UNTIL DEATH UNDOES US

Brianna watched from the rooftop as Danny Keith drove Richard Smith away from Valtox Hospital. Her blood-red dress danced with the wind, wild and ghostly. She licked her scythe's silver blade and smiled faintly.

Then a gust of wind swept past her.

And just like that—she was gone.

---

She reappeared deep within a dark forest—lush yet lifeless. The trees stood in silence, draped in a shroud of shadow. The air was damp and still, like a grave waiting to be filled. Brianna walked barefoot, her scythe cradled in her hand.

Then—

Crack.

A twig snapped.

She stopped.

The leaves rustled behind her.

"Who's there?" she asked in a low, venom-laced whisper.

No answer. Only faint murmurs and whispers that crept like mist through the trees.

Then she turned—and saw them.

A crowd of grotesque, ghost-like figures emerged from the shadows. Wraithfeeders.

They were thin, malformed, dressed in tattered grey robes, skin like rotted parchment. Some floated above the ground like phantoms; others shuffled on decayed limbs. Male. Female. None alive.

"Food… Food… Food…" they chanted in unison, lifting clawed hands in protest, eyes blazing with hunger.

Brianna planted her feet apart, gripped her weapon tight, and whispered:

"Come and get food."

With a thunderous, eerie grooooooowl, the Wraithfeeders charged.

She let out a scream and sprinted forward, spinning with her scythe. Her blade cut through air and flesh alike—slicing one wraith in half, another decapitated in a whirl of black mist and blood-like essence. Her body moved like wind and vengeance combined, each strike faster and more furious than the last.

Blood oozed into the air—or was part of it.

One final creature lunged at her. She leapt, spinning in midair and brought her blade down.

Slaaaash.

It split clean down the middle.

When the fight ended, she stood drenched in red, scythe dripping, breathing slow and deep.

Then—

Clap. Clap. Clap. Clap.

A mocking applause echoed behind her, followed by a slow, eerie laugh.

"Well done, well done," a cracked feminine voice echoed. "Looks like someone's been dancing with the Wraithfeeders—and dealt with them rather well."

Brianna turned sharply and flung her scythe toward the voice.

The blade spun like lightning, heading toward a floating figure in grey.

But the woman raised her palm.

The scythe froze midair, vertical, humming with tension.

With a gentle wave, it floated calmly into her grasp.

The old woman smiled—dark, wicked.

"Nice throw, my daughter. But next time… ask the wind for help."

"Mum," Brianna breathed, eyes narrowing. "When will you teach me to do that?"

"Not so soon. Why the rush, Bree? You that mad over not being loved back?"

"I'm not mad," Brianna said, folding her arms. "I just want vengeance… for being ignored like trash."

The old woman—her ghostly mother—hovered closer. Her hair floated like smoke, and the scythe pulsed with power in her hand.

"I warned you not to chase things never meant for you. Look where you are now—among the dead."

She smirked. "Still… I blame your heart. Not you."

"I'm fine," Brianna replied coldly.

"Fine, hmm? Then tell me, sweet girl… what will you do with this gift you now possess?" Her mother circled her slowly like a breeze before a storm.

Brianna turned to face her, her voice even.

"I want to haunt him. And have him for myself."

A pause. Then laughter—sharp, crazy, delighted.

"Well, well. What a determined ghost we have here. I love this new you. Your dark side is absolutely adorable."

She leaned in. "So cute, my daughter…"

But then—

Rwaaaaaaaarssshhhh!

The trees trembled as three towering goblins burst through the shadows. Twice Brianna's height, muscular, their green skin slick with rot. One held a rusted sword. Another an axe. The third—bow drawn, arrow glowing.

The goblins spotted them and roared, charging.

Brianna gasped, but her mother stepped ahead.

"I'll handle this."

She tapped the scythe's hilt against the ground.

THRUMMMM!

A wave of dark purple energy burst outward in a perfect semicircle—ripping the goblins apart, disintegrating them into ash.

Brianna gasped. "How did you—"

Her mother floated past, uninterested.

"Come on, Bree. We've got work to do."

"Okay…" Brianna whispered, eyes glowing.

---

Back in the world of the living…

Danny helped Richard into the house. The sun was dipping toward the horizon, painting everything in golden flame. Birds sang gently. The sky looked peaceful.

Danny walked him out to the balcony, letting him breathe it in.

"It's beautiful, right?" he said.

Richard didn't answer.

Danny turned—and froze.

Richard's gaze was fixed beyond the sun… at the distant edge of the sky.

A wave of dark clouds was gathering. Heavy. Fast. As if racing to swallow the light.

"Danny?" Richard murmured.

"Yeah bro? What's up?"

"It's almost night."

A long silence.

"…And I'm afraid."

---

To Be Continued...