Fickle Finger of Fate

“The line between savior and monster is drawn in river sand.”

— Gayus Mariuous,

Seventh Prophet of the First Order

***

I heard the skittering sound of tiny feet nearby.

I didn’t care. Why did I ever care?

I managed to turn onto my back and stared up into the swirling sky.

This was as fine a place to die as any. Why was I so worried before?

Jack. The voice was faint. A distant memory. A forgotten dream.

And then, I saw her face. My beautiful daughter. I heard her laughter. Visions swirled around me. I was younger, the world vibrant. My wife, Leah, was with her sister for the day, and I had Sarah, our daughter. My wonderful Sarah.

We were playing, and she was laughing so hard she could barely breathe. She had such a beautiful, full laugh, as if her whole body couldn’t contain the joy.

I got a call. A friend, a fellow private eye. He was in a bind and needed a favor—nothing dangerous, just a quick errand. A file needed picking up from the precinct, and he was stuck on the wrong side of town, trapped in rush hour. I was closer, so I agreed to swing by. It was a routine job, hardly worth mentioning. I brought Sarah along, thinking nothing of it.

We were at the precinct, waiting for the clerk to dig up the file. But something was off. Before I could put my finger on it, the world exploded around me. I still tasted the gas that filled the place, still heard the screams, still felt the crushing weight of concrete and metal. Shadefire burned hot—a coal-like stone that crackled with dark energy. It was the backbone of every forge and hearth, the fuel that kept winter at bay. But it was also the junkie’s drug of choice and the home alchemist’s perfect ingredient for a bomb. A Shadefire explosion could level a building faster than you could scream.

Sarah’s face flashed in my mind, a memory that wouldn’t let go. Leah was crying now, and I couldn’t stop her. She left me after that—vanished without a trace. Last I heard, she was somewhere near Angel City. I never went back to our house. It stood there, empty, like me. When the divorce papers arrived, I didn’t fight. Haven’t seen or heard from her since.

Sarah’s smile was vivid now, calling to me. I reached out, feeling her hands. Everything was a blur. I tried to clear the tears from my eyes to see her.

But it wasn’t Sarah. It was someone else—her face calm, almost serene. She pulled me from the sand, her hands steady, grounding me in the chaos. I coughed as she offered me water, letting it trickle from her cupped hands. My body was distant, like it wasn’t mine. Every movement took more effort than I had to give.

She fed me something bitter, something that turned my stomach. I chewed with whatever strength I could muster, the taste of raw sinew and fat thick on my tongue. It was foul, but it pulled me back, anchoring me to the world. Slowly, the haze lifted. The earth grew solid beneath me, the ground no longer shifting like a dream. I heard Frank’s voice, distant but insistent, calling me back.

Jack! Damn you! Wake up!

“I’m okay,” I croaked.

Gods, Jack. I thought I lost you.

“Can’t get rid of me that easy, Frank.”

I choked down another bite from the stranger’s hand, the taste turning my stomach. She sat beside me on the ground, her dress flowing like a flower in the desert, a beacon from another world. She looked like a photo from a different reality, cut out and placed here, glowing with her own ethereal light.

“Who are you?” I managed.

“Shhh,” she said, “There’ll be enough time for questions once you’ve eaten.” She fed me more. It was bits of a dead imp. I almost vomited but managed to keep it down. I drank deep blue water from a bottle she handed me.

Slowly, I regained my senses enough to see her more clearly.

“You’re an Eternal,” I said, more a statement than a question.

She smiled. “Yes.”

“And you saved me.”

“Two for two, Jack Callaghan.”

“Why?”

“Someone’s got their thumb on the scale, tipping it the wrong way. I’m here to provide some... balance.”

“Who are you?”

“Who is anyone? I’m me. You’re you. I’ve been called many things. Some kind, some terrible. But is a thing its name, or is it more? I was someone once. Long ago, before I took up this office.”

“Office?”

