Revenant (Story)

Shout-out to past Jay for these corny illustrations and skinny Root

### Date written

2017 is the earliest date I can find for this but might be earlier, I'm not certain

### Universe

Canon? (As in, I haven't read this in a while so I don't know how much of it is still accurate)

## Features

### Characters

* Malice
* Root

### **revenant**

/ˈrɛv(ə)nənt/

*noun*

* a person who has returned, especially supposedly from the dead.

## **Summary**

For the 20 years that he has lived as a Reaper, Malice has never had a single memory of his family or his origins. Upon finding out that his mother might still be alive, Malice rushes back to his hometown to reunite with her once more. But after 20 years, a lot has changed, and things are far different from how Malice remembers them.

## **Revenant**

Thick white snow fell down in the Rem Forest, the evergreen trees gleamed as their strong dark green branches were adorned with a freezing coat of white frost, reflecting the brightness of the pale icy ground. Not an inch of grass could be seen, covered by the gentle snowflakes that twinkled as they twirled in their descend.
Lost in the cold mist of this mute winter wonderland, a dark phantom-like figure could be seen, hanging on a branch that seemed indifferent to its apparent weight. The being's dark body contrasted with the whiteness that surrounded it, wearing what appeared to be a large black hooded coat while carrying a long double-bladed scythe, large and sharp even if it had seen some wear from the years of use by its owner.

The figure was that of a young Reaper, his nimble body would suggest that he was only a teen, a young adult if one were to be generous, but few were the ones knew that he had been the age of eighteen for the past two decades, ever since he first lost his life.

He had named himself Malice, as an attempt to leave behind his real name to become a forgotten memory of his past life, but deep down he held onto it. It was the only thing he remembered, and the only thing he had ever truly considered his own.

It was humble and simple, maybe too cutesy for his tastes, but aside the Reaper role which he had been assigned in death, *"Miles"* was the only name that he had ever known to even offer the slightest clue of who he used to be, or where he had come from. But who was that? He didn't remember.

During Autumn, Spring and Summer, Malice was open and talkative with a loud happy-go-lucky personality. Of course, that most would find his bold and edgy behaviour to be obnoxious and unpleasant to be around, and he did take pleasure in being a trickster and a trouble maker to those who would cross his path, but their thoughts never really bothered him. Whether they'd be dead or alive, he wanted to make sure his terrible jokes and mockery would make it to those poor unfortunate souls' Afterlives.

However, his whole being suffered a shift in personality as soon as Winter arrived with it's freezing cold air when he could no longer speak with his now hibernating reptile friends, nor find any joy in any of the same things he previously enjoyed doing. This strange depression would come every Winter and with this, he would grow quiet and recoiled as loneliness took over his being.

Despite how warm and heavy his outfit was, the hooded boy was still visibly shivering from the harsh cold that nearly froze the icy blood in his reptilian veins.

Being a Reaper, the overwhelming feeling of loneliness had never been foreign to him. Immortality had a heavy price, and with the amount of death he had seen, Malice refused to allow himself to suffer any kind of loss of his own, which meant creating a distance between him and whoever attempted to approach him to create any more meaningful relationship or friendship. But he just felt... So cold... So alone...

He just longed to sleep somewhere comforting, to just lie down, away from the snowy breeze, and wake up when the warmth of the spring sunshine would caress his face to awaken him from his long slumber. That was all he wanted, warmth and comfort, and then, he would gladly do his Reaper duties, simply collecting those lost souls that would occasionally get lost in the Limbo, crying out pathetically as he sent them to the Afterlife.

But despite all this, Malice could never sleep, as much as he wanted to, he could not just hibernate until it was spring. He couldn't even nap for a single night without the nightmares and night terrors taking over when the hateful whispers and voices of the souls he had tormented to vent out his own personal rage and frustrations would echo in his mind, paralyzing him, and keeping him from waking up in cold sweats and a lump in his throat.

