A Little Girl and Death

His devastation crushed her heart. Her best friend, confidant, and brother, felt a crushing misery. The love of his life was gone, dead by her own hand. She knew of Kara’s misery; she had seen Kara’s sorrow in dreams. Furthermore, she had overheard enough snippets of conversation to know her dreams were spot-on. One person should never have to handle such agony. The additional pain of her brother trying to end their relationship sent Kara over the abyss. She wondered when he’d become wroth with their father, the one who forced him to end the relationship. So far, he partially blamed himself, and he partially was simply anguished beyond words.

Many attempted conversations and numerous hugs later, she was at a loss; she had no idea how to help her brother. There had never been an injury that couldn’t be healed. No one ever was helpless; at least, she’d never seen it. No matter what situation, there was always a cure, a remedy. She had heard people died, but no one ever had before. Injuries that’d fell lesser men didn’t kill anyone she knew.

Thoughts of magic swirled inside her mind. Incidental magic was commonplace. Small injuries healed at a touch. Using herbs and tonics was also familiar. However, those weren’t adequate. No herb had the ability to reverse death. Once, her mother mentioned spells to her. Spells could do wondrous things that innate skill perhaps could not. “Spell work is quite challenging”, her mother explained, “Words alone are quite inadequate. There must be command and resolve behind the words you utter.” Now, she had no idea if she had the force of will, but she’d have done anything to stop her brother’s misery.

Her mother’s tomes were where they always were. The chestnut shelf in the fourth room on the right, down the corridor she seldom walked alone. Substantial and ancient, they all seemed to be. Magic had its own language; to comb through the titles alone was a feat. Her mother always told her that books of magic always presented themselves. “Their auras,” she whispered, “speak to you.”

“Their auras,” she whispered to herself now as she closed her eyes. She spread her aura out, as if it had tendrils, to the books. Her energy caressed each one, and each responded with its voice. One book, seemingly older yet less worn than the rest, spoke the loudest to her heart. It contained potent magic, magic that could do dreadful and wondrous things. Carefully, she slid the book away from its mates and into her hands. Her aura still connected to the book, it seemed to tell her to what page to turn. At first, the letters and words were nonsensical. The language of magic was one that practitioners labored over for countless years. Yet, her own magic was strong. Running a finger across the text, feeling the ink absorbed into the paper, the words began making sense.

Heart hammering and tears threatening to fall, Amelie began to sing softly,

Oh fate and fortune,
Lend me your ear.
Something I cherish has been taken away.
Bring it back to me.
Make time erase
And actions undone.
Bring it back to me.

As she sung in her high tiny voice, the hairs on her neck stood at attention. Her skin prickled with the energy building around her. She felt the presence before she turned her head and dropped the book in shock.

“Shadow,” she whispered frightfully.

Shadow, Master of Death and King to Ghosts, knew this tiny girl almost bursting with potential magic.

“Amelie, you seek to reverse Death. Yet, you have no concept of why Death exists.”

Everything was always a lesson, but she did not want to understand death. She simply wanted it to have not happened to Kara.

“Death has made Marc sad.”

“Death has a tendency to do that to those it leaves behind, especially when a loved one causes her own. You cannot reincarnate someone simply because the loss is saddening. I have only given one person back life.”

“Mi-?”

“Yes, she.”

“Why can you save her but not Kara,” Amelie asked, now crying openly.

“Because, child, she was not supposed to die. Death was waiting for Kara.”

“I don’t understand,” she replied in an almost wail, “Why was Kara supposed to die?”

“Death is not something to understand, Amelie. It claims everyone when it is time. It was Kara’s time.”

“But-“

“Hush little one. I can feel Marcus’ devastation. It emanates from his aura so strongly. He truly loved her.”

A sob broke through Amelie’s lips. The weight of her brother’s anguish crushed her.

Shadow watched Amelie break down, and he wanted to console her. Yet, she had uttered powerful magic, magic that pulled at his mind. It tried to compel him to do what he could not. People were supposed to die.

“Little one, one of us must break this spell.”

“Huh,” she squeaked through tears.

“Your spell demands an answer, yet I cannot do as you have commanded. I can break such a spell, but at a cost to you. You need to try.”

The words bubbled up, though she had no knowledge of them. Breaking a spell is not about precision but intent. The words tumbled out through her sobs and breaking singing voice.

Fate and fortune
I know now what I must do.
I must…cry and move on.
Today is not the day
To break the bonds of Death.
She is…gone…

The sobs took over and wracked her tiny frame. Shadow sighed and lifted her into his arms.

“Shh,” he whispered gently.

Death’s master had a heart, and it loved his niece. His heart hurt that he could not do what she wished of him, but having power meant having responsibility. He had a duty to honor Death; everyone was its slave.