“The Eternals, we aren’t born this way. Each of us was once mortal, like you... used to be. And one day, we’ll pass on, handing the hat to another.”

“Then, what’s your ‘hat’?”

“Ah, an intelligent question at last. I weave the threads of fate—the journey from past through present to future. The spinner, the measurer, and the blade that cuts the thread.” With each word, her face shifted—from a young woman to a middle-aged mother, to an elderly, wrinkled form, then back to her youthful self.

“But why help me?”

“Because, Jack, I have my own way of balancing the scales. And right now, you’re part of that balance.”

I saw the ages in her eyes, the burden of endless cycles of reality.

“It’s not yet your time, young Jack Callaghan. Though, some forces seem to disagree. It wasn’t your time at the dock that fateful night. It’s not your time now. That is my domain.”

“I thought Death decided these things,” I said.

She chuckled, a sound like chiming bells.

“Death and I work closely, but no. He shepherds souls that have shed their mortal coils. But when that form is shucked, that is by my design. Except with you. Someone circumvented me that night and, how would you say it, ‘offed’ you? Without my approval or plan. That’s why I allowed Death to bring you back. There’s a cosmic balance at play. An Eternal cannot interfere without granting another the automatic permission to do the same. How we use our permissions is up to us, but we usually cannot infringe upon another’s domain. Usually. I can’t tell you more without surpassing my permissions. Only that you’re on the right path. And you must stay true to your course. You’re only at the beginning, young Jack Callaghan. There’s a long way for you on this path yet. Now eat. You need to regain your strength.”

I took another bite and felt the energy of the imp moving through me. As I ate more, something stirred inside me, a strange tingle through my hands and fingers. My pallid blue skin darkened ever so slightly, the energy soaking into me, a warmth within.

“Why do you keep calling me young?” I asked. But when I looked up, she was gone. Frank and I were alone.

Vision stuttered, and the world splintered in a smear of red and static. I clenched my teeth, head splitting, while the System warning flared and vanished. It was shorter this time—blink-and-you’d-miss-it—but the pain lingered, hot and throbbing. The System was slowly failing, every jagged piece tearing through my brain.

System Integrity: 39%

Eternals, Frank said. Never come straight out and say anything. ‘Don’t trust Tom, he’s stealing your fortune,’ or ‘the secret is over there under that book.’ They always want you to figure it out for yourself.

“You have a history with Eternals, Frank?” I asked.

Oh, another tale for another time. Let’s survive this one first, shall we?

“Frank, do you feel that?” I asked, feeling the imp’s blood snake its way through my veins, warm and oily.

There was a long pause before Frank spoke again.

Indeed, Jack, you feel different. Less... dead. Not quite alive. But certainly, almost definitely less dead. And yet, more... something else.

I watched as a bit of decaying skin on my arm began to cling and knit itself back together. But it was no longer my own. The patch was now in the shade of the black fire imp, leaving the rest of me still in my pale hue.

I finished the imp and strength seeped back into my limbs. Slowly, I rose, my body still aching but no longer on the brink of collapse. I looked around, hoping for another imp, but none were to be found. The Eternal likely frightened most things away.

We pressed on, and soon enough, we stumbled upon a small deposit of Nightstone, its obsidian sheen stark against the crimson soil. The sight of it sent a jolt of relief through me. With Frank’s help, I dug into the ground; the earth giving way to reveal a sizable chunk of the precious mineral.

Once we’d gathered all we could, we retraced our steps with care and deliberation. The journey back blurred in a haze of exhaustion. Miraculously, the rift remained open, a shimmering beacon of salvation. We stepped through, and the familiar chill of the docks enveloped us.

The cold air hit me harder than before, especially where the imp’s flesh now melded with mine. It was strange, feeling the bite of the cold so acutely.

“That’s odd. I can actually feel the breeze where the imp’s flesh has replaced mine. Fire imps hate the cold, don’t they?” I mused, more to myself than to Frank.

Indeed.

