The gusty winds from the endless lands flow over Baryl like water over rocks in a river. This air has been all over the continent, it has seen the arcane isles named for their complexes of mage schools. It has seen the alterna valley, and forests with trees that are said to touch the clouds and has glided with ease over the salty ocean that is said to encompass the entire planet. The wind has seen both the greatest goods and the most evil of horrors, it has lifted the bodies of birds and stirred the most reckless of chaos among the humans. It pushes the clouds around, blocking the sun wherever it wills, and even destroys cities with its strong vortexes. The wind is neither good nor evil; it is only free. It may will to either power the windmills and push the sail boats or make it deadly cold and blow down homes. No one knows why the wind works so mysteriously nor where it comes from and no one questions it for they all have faith that the will of the wind just simply is what it is and will always be.

     Cherim opens the doors from inside the inn and can hear trees, decoratively planted throughout Baryl, rustling their green leaves as the wind, with an ever so light force, blows the branches around using leaves as sails. Cherim is quite fond of the wind and respects it greatly, having been guided by the winds throughout his journey around the continent. The wind has served him great company throughout his travels, making him feel less alone, at least when he wasn’t being hit by any sort of strong storm the wind brings over occasionally. In this depressed empty place, now being infested by rats slowly but surely, the wind feels soothing for him, especially since it’s calm. Cherim finds Snowy still reigned under the covered horse park and the companions make their way down the road to look for food.

     Even though no people were left, food was still left around much to Cherim’s convenience. He finds a tiny unlocked house and walks inside, and sure enough on the dining table right in front of the door lays crispy steak, half eaten into. As much as Cherim wanted to eat a delicacy usually consumed by rich folks, he realizes that the steak had long since lost any heat it may have had when it was first cooked and decides he should stick to eating bread for breakfast. Bread being one of the most commonly eaten foods throughout the continent, everyone has at least a dozen loafs around the home. Sure enough, when Cherim opens the bread box left on the tabletop, he is delighted to see it full of bread as he thought it would be. After leaving the tiny home after being satisfied with his haul, Cherim finds a hay bale for Snowy to munch into. The horse’s stomach growled as she ate the dry, dead grasses.

     Cherim waits for Snowy to finish her breakfast while he eats some bread and ponders what to do now that he is unarmed and has no real idea as to how far away the next town may be. He needs a weapon to defend himself with as there are many dangers that walk the world. ‘I haven’t seen any blacksmith around, but I’ll bet I could find a weapon in a random house.’ Cherim silently hypothesized. Instead of trying the doors for another unlocked house, Cherim goes to the house with the meat in it as it clearly belonged to a rather wealthy individual. He casually walks in as he did previously and sure enough by the door stands a weapons rack with a sword.

     Cherim takes the sword off the rack, the warm breeze grazes his brown clothes as he lifts the shining steel object. The weight of the metal and the length of the blade, Cherim noticed, was not his size but was instead too big for him to use practically. ‘Damn!’ he internally seethed. ‘Obviously it would’ve been too easy to just have the perfect sword laying around.’

     Cherim’s anxiety lingers around in his head, an invisible force giving him fear. The longer he was without a weapon, the more anxious and desperate he felt. ‘Gah! Of all times, why does this invisible grip have to disturb me now?’ his annoyance boiling, his fear rising, the room feels crushing to be inside of. He feels something bad was going to happen, but he doesn't know what. His head swirls with thoughts blinking from one horrible experience to another ranging from thievery to treacherous storms, and now this ominous town that should have people in it but doesn’t. Cherim collapses on the floor and can't stop trembling.

                                                                   …

     An agonizing hour rolls by with Cherim huddled on the floor. He couldn’t breathe normally throughout the whole hour. He had regained some control but is still minorly shaking. “Oh, someone make it stop.” He begs with a whispered breath out loud. It didn’t matter to him if there was no one to hear his pleas, he couldn’t stop himself from doing so anyways.

     “You alright?” a child standing above Cherim softly asks.

