Renata
As she inhaled the stale, lifeless air, she surveyed her otherworldly environment. Her eyes squinted against the dull yet overpowering, all-surrounding glow. It was an ashy blue. A strange, familiar blue. She'd been submerged in it, welcomed by it and rejected by it more times than she wanted to admit.
But this was different. All of those instances before, she was on the edge of this land, watching from afar and denied entry. She was pulled back into the world she knew before she truly understood the blue, deathly place she floated near.
Renata looked at the ground beneath her. Blue grass. Blue dirt. She swivelled her head side to side. Blue bark. Blue leaves. The same for the plants.
This is unreal.
Her eyes strained upward, only to be confronted by that same faded, cloudless blue. Like it was once a lively, vibrant blue but was washed one too many times, left to hang out and dry without much more care granted toward it. In a way, it was beautiful in its own tragic right.
It was simply soft and whimsical yet also hard and jaded. A paradoxical space that evoked comfort and acceptance, and a deep, intrinsic fear.
A breeze blew against her cheek. It was cool, like a soft, hesitant kiss. She was almost convinced there was never a stir in the air as she noticed nothing else moved, except for the four of them. It was quiet, though not completely silent. Every rustle led to an echo, an echo that was not loud in the slightest, though it carried anyway, as a scream would. Eventually, that sound faded away too, into the blue.
She looked down at her hands, flipping them back and forth as she realized she felt even stronger than before. Her deeply brown skin was stark against the pale background of this place, and she wondered whether it was bleeding into her, reminding her of when she took from Angel without meaning too.
She felt similarly in this land of the dead but tenfold.
"Renata!"
She returned to the present and looked into Tahoma's concerned, red gaze. "Are you okay?" His words echoed. It was almost unnoticable if she didn't pay attention.
"I'm fine." Her eyes flitted toward Keone and Balam. Balam was flat on her back, and Renata sensed that the woman was slipping away. "She's not."
Renata rose to her feet and kneeled beside Keone, looking down at the struggling Balam. She gasped for breath, the heartbreaking sounds filling the air. Her body was covered in black slashes. Her long dark hair fanned around her head in thick, wavy tendrils. Her face contorted with pain. "Please," she whispered, and a red spittle sprayed upon the border of her lips. "Make it stop. Make it stop."
Renata felt two sides of herself clash at Balam's request. Her more human side swelled with denial, and desired her survival. The other, new, alien part, wanted to welcome her into its arms, absorb her until she was completely at peace, in sync with the universe and outside of the living world, the next step in her existence.
Her eyes welled with tears. Her voice was hoarse. "You did so well. You've helped save the world, I promise."
Those words immediately put Balam at ease. The stress from her face lessened and the softest of smiles graced her pale lips. She closed her eyes, and the trust in her body language pushed Renata to act. She put her palms flat against Balam's body, and those black marks moved from their spots and into Renata's fingertips, moving up her wrists and arms, like swirling, loving snakes. They were cold but not uncomfortable. Renata inhaled deeply, inhaling the end of Balam.
Then, as she faded away, the blue seeped into her still form, soaking into her clothes and her skin and her hair, until she blended into the rest of it. Beneath Renata's fingers, she sunk into the ground, falling peacefully into her resting place until none of them could see her anymore.
But Renata could. She saw it all. Her first breath. Her first heartbreak. The way she danced when she was by herself. The time she learned to throw a real punch. Renata watched Balam as she became stronger with each passing day, as a human and as an undying being. When she met Munesu for the first time, adored the light side she brought out of him, grappled with his more dominant side. Saw how hard it was to bring her own maker to justiceâpractically serving him up on a plate to Nirvi. How she felt responsible for the death of Awe. The moment she resolved to help Nirvi, and especially Renata, the woman who could supposedly save everyone.
Renata fell back with a sob, caught by Tahoma and his ever-welcoming arms. He held her and consoled her as she tried to grapple with all that was happening.
Soon, she fell into quiet, shallow gasps.
"It's going to be okay," Tahoma told her, and she so badly wanted to believe him, wanted to feel that same conviction.
"Renata?"
She looked up and over at Keone, who's hazel green eyes remained glued to the spot where Balam once was. "What?"
"Are we dead?"
She thought it through, feeling the essence of this place flow through her, not quite a part of her, not quite a part of them. "No. Not yet. If you two stay here too long, you will be."
"How long?" Tahoma asked, and not even he could mask his alarm.
"I'm not sure. We need to get out of here as soon as possible." She exhaled a heavy breath as Tahoma helped her to her feet.
"Can you do that?" Keone's seeking eyes made her feel so extremely responsible for him, for Tahoma, for every person caught in this tug-of-war between her and the grim reaper. "Like before, when you ran from him?"
"I don't know," she admitted, "but I'll try my hardest...most of this has not been intentional." She wiped the tears from her eyes. "It's all been out of fear. I've been leaning against this force within me, and ever since that first night we met," his eyes turned remorseful, "it's grown ever since."
Tahoma kept his arm around her, and he rubbed the side of her arm with affection. "We'll get out of this, together. Don't worry."
"I'm afraid." And she wasn't afraid to admit it, either.
"That's okay." Something she respected about Tahoma was his refusefal to entertain doubt. Though he was a newer presence in her life, she couldn't imagine surviving any of this without him.
"What if I lose myself in this?"
"You won't."
"I hope you're right, Tahoma."
He smiled. "I hope so too." He looked around, and his gaze turned distrustful. "My senses, they're weaker, closer to the human condition than I'd like them to be."
"It's this place," Renata explained. "No one is immune to the effects of this place."
"Except for you," Keone corrected as he studied her. His dark brows pulled low in thought.
She didn't know why she felt ashamed, like she was somehow caught in the act. "How did you know?"
It was hard not to be amused by how obvious it was obvious that Keone was trying to keep his words in check at any moment as he addressed her. Like if he did his best to not offend her at all times, it would eventually erase what he did to her. It wouldn't work, not for at least a thousand years, but Renata couldn't help but find his strange efforts humorous. "You just seem...in your element."
She looked around again, certain they weren't alone in this unknown land of the dead. "I think you're right. It feels foreign but not completely foreign." She hesitated. "I do feel stronger."
"That only proves his suspicions," Keone responded, still refusing to say Death's name outright, like it would somehow summon him.
"That I'm taking his place?" Her heart skipped a beat.
Keone nodded. "I don't think we need anymore evidence."
"As much as I would rather not say this," Tahoma added, "I think he's right."
"He'll never stop chasing me," she said what everyone was thinking, "not until one of us has completely embodied the role of the grim reaper."
Keone's grave face nodded along.
Before she could complain or deny or even just cry some more, the hair on her body stood straight. The goosebumps erupted and she visually saw the blue air around them darken, though nobody else seemed to notice, not until her body seized.
"Renata?" Tahoma asked. "What's wrong?"
"He's here," she whispered, "he's here." Of course, he was. He would never let her have a breath, not unless it was her last one. He would pursue her until all of this was done, until he was reigning once more.
Keone demanded, though with a slight apology in his expression, "what should we do."
Then, the sounds of soft, pursuing steps resounded. Twittering. Growling. All echoing in the blue world. His minions. Some from here. Others of the shadow kind. They would be on them soon enough.
"Run!" she gasped.