Deux Morts Prose in The Centurion's Riddle | World Anvil

Deux Morts

Artwork by Miklós Ligeti
The Dreamer cries victory, and takes us aloft on pearlescent wings. We go to the entrance of the Rambling Road, where the Spirit of the Well lies in waiting, hovering above her home, Scythe at the ready. She watches the door to the Sixth Avenue in silence, waiting for the return of her adversary. The fellow Death she has challenged -- for further passage down the Rambling Road, and the ownership of the Scythe of Memory...   Tesin leaned into the door, and it grated open. It seemed to weigh a thousand pounds, but she knew it was a mix of exhaustion, and the burden she dragged behind her. Melody was unconscious, a bloody bandage wrapped around her forehead. The worm had been a nigh-impossible challenge for two people. Somehow they'd managed, but Tesin was never truly worried about the Sixth Avenue... It was what came after.   Spirit of the Well: "Well done, Tesin."   The door closed behind her as they entered the well room. She tucked Melody into a corner, placing the mysterious treasure in her arms -- a metal egg covered in clockwork carvings -- and turned back to the Spirit. She hovered ominously, as she always did, Scythe hanging loose in one hand.   There was no ceremony. The Spirit closed the distance in the blink of eye, Scythe meeting Solarion blade. Cold seeped from the Spirit, frost clinging to her robes and skin, spreading to Tesin's armor. She responded by attuning to the photonic mysteries, a corona of Pyric flame surrounding her body. The frost melted away, and the cold was diminshed.   The Spirit retaliated with a sweeping strike, which cut past Tesin's defenses and into her flesh, the force of it sliding her around the room, and away from Melody. She felt her heels hit the side of the well, and heard the moaning of the ethereal spirits within. Normally a hit like that wouldn't have sent her flying...   She was fucking tired.   Tesin launched back with a stellar rush, haloed by her flames, which the Spirit parried with little effort.   Spirit of the Well: "This is all?"   Tesin grit her teeth, catching the Scythe on her shield, but was unable to stop herself from sliding. Each hit was like a moving car -- the only choices were to get knocked back, or dodge it entirely. The Wings were helping with her balance, but it would only be so long before she fell, and then it would be over.   I was born at the top of an hourglass, with two brothers beside me...   Tesin: "Shut up!"   She spoke to both the voice and the Spirit, their taunts mocking her weakness. If only she were fresh. If only she weren't alone... Another swing of the Scythe buried itself deep into her thigh, tearing a chunk out of her armor and her leg. Tesin shook herself, and gripped the hilt of her sword. The road to the Doors was paved with if's and maybe's.   She would take all that was offered.   When the Spirit came again, Tesin blocked the Scythe with her arm, grabbing onto the haft. The Spirit cooed as the sword flashed, digging into her side in three furious strikes, and the two parted.   One eldest above all, and one crimson with new blood...   Blood dripped down her shield arm, and from the Spirit's side.   Before the first grains of sand began to drop, our roles and souls were divided.   Tesin's heart pounded, as full attument to the photonic mysteries thrummed within her, and she used some of that energy to close her own wounds. The Spirit screamed in reply, the sound of it grating on her senses, but even where Tesin failed to resist it -- something saved her. Melody? No... Still down, her head hanging to the side. Was it the voice?   My eldest took control of the Mind, the highest domain of existence. He created identity, and thought, and law.   She was distracted by the revelation, so the Spirit got past her shield, swiping the front of her knees with the Scythe. While her armor protected the tendons, the force of it went down, pounding her heels into the floor, sending sparks of pain up and down her shins. Tesin responded with another rush, which connected this time, and sent the Spirit sprawling in a burst of flame.   My younger took upon Soul, and combined the eldest's gifts into motes of light, creating conscience, individuality, and purpose.   There.   Tesin stepped up, following the Spirit's descent, and attacked one, twice, three times. She felt alive again, despite her injuries, each invocation of the voice strengthening her spirit. It was as if her acceptance was fueling something, giving her the power she needed to win. In any other circumstance it may have frightened her, but there was no time for that here -- a duel between two Deaths was no place for half-measures. The Spirit slipped away from a downward blow, which would have impaled her to the ground, and twirled around Tesin, swinging straight down at her head.   Tesin: "And so the Land was mine to bend..."   ...save the Godswood and Paradise.   The Scythe hit her shield, but her arm didn't buckle. The force passed through her shoulder and into her legs, then dispersed into the ground. The Spirit hissed, floating back to gain distance.   Spirit of the Well: "What are you?"   But Tesin was lost. The words thrumming through her. Her purpose manifest.   I gave these wandering spirits their bodies, and tied them to the Land, and forced them to live together...   Tesin: "So became beauty, horror, and time."   And so the first grain of sand began to fall...   The Wings of Night fluttered. Tesin floated along the ground, her sword arm cocking straight back, her blade parallel with the Spirit's heart. The world moved in slow motion, as the Spirit tried to retreat, and Tesin's sword closed the distance....   The Rambling Road shook, grounding both Tesin and the Spirit of the Well.   The toll of a bell rattled their ear drums, and the souls inside the well cried out with longing. As the duelists met eyes, both knew what had occurred. Pharasma had spoken. The victor was clear.   The voice inside Tesin vanished, and became part of her.   The Spirit of the Well rasped, her voice heavy with loss, as she gazed at Tesin anew.   Spirit of the Well: "Child of Ambrosia."   The Scythe of Memory disappeared from one hand, and passed to another.


Cover image: TWO RAVENS by Miklós Ligeti

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