Some nights he wouldn’t even sleep, just to spite them, not as if he needed it anyway, Reapers got their life force from the souls they sent away, food and sleep were only simple trivial pleasures. And he had that job to do, that if left unattended for too long, would begin to affect his mind, corrupting him with feelings of insanity and pain, changing his body to become more monstrous until, in the end, he'd become an unrecognizable beast that would want to kill anything in its path just to get the poor souls' force to take his eternal pain away.

Purposely killing anyone before their time was a big no-no for Reapers, especially for those of such low status as Malice himself. But even a few weeks without sending out a single soul would get him to feel the almost beastly urge to take a life, any life, just for their essence to stabilize his being, only to immediately fill himself with regret, for being a murderer as the other Reapers would despise him even more for staining the name of everything they stood for.

Why had he even accepted to do this cursed job in the first place?

That very same question came back floating to his mind every now and then, in those empty days when he lacked proper distractions, things to do or the voice of friendly companionship to drown the darker thoughts of his mind, the thought of it filled him with pain.

It pained him in his chest as if it was a strange kind of heartache that made him feel like there was something that was missing in his being, his memories, his home, his family, the memory of how he had died for the first time and became a Reaper. Why could he not remember why he had accepted such a horrible fate? Was a life of immortality and dealing with the dead really that much of a big deal for his past self that he wanted to leave everything else behind? What was going on his mind back then that made such a sacrifice necessary?!

Malice had been dead for 20 years now, and out of the 100 or more years that a Reaper had to live in duty, unable neither to rest nor die, he never knew why he did it in the first place. Every single day took longer than a year to pass and yet, as much as these questions haunted him, he just didn’t have any of the answers and this frustrated him deeply.

In the pale winter cold, his tears almost appeared to form stalactites under his jaw as they fell down his freezing cheeks, but his eyes felt heavy and he knew as he cried quietly and alone, that no one would be around to recognize him and ask where the great and lovable Malice’s wide grin was. He was neither weeping nor sobbing, he was simply staring down while the tears were falling down his face, and he preferred it this way, quiet and with a low-profile. Malice hated crying, the Smiling Reaper dreaded the idea of being caught in such a moment of weakness, so as long as he could let it out like this, all alone without anyone to see, his pride would be unharmed and he would be satisfied.

Tired of the sad angst movie that he played in his own mind while sitting there, Malice simply let out a sigh and rubbed his eyes, stinging from how wet they had been. He adjusted the heavy dark hood and flew off the branch of the old tree to start yet another one of his daily rounds in search of lost spirits in the forest as the snowflakes collected in his dark hood and gloves. But his dark figure stared right ahead, not bothering to look around for the souls he needed to find because deep down in his subconscious, he knew there weren't any that day, he was looking for someone else. He was trying to sense the presence of yet another Reaper like himself.

He hadn't realized this at first, but he cursed to himself as he quickly noticed that he was searching for his original Guardian, Root.

It had been years ever since he had properly spoken to that old guy. Some tree monster Reaper, the many millennia-old tree hugger, obsessed with nature, animals and rules. He and Malice were in what could simply be described as "bad terms", albeit one-sided as Root just wouldn't even bother dignifying Malice's fit with an answer. Typical.

At some point in the past, Malice would have considered him a friend, even a fatherly figure, but not anymore. Ever since he rebelled and had rejected every contact with his guardian Root, who knew nothing but to throw rules everywhere and scold him constantly, Malice grew to despise even the simple concept of being nice to those miserable souls like he was "meant" to.

Who cared if they were living beings with their own life at some point? As a Reaper, he was supposed to find the souls, open the door to the Afterlife, send them in, and, as simple as that, the job would be done! Whatever happened in the Afterlife was none of his business and whoever was in charge of that place should be far more important than him.

