had been as unprepared as it had been two years ago, and the devastation had been even greater. It did not matter. As it had been two years before, so had been on that day, and the knight ended with the blood of his enemies on his sword. He cleaned the bright, fiery liquid from his blade and threw the soaked cloth on the grass, watching as it grew, as beautiful as it could be. It was funny how death could bring life to bloom. Pure life essence, the core of a ghost, as necessary for its non-life as blood was to the living. The liquid was the purest essence of that person, distilled into the personality of the one from which it had come from. It showed a ghost’s true being, his real self. It was no surprise when the flowers that had so quickly formed turned dark and withered away. He had helped the injured, healed the ones he could heal, aided the ones he could aid. He had forgotten, after so long, how it felt to save a life. To save someone else’s life, there were few feelings that matched such sensation. Being a bright light in the darkness, the healer of the broken, the savior of the lost. Protector and Guardian, to fight for a better world, to defend the frail. He had forgotten how important hope was, and how gratifying it was to be its cause. The Hero, he had once been called. He had failed to recall why he once wore that title with such honor, but he remembered now. He had once looked to the heavens and found them silent, not a word to answer his desperate prayers, but yet he continued, for the quietness of the sky did not change what was right. That was a hero’s work. If there was nothing but what they made in that world, it was up to the Hero to make sure that it was Good. He looked at the healing land, the vigor and strength that city once took from him now given back, smiled wholeheartedly, and made his way back home. -- The Hero carefully left his things outside his house, to avoid making any noise, and slowly sneaked in, with the darkness of the day quickly fading into the moonless night as his cover. It was not always that he had the chance to scare her, it was usually the other way around, and he wasn’t going to let it pass. If he knew her, she would be reading in their room, using her weak magic to slowly turn the pages of some old book. His years of adventuring were useful, and even in the creaky wooden floor he managed to make no noise. Ever so gently, with calm but firm steps, he approached the old oak door, which was just slightly open, enough that he didn’t have to twist the door-knob. He took another step, and then burst into the room, screaming like a maniac. Aaaand nothing. She wasn’t there. Well, that had been a waste. And with all that screaming he had probably given himself away. A perfectly good opportunity, thrown in the trash. Pity. Still it was weird, he thought she would be in the house, but maybe she had gone out to- A frail scream broke the silence, raising every single hair in his body. For a second, he froze, recognizing the desperate plea. Fear overwhelmed him, a fear so powerful that almost held him in place. Before he even realized, he was bursting again through the front door, searching for the source of the sound. He tried to calm himself down. Nothing could hurt her. She was fine. She had to be. It probably had been some wild animal that had scared her, nothing else. She was all right. She couldn’t not be. She couldn’t not- The cold night air blew in his face as he looked in horror to the only source of light beneath the starry sky, the white ethereal glow right beside the small tool shed, right beside all that iron. He ran towards her, the few meters separating them seemed like an eternity, time stretching, becoming slow as he looked as the unfathomable scene. His love, shining brighter than she ever had, sat beside the wooden shack, her hand raised, gripping tightly the iron blade stuck in the wall of the cabin, her fiery blood running down her arm and dripping into the grass beneath her. He slid in his knees as he reached her, passing through the garden that had formed around the shed. He could see her weak smile and the heart-shattering pain she tried to hide behind it. For the first time in his life, the Hero was at a loss of words. “Good, you are back. It was –ah- starting to get uncomfortable.” Her voice sounded as if she was in the brink of tears, her unspoken agony piercing his very soul. “What, what-” His mind was confused, facts tried to come together but failed, reality refusing to make sense. “Shhhhh.” She softly placed one hand against his face, without touching it, comforting him. “You did it. You saved them all, didn’t you? I felt it the moment you did it. It was if a weight had been taken from me. I felt free and light, going up into the sky. I felt myself leaving, but I couldn’t leave you. Remember what you once told me? The iron yanks us back to earth, even if for just a moment.” He stared for a moment, refusing to understand what she had said, looking at her as if she had uttered complete nonsense, but eventually his eyes grew wide and he felt a chill that started at the back of his spine but then grew to consume his entire body, something telling him that he had done something terribly, terribly wrong. “No. You can’t be serious, not after all we’ve been through.” Tears started streaming down his face, the feeling of dread swelling in his chest, engulfing his heart. He had done it, he had been stupid. He had overlooked a gigantic fact, one that he shouldn’t have, but was too blind to see, too willing to take revenge on those who had hurt his beloved: Ghosts stayed on earth for a reason. “I hadn’t realized until it was too late. We can’t escape our mission. I couldn’t escape mine and made you complete it without ever noticing it. We are bound here and the moment you saved all those people, you finished it.” Her grip