✦ INTERLUDE — FLASHBACK
The Night the First Reaper Was Chained
A long time ago — before the Citadel, before the doctrine of judgment, before Kaelith wore a crown of shadow — the Reaper Order was still young.
There were no ranks.
No lantern prisons.
No chains.
Only one scythe.
And one Reaper.
Theron
He stood at the edge of creation, scythe resting against his shoulder. Souls drifted past him like falling feathers — gentle, curious, unafraid.
They knew him not as executioner…
…but as guide.
He led each soul to whatever peace they sought. Not a heaven.
Not a punishment.
Just a place where they could rest.
Theron knelt to a small child, her spirit flickering like sunrise.
"Where do you wish to go?" he asked.
She pointed to the horizon toward a field of wildflowers.
Theron smiled. "Then there is where you will be."
And so it was.
One Reaper.
One credo.
Souls are not owned. Souls are not judged. Souls are free.
It changed the day Kaelith arrived.
Not as a Reaper.
As a soul.
Bound in silver chains.
Eyes full of fury and grief.
He had died young — murdered in war. A prince whose kingdom never mourned him.
Theron cut Kaelith's chains with a single sweep of his scythe.
"You are free," Theron said gently.
Kaelith stared at him as if the word free tasted foreign.
"What do I owe you for this?" Kaelith whispered.
Theron shook his head. "Nothing."
Kaelith bowed.
He lied.
Kaelith did not pass on.
He stayed.
He watched Theron. Studied him. Questioned everything.
"If souls are free," Kaelith would ask, "why do some return to torment the living?"
"Because they are lost," Theron answered.
"And lost things need order."
Theron smiled faintly. "They need compassion."
Over time, Kaelith became more than a soul.
He became Theron's second.
Theron trusted him.
Theron loved him — not romantically, but profoundly, like one soul recognizing another.
And Kaelith loved Theron too.
But love turned to envy.
Because Kaelith saw what Theron was:
Power.
Theron could shape afterlife itself with a thought.
Kaelith wanted that.
He wanted a world that obeyed.
The night everything changed, Theron returned from guiding a soul. He found Kaelith waiting in the Citadel's great hall — though it wasn't a fortress then, merely a sanctuary carved into stars.
Kaelith stood with other souls at his side.
Hundreds.
No longer wandering.
Followers.
"Theron," Kaelith began, "you waste power."
Theron frowned. "Power is not meant to be used."
Kaelith stepped closer. "Then why were you given it?"
Theron hesitated. "Because I asked for none."
Kaelith smiled without warmth.
"That is why you are unfit."
Souls behind him lifted their hands — forming the first scythes.
Theron's chest tightened. "Kaelith… what have you done?"
"I gave them purpose," Kaelith answered. "Judgment. Order. Finality."
"That is not our way—"
"It will be now."
Kaelith reached toward the scythe at Theron's side.
"I ask only for half your power."
Theron stepped back, shocked. "You cannot divide what I am."
Kaelith's voice dropped to a whisper.
"Then we will take it."
The scythes moved.
Theron fought without striking to kill — parrying, redirecting, trying to protect.
His compassion became weakness.
Kaelith seized the opening.
Silver chains burst from the ground, wrapping Theron's wrists and throat. Runes burned across his skin.
Theron gasped, choking.
"Kaelith—"
Kaelith cupped Theron's face with trembling hands.
"I am sorry."
His voice fractured.
"But I will fix the world you refused to shape."
Theron tried to speak — to reason — to reach him.
But the chains silenced him.
Kaelith pressed his forehead to Theron's.
"You made me free," he whispered. "Now I will free everyone from choice."
He unleashed the binding spell.
Theron fell into darkness.
The last thing he saw was Kaelith's tears.
From that night on:
Souls were judged.
Reapers were forged.
Lanterns were filled.
And the first Reaper —
the one who believed in freedom —
was erased from history.
Chained.
Forgotten.
Until Eryndor.