But *nooo*! According to Root, Malice should always stand in a respectful position, always start with the same lame monologue informing them about where they were, and always answer whatever questions the deceased would want to ask before leaving that world. Newsflash guys, you're dead! What else was there to explain?! Malice seemed to get a look of annoyance under his dark hood, of course, that HIS questions would never get answered, and unless they were related to the job, the deceased were always the top priority and the Reapers were but a tool to help balance the Drimare circle of life.

In his inner rant, Malice kept searching, feeling the being's strong presence nearby. In the snow, Malice's hovering made him similar to a lost phantom with a dark cloak, but he stopped as soon as he spotted a familiar pair of tall horns, like a mixture of long tree branches and deer antlers on the side of the creature's head.

Malice quietly approached to find the large tree Drimare, about five meters tall with a tree-like body made of wood, partially covered in what seemed to be moss, with long arms and claws and an intimidating gaze in its lime coloured eyes. Were he to stand perfectly still, he would blend perfectly with the tall forest trees that surrounded them.

The being seemed to be watching over some forest animals that fled as soon as the boy approached, but he did not react, just slowly turning his head to him, the sound of cracking wood followed his every movement as he spoke in a deep voice.- *Hello Miles. It has been a while.* - He said as his voice sounded as cold as ever, but with a hint of understanding that often came across as patronizing - *You don't visit often. What is it that you need?*
The boy did not react to this, remembering the first days that this being had taught him the basics of everything there was to know about the duties of a Reaper when Malice feared him the most.

As much as he found Root to be terribly annoying and a nagging nuisance, part of him still felt intimidated by the ancient Reaper's gaze, terrified even. That old fear crawled on his back as he shivered in the cold, what DID he need?

Malice looked down in complete silence raising his head as if to speak, but Root was quick to dismiss this - *Not even a snarky remark... It must be quite serious.*

Malice trembled with his voice as he couldn't tell if the creature was attempting to tell a joke or if he was being his usual serious self. It didn't help him feel any less uneasy with himself either.

- *Hey... Root... Hi... I just... I need your help with something.* - Malice spoke trying to assert himself, but he wasn't being too successful.

- *Is that so? That look in your eyes... After all these years, your heart is still so easy to read...* - Root got back to tending to the small critters that had timidly returned once they felt safe - *How can I be of assistance to you?*

Malice gulped when he said this, he hated how scared he was of him. Every time Root laid his eyes on his small self, Malice felt like an open book, just there for Root to read every single page and know every single one of his deepest secrets, every single thought that went on the inside his little head. Malice often found himself curling on his own body when near him as if the futile gesture of covering his own chest was of any help with hiding his heart and soul from a First Reaper.

- *...Why am I a Reaper...?* - He timidly asked, a lot more quiet than he had expected of himself, and he clenched his fists as if to give himself the strength he needed. Root seemed to notice this, but he remained distant.

- *I have multiple answers for that question, for there are many reasons, Miles. Perhaps you may need to specify which aspect is of your interest?*

- *I just... I can't remember why I became a Reaper...!* - He paused, but noticing that Root was still listening, he nervously continued - *I-I feel like I knew at some point, but I don't... Why did I make that choice...? You always said that I made the choice to become a Reaper, but I really don't know why I did so! I don't think I'd choose this life unless I had SOME reason behind it!*

Root simply listened, it wasn't the first time that they had this conversation, and if he dismissed him again, he feared that it would not be the last one either - *Is this about your past life?*

Malice quickly nodded, hopeful but reluctant, and Root sighed, his lime-coloured eyes simply focusing on the small boy, as if intimidating him into submission to drop the subject - *We have discussed this issue before. Have we not? Your memories were taken away from you for a reason. To keep you emotionally stable enough to do your job as a Reaper.*

Malice stared down in defeat but shook his head - *Right but... I want to know why I chose this life...! What my death wish was or whatever! -* He looked up at him defiantly, hovering up so they'd be at the same eye level *- I'm not stupid, I know I was way too young to die! But I need to know that I'm here for a reason...! That what I'm doing is worthwhile...! A... Purpose, I guess...?*