tightened around the cold metal dagger, her face twisting in pain, her eyes closing in the unbearable agony she felt. “It can’t be!” Even in the open, he felt as if the walls were closing around him, constricting, holding him in place. He was losing her and could do nothing about it. There was no monster he could kill, no sorcerer to destroy, no evil he could vanquish to stop what was happening. He had seen it happen before, too many times. It had to be wrong. Not even reality could be so cruel as to take her away from him. But reality, it seemed, little cared for what he wished. “We were meant to be together, you and me! I need you! You can’t go… It… It is not fair!” He willed the world to be different, but it refused to change. The world denied to become fair, to budge his eternal neutralness to the childish argument of a desperate man. “IT IS NOT FAIR!” Tears ran through his skin and fell on the grass beneath him, his face as that of a child without its mother, lost, confused, desperate, terrified. “No, it is not…-ah!” She smiled a pained but kind smile, filled with pity, not only for the hero, but for herself. “But you already knew that, didn’t you? You were the one who told me that. That it was our duty to fight the wrong, for as long as we could muster. And so you did.” Her glow started fading, from as bright as the full moon to almost see through. Her outline became blurry, the line that separated existence from nothing disappearing, not even the strength of the iron being enough to hold her back anymore. His eyes widened in a desperate plea, begging her not to go. She felt her soul stretching, becoming thin, like butter that had been scraped over too much bread. Her grip on the cold dagger never wavering, but still slipping away. Her mind was fading, her eyes losing focus as she disappeared into the void. “I love you, always remember that. No matter how long it takes, I will wait for you. My love, my knight, my hero.” And from her eyes, a single tear bloomed, a shining pearl of light, carrying all her sadness and sorrow, all her longing and regret, all her desire and fears. It ran through her face and dripped onto the ground, disappearing into the earth, as if it had never been. The hero reached out to her, caressing her face, without ever touching it. His fingers longed for her skin, his lungs for her smell, his mouth for her lips. He wanted to grab her and hold her to this realm, but he knew that he couldn’t, his heart crumbling under its own weight. She looked at her knight, not afraid of death and whatever lied after it, but afraid of losing him. Afraid that if she left, he would lose himself once more. She was terrified of never seeing him again. I love you too, he wanted to say, but the words were stuck in his throat. His hand held in the air, as her fading lines vanished, her soul departing, moving on to whatever was next. As the words failed him, he approached his lips to hers and pressed them together. At that single moment, through the very essence of death, passing though the curtain of what separated here from the beyond, not only ignoring the Veil that split the two worlds, but ripping it apart, he felt her. Not the cold of death, but the warmth of her kiss. He could smell her sweet scent, feel her soft hair between his fingers, her taste in his mouth. For that unique instant, they were together. And she, for the first time in two years, was able to feel something: the taste of salt in his lips. The smell disappeared, the taste vanished, the warmth became the cold of the evening, and the hero was utterly and completely alone. His hand closed into a grip and he screamed at the unforgiving night, a howl directed to the darkness above, containing his wretched heart, his destroyed body and soul. It carried the pain of every scar, the hurt from every broken bone. All his sacrifices, all his unanswered prayers. All his hate and grief held in a sound that echoed for miles and miles, to be heard by no one but the stars. When his throat was too shattered to continue and his mind too hurt to keep going, he closed his eyes and fell to the ground, wishing that death would come and reap him once and for all. Once more, his wish was not granted. -- The Hero looked at the Garden and to all the flowers in it. From death, life bloomed in a rainbow of colors and scents. He put on his armor, slid his sword in its sheath, placed his bow on his back and readied himself to go, for that shack held nothing for him anymore. He took a deep breath and started walking, away from the most beautiful garden ever created. His body was healed, his soul was mended. The sun shone on his back as he walked towards wherever someone needed him. For the first time, he had understood. For weeks he had thought that her mission, the reason she had been sent back to Earth, was to make sure that her killers stayed dead. Now he saw that it was not so. Her mission was to fix the hero, to mend the broken soldier. She was the one that helped the one that had fallen, brought air to the drowning, salvation to the damned. She was the one who healed the healer, who helped the helper, a safe haven in the storm, the shield to protect the incorruptible from corruption. And so she had done. Her love and kindness brought his shattered pieces back together and patched them. She had been the light at the end of his tunnel. In the end, all she needed was a little boost to make the warrior go back to battle. And so it was done. The Hero was whole once more. To help the weak, to be a shield from the corruption, to heal the hurt. He was the one who held the never-dying flame of hope, the one that wouldn’t give up no matter what, a bright light in the utter darkness. He sighed, filling his lungs with that sweet air for the last time, and then walked onwards, to be a Hero to others, as she had been a hero to him. ~End~