Milky orange light glinted off frost-tipped grass as the sun peeked over the horizon, setting the valley on fire. Its warmth embraced the forest beyond and the stone cliffs miles away, engulfed the brooding sea as it scared away the moon. I sat, cross-legged, at the top of a large hill overlooking the valley below. Sunlight pooled at its lowest points, shimmering there as it snaked through the tall grasses, touching first my muddy feet, then my chilled fingertips, rising to warm the skin of my cheeks. My cheeks were never warm until the sun rose; I was always the first to see it, to let its motherly hand cup my face. The sun, to me, was perhaps a safe haven. The sun, to me, was life.
Day lilies bloomed before the treetops behind me saw the rays, and each glittered like a smaller sun for a smaller world, for a smaller body to shine on. They were perfect; the whole place was perfect. There was not a flaw, nor was there ever, nor would there ever be, because everything that happened there was meant to happen. Everything that happened was beautiful.
I would know, because that valley was mine. I created it; from my own deepest, most desired imagination, I willed it into existence many lifetimes ago. That was far before the bustling cities and crowded skyways, far before my greater purpose simply became my job. In the early days, I did not visit the planet often, for there were few who needed my hand... but as the years passed, their populations grew, as did my unfavorable reputation. They did not see me as a relief, or as an angel or even a god; they saw me as a curse, and called me such. They thought me an evil thing, a nuisance, a sign of the greatest weakness. I was not weak, and neither were those who met me; I was strong, and so were they, but the humans could not see that. For creatures gifted with such beautiful eyes, they often acted so blind.
There had been thousands of depictions of my soul; I say soul because most did not get my shape quite right. I suppose there is no real truth, given that I could take many forms, but I'd chosen one in particular and had kept it for centuries. In honesty, I took a liking to the gentle human bodies, with their soft skin and hair, their sharp edges and humble curves, but especially their eyes. So many were confused when I stepped in to greet them, and many called me awful things before they realized I'd only ever helped people.
But I am not those awful things; I am only one thing.
I am Death.
That is not my real name. That is just my purpose. My name is Morrigan, and I am three and a half billion years old. Where there is Life, there must always be Death, and I have guided the souls of this planet since they first emerged from the shadows of the Beginning.
. . .
There are two worlds here – one unseen, connected to the physical Earth. The humans and all other creatures on Earth do not see us, and many do not believe we exist. Mirage, the domain of us bringers of Life and Death, of Panic and Joy, is accessible only to us, visible only to us. Pieces of it are mind-children of the deities... much like I created this sacred valley, Life created the golden forest upon which the sun never sets, Pride created his magnificently treacherous cliffs that hang over the open sea, and Serenity formed their endless waterfall over a pool lined with singing moss and a swirling, balmy breeze. We did not create the landscapes of the human planet, however; we simply arrived when we were needed... and needed we were, though all were not so desired.
I let the timid sun bathe my pale skin in its warmth. I am glad to be immortal, if only because my skin is white as a cold corpse, and I'd burn to death if I were a human. Though I cherish the moon and her forgiving glow, her graceful patience, no celestial being could match my love for the golden orb. I will never forget my first glance, shielding my eyes from the limitless blaze. I had never seen, nor felt anything like it. So every morning I sit atop my perfect hill in my perfect valley to witness the perfect sun rise.
Though I'd never admit I partly do it to be sure it rises at all. I grow such a fear of my own power that I worry I might accidentally kill the sun off, too.
"Every day has a beginning and an end, and not even you can change that."
I turn to find Panic sauntering up my hill, and he sits beside me, mirroring my posture.
"It is tradition," I tell him, and he scoffs.
"One person does not make a tradition. This," he says, gesturing to our surroundings, "is a habit at best." He leans back on his palms and stretches out his lanky legs, silver eyes burning orange in the glow.
"Fine then," I reply. "But there are worse habits to have. And perhaps if you wish to join me every once in a while, we could call it a tradition."
At this, he grins and nods his head, pondering my proposition.
"You like chaos in the mornings."
"Humble yourself, Levi. The humans have not called you that for years."
He flashes his devilish smile when I use his shortened, preferred name. He is Leviathan; at least, that is the name he admires the most out of those given by the people of Earth. Levi says he chose it because it incited the most terror, but even I know that his true motives lie within the fact that the name is most accurate. Levi possesses his own personal magics, as do the rest of us, and his is the ability to shift into a most frightening sea monster. Hence, Leviathan.
That is how many of us chose our names, actually: perhaps being spotted or heard, or even felt by a group of humans long ago, when we often visited the planet. They are creative beings, I will give them that, and many of their titles stuck.
I was one of the first to set foot on Earth, even so when the humans arose, and they had many things to call me. I remember long ago, I wandered the Celtic regions in search of comfort; those were dark times, and I was not so used to releasing so many humans from the planet. It was near the western sea that I found my valley to recreate in Mirage, in all its sparkling glory, with soft mist clinging to sturdy tree trunks. The fragrance of the dazzling wildflowers hung thick in the air. I loved it then, and I have loved it forever since.
But my presence on Earth did not go unnoticed; the pale-skinned people of the north (though not quite as pale as me) recognized me as their generations passed and mine clearly did not. Sightings were few, but humans tell stories, and their memories hold strong.
They called me the Morrigan: The goddess of war and death. But the one reason I chose to keep their name in my heart is because they were the first to face me with bravery instead of fear; they did not fear me at all, actually, and for that I will be eternally grateful.
Beside me, Levi clears his throat.
"Lost in thought?" he asks, twirling a blade of grass between his fingers. I watch as it bends without breaking, and wonder how a creature so small and fragile could withstand the grip of Panic, but a man could not.
"Lost, no," I murmur. "Just roaming. What else is there for a deity to do?"
At this, he chuckles.
"Out of all of us, you may be the most pensive. Even Wisdom pauses to live in the moment."
"Wisdom is revered," I remind him, laying back into the soft grass. "My moments are silent, and when they are not, it is only because you are speaking."
Levi grins. He knows I prod at his ego on purpose, if only to humble him... though in truth, he doesn't need much humbling. We have been friends since the beginning of time; Fear and Death walk hand-in-hand, do they not?
"The sun has risen in full," he notes. "We should consider getting to work."
I know he's right, but these days I cannot release as many humans as new ones are created. One day on Earth is ten years on Mirage, and even so I cannot keep up. Most of us cannot.
"Easier for you to say," I tell him. "My job is not so simple."
"But it is your job, Morrigan. There is no choice."
I know he's right; Death is my responsibility, and those who are ready are waiting for my guiding hand.
"Will I see you at dusk?" I ask. He nods his assurance and disappears in a wisp of gray smoke, presumably to Earth, though I doubt we'll cross paths there... we made an agreement that Panic shall not be present while I am releasing a soul, per my request.
I take one last glance at my valley, then draw a tall oval in the air before me; a substance blacker than the darkest night carves the outline and fills the void within until the portal is large enough to duck through. I emerge on the other side, and Mirage fades away, leaving me floating in the silent abyss above Earth's heavy atmosphere. Stars twinkle in the distance, alluring with their perpetual shine, but I am not here for them. Instead, I listen to the hum of the planet's core and tremble as its electricity flows from my fingertips to the skin of my nose. The noise fades as I open my eyes, and I'm drawn to the place I never much mind visiting.
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