Root was not moved by this, the boy was still too emotional, Root had grown to regret turning someone so young into a Reaper, as much as he saw potential in him, it was too late to send him back, he felt his pain and feared it would only make it worse for him - *I do not think that you will be ready to know the truth, Miles. Not so soon. Seeking answers regarding your hometown and relatives will only prove to be a distraction from your duties and I do not wish for you to fall into corruption.*

Malice's eyes seemed to lighten up with this, Root had never mentioned anything about *relatives* before - *Wait... Hometown? Relatives...? MY relatives...? Who are they...?! Are they alrig-*

- *Attachment to mortals is something that you as a young Reaper need to avoid.* - Root quickly interrupted him - *The pain of loss prevents you from focusing.* - His voice was stern like a concerned parent.

- *But it's MY life and MY relatives...! I have the right to know...!* *I would never leave them behind! ...whoever they are..*. - Malice spoke desperately but was silenced by Root's glare as he turned towards him, causing him to flinch back.

- *You have a job to do, Miles. I only want what is best for you, do you not understand? This is for your own good. Do you know how many Reapers have had to be banished to Tartarus because of being overtaken by grief? Because of what happens when they DO NOT do their job?*

- *B-But still, I-I know, I just...! -* Malice froze, he had seen and heard stories of those Reapers, corrupted and monster-like, losing all sense of self, become nothing but a primal shell of their former selves with no hope of coming back to their senses. Of course, he didn't want this for himself, but that didn't mean that he had to be deprived of knowing who he was*.*

- *When the time comes, I'll return your memories. Until then, please refrain from bringing up this subject. Either that or you will prove to me that you can deal with such situations and grief with the respective maturity and responsibility upon yourself.*

Malice looked at the side, clenching his teeth, unsure of whether he felt anxious or just angry - *No... NO! That's not fair! How are you so sure that I'll just let myself get corrupted like that?! I know how to take care of myself! I'm not a dumb kid anymore!*

- *I've seen it happen far too often.* - Root sighed as he tried to calm himself and not lash out at him, he was so young, of course, he wouldn't want to understand - *It's best for you to be safe.*

Malice just remained quiet, breathing heavily while staring at his own cold shivering hands, trying to reach further and further for the earliest memory he could think of, but his past felt faded and blurry, scenarios, words and figures were all just masked by a thick fog, feeling as if they were part of a long-forgotten dream. Nothing.

Malice just groaned in frustration and let himself slowly fall onto the snow, wishing for the ice to freeze every part of his being, he immediately regretted this overdramatic decision once the snow touched his body, but his pride prevented him from doing something that embarrassing after such a heated exchange.

Root pretended not to notice, his expression softening a bit - *I have been expecting for this day to arrive for a while now.* - Root continued - *Miles. Are you actually ready to confront and live with your past life? Or are you just plagued by your curiosity and winter loneliness?*

Malice quickly sat up with this - *N-No! No I... I just want to know...!* - He seemed to trip on his words as he saw the opening into Root's willingness to help - *I have to have something to remind me that I used to be someone! A reason for me to be here! If I'm just some kid, why did I become a Reaper?! Why can't I know that?*! - He spoke desperately and Root just sighed before looking ahead.

- *Deep in your heart, you had a good reason to choose this life, but unfortunately, your death wish could not have been fulfilled, so I took away your memories so that your grief wouldn't consume you. As time goes on, you learn to separate yourself from old emotional hurt. Death no longer brings you pain, your family is simply a memory, and the life you left behind becomes just part of the past.* - He spoke as Malice listened attentively - *But back in beginning, when you were a young Reaper, you could not bear the pain of remembering your life, mourning much more than any others I had seen... No Reaper should be turned so young...*

- *...Okay I get it, I'm a mistake, but why...? W-What was my death wish...?*

- *Miles, you would just cry to no end and you grew more and more unstable as time went by.* - Root spoke, ignoring the question regarding the wish - *It's a natural reaction really, but you were unable to do your duties and I feared for your safety. It was destroying you.*