     “Who’s there?” Cherim asked desperately. He can’t see the child because he is holding himself off the floor with his face down, but he can see two white bare feet in his peripheral vision.

     “Relax.” the child softly instructs. Cherim can feel a warm hand melt into his back, and immediately all his tensions relax, and his mind stops racing. He can feel an overwhelming exhaustion wash over him as he turns to sit up right. His breathing normalizes and he is able to look at the child.

     Upon looking, Cherim realized that the voice came from no child, but instead he laid eyes on a child’s body in a dark robe, pale white and boney skin, a huge glinting scythe and pitch-black pupils in his eyes. No, this is no child, it’s a reaper. Cherim had only seen a reaper one other time, a time he would rather forget but can’t as it haunts him in his dreams. His recognition could not possibly fail him now.

     “You’re… you’re a reaper.” Cherim trembles.

     “Yes." The being can see fear in Cherim’s eyes, almost about to erupt into tears, perhaps he would beg for mercy or for borrowed time.

     “Please don’t tell me that I died again.” Cherim whimpers.

     “You didn’t.”

     “What?”

     “You didn’t die, I’m not here to take your soul.”

     “Th-this isn't real, right?” Cherim feels relieved but at the same time apprehension lingers in his mind. Nothing is normal about this interaction.

     "It is real. Now, let me ask you again, are you alright Mr. Hopkins?”

     “How the hell am I supposed to know? It’s never a good sign to be approached by a reaper."

     “Why not?”

     “Well because it means that I’m dead.”

     “Not this time I’m afraid, Mr. Hopkins.”

     “What is this then?”

     “Your destiny, Mr. Hopkins.”

     “You can just call me Cherim.”

     “Okay, Cherim. I’m Charles Johannes, at your service.” A rush of disbelief flowed through Cherim’s body like river rapids. ‘A reaper coming to serve me? What is this?’ he's stumped.

     “Okay, Charles, what is going on? Why are you here? Why are you approaching me? If not for my soul then what for? Why is this town empty of humans?”

     “I have been assigned to be your companion until further notice.”

     “What?” Cherim has mixed emotions about it all. It’s one strange thing to have one of death’s agents approach you to not take your soul, it’s a completely different world entirely when that agent becomes your companion among the living.

     “What the hell do you mean you’ve been assigned to be my companion? Since when did reapers do that?”

     “As a reaper, I must serve the lord of death from beyond, when death tells me to do something, I must obey that command. I am your companion now, and also your guide, your protector and your teacher.”

     “Wait, wait, wait, I have way too many questions for you to answer.” Cherim admitted.

     “I know, Cherim. I’ll answer as many as I can.” Charles extends a thin hand out towards Cherim.

     “Come with me, Cherim, you have a long journey ahead of you. I’ll explain it all on the way to the next town, we can get you a new sword there.” the soft words oozes from the cloak. The pitch-dark silk covered almost every centimeter of his body, the only parts remaining bare are his face, his hands and his feet. Cherim feels immense apprehension rushing in his mind.

     “You know where the next town is?” Cherim asks with his feeling of unsureness drifting in the air.

     “Of course, and I made sure it has people in it.” Charles responds. Cherim thinks about it for a moment. Sure, while it may be a reaper outstretching his hand for Cherim to willfully take, why wouldn’t he trust it exactly? Reapers never lie, or at least that is what he has been told, he has no weapon, and he has no clue where the next town is, while the reaper does. It feels a little too good to be true, but there’s not much hurt in at least seeing what Charles has to say to him. From the sounds of it, it doesn’t sound like Charles will be leaving any time soon, companions don’t just stop following their masters after all. Still, it is very odd for a reaper to be doing any of this, but then again a god’s demand is a god’s demand, and if death wants something within reason, then the reapers must serve death. Cherim figures he has no way out of this, without any sense of direction, without any weapons, without any way of denying the reaper, he extends his hand towards Charles’, and is pulled to his feet.