Root stared down at the small boy, who seemed so innocent and clueless in his eyes, uninterested in taking the situation as seriously as he did - *As I said, I took your memories away so you wouldn’t corrupt yourself and turn into a beast. There is no cure for a Reaper’s corruption, and I would hate to have to banish you to Tartarus along with the other Fallen.* - He sighed - *I do admit. I had expected you to be stronger, but young souls such as yourself should never have to be burdened with this life... It was my mistake to allow you to become like this.* - Malice listened attentively, only feeling self-conscious of himself as Root continued - *Miles... What happened? Why did you choose now of all times? - His coldness was seemingly gone, his tone replaced with one of pity and regret.*

- *Huh...? Nothing... Nothing happened. It's just... Okay, this is stupid, but It’s just close to being my twenty-year anniversary of being dead! Twenty years... Ha... That's longer than the time I spent being alive! How many are you hitting now, old man? One or two millennia? More? You tree folk have a longer life span anyway, so it's not like you'd even notice.* - He spoke as if bitter about this fact, but Root just glared sternly and Malice lowered his head in compliance - *...I feel... I feel as if I knew why I’m here... That I could figure out my purpose... And then I could finally just stop freaking out so much about this, you know? Did I even have any meaning before I died...? To anyone?*

Root stared at him with a cold gaze, his long claws forming a bright yellow orb in them that hovered over his wooden claws, muffled yet familiar echoing voices were sounding from it. Familiar... Malice seemed curious as he stared at it, he felt almost as if he was drawn to it.

- *This orb contains your memories.* - Root spoke sternly - *All souls, young and old, rich and poor, good and evil, they all have a meaning. What I need you to understand is that, if you wish to continue to exist as yourself, you need to realize that your job now is much more important than mourning and focusing on the life you used to live.*

- *Right. I know. I must have no personal life of my own, or aspirations, and I must become an unfeeling corpse! Or I can grow up to become this ancient tree guy...*

- *I hope you can understand...*  - Root ignored his remark as Malice simply focused on the voices coming from the orb, as if trying to understand what they were saying - *I can return your memories if you truly feel ready. However, if you feel your mind has not yet matured, I would not recommend it. You will not like what you see... I can and will take them back if I find it to be necessary for your survival. I expect you to make the right choice so we do not need to have this conversation again.*

*- I think that's enough exposition...* - The boy took a deep breath, a strange new feeling came about this whole thing, first, he felt curiosity and sadness, yet an intense eagerness to know the truth, but now, he felt... fear....? He felt afraid of what was possibly harming him so much in the past. What had made him sob uncontrollably for so long, to the point that Root had to take his memory away so he'd do his job? What made it so that Root found the need to threaten him with wiping his memories again if he were to freak out about what he saw?

Surely there was no point in going back now, Root agreeing to help him like this truly was an especially rare occasion, and if the stars had aligned for that specific moment, then Malice did not want to risk losing his Guardian's good side.

- *...I'm... I'm ready. Give me back my memories.*

He felt himself hovering against his own will and knew it was Root's doing, despite knowing how much Malice hated his nature magic, Root seemed indifferent to this, he knew what was best. But as he approached with the orb that contained his memories, Malice did not complain, instead, just closing his eyes shut as if expecting it to physically hurt.

- *Are you nervous?* - Root asked - *I can feel you shivering like a cane in the wind. Your heart is pounding.*

- *Stop that... Of course, I'm nervous...*

- *You're afraid... Perhaps you're not as ready as you think you are?*

- *No! I'm ready! Just get it over with!*

- *Are you certain?*

- *Y-Yes!*

- *...Very well. Just think of it as... a visit to the doctor...*

Malice didn't open his eyes once and winced when he felt everything returning to him so quickly, his head felt like it was burning. When his memories were first taken, he vaguely recalled passing out, so this should not be too different, and before he could tell what was happening to himself, he fell unconscious.
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