A spark of hope ignited within me. This would require some experimenting, but perhaps there was a way back from undeath. Maybe, just maybe, there was a chance.

We stepped out of the rift, and there was Sarge, waiting patiently like he had been standing guard the whole time. His tail wagged as soon as he spotted us.

“Now that’s a good boy,” I said, kneeling down to give him a few well-earned pets. His fur was warm, solid, a grounding presence after everything. “Alright, a deal’s a deal.”

I started walking back to the car, Sarge falling into step beside me, his nails clicking against the pavement. “Really, Sarge, how’d you get all the way out here? You expanding your turf?”

He barked, short and sharp, almost like he was agreeing with me.

“At least one of us is doing well for himself.”

You realize he’s just a dog, right? Frank grumbled in my head.

“And you’re just a jacket,” I shot back.

Frank seething in his own little corner of his perpetual-possession state, but he stayed quiet. I wasn’t in the mood.

I ran a Status Check and skimmed the changes.

SYSTEM STATUS: UNCERTAIN (CRITICAL ERRORS DETECTED)

User: Jack Callaghan Designation: Hunter-Class Hybrid (Undead / Enhanced) Revenant-Class. Rank 1 ( Current Revenant Status: Resistive.)

CORE VITALS

Vitality:

1. Current Status: 98% — Vitality stabilized by Infernum infusion.
2. Note: Imp blood detected. Enhanced regenerative properties accelerating tissue recovery. Old injuries partially healed. Necrotic tissue partially revitalized at molecular level.

Resilience: Unknown (Insufficient data for comprehensive analysis.)

1. Observation: Cellular structure reinforced by unidentified demonic energy. Increased durability noted.

Fatigue: Unknown (Biological energy consumption negligible. Mechanical supports and Infernum energy compensating for motor function.)

HUMANITY: CRITICAL

1. Current Level: 9.5%

And some information had filled in under the Abilities section.

Revenant Class – Abilities

Rage (Active – Unstable)

1. Trigger: Adrenaline surge, life-threatening situations.
2. Effect: Temporarily boosts strength and reflexes by +50% , but stamina after.
3. Upgrade Path: Extend power through Consume.

Consume (Active – Experimental)

1. Trigger: Absorb Infernal energy or consume entities.
2. Effect: Regenerates health (up to 100% max Vitality per use) and temporarily gains traits from the devoured entity .
3. Warning: Consuming your own kind may cause unforeseen complications.
4. Side Effect: Unstable DNA absorption may lead to permanent changes.

Fearless (Passive – Stable)

1. Effect: 90% reduced chance of experiencing fear.
2. Side Effect: Reduced empathy.

Painless (Passive – Stable)

1. Effect: Reduces pain reception by 80% .
2. Side Effect: All sensations are dimmed (touch, taste, pleasure, and pain alike).

Revenant Instinct — Locked

1. Side Effect: If you can see them, they can see you.
2. Unlock Condition: ???

The System had more to chew on this time. Every scrap of new data fed into its relentless calculations, grinding through the mess of biological and aetheric information, refining my status with the cold precision of a machine that never slept. Still, it was having trouble figuring me out. I didn't blame it.

Strange , I thought. Scars fading, the ache of undeath easing. I regained a flicker of Humanity—half a percent. Imp blood. Of all things.

We made it back to the car. I rummaged through the glove box—papers, an old handkerchief, a crumpled scorecard from Yahtzee—until I found what I was looking for: a small, half-forgotten bag of dried jerky. No use to me anymore, but Sarge... he would appreciate it.

His mouth was already watering by the time I tossed him a large piece. He gobbled it down in seconds, then sat there, staring at me expectantly.

“C’mon, Sarge. You’re killing me here. I gotta save some for later, alright? Can’t give it all away.”

He kept staring. That wide-eyed, relentless look only a dog could pull off.

I stared back.

He stared back.

“Alright, fine. You win.” I tossed him the last chunk of jerky. He swallowed it in one bite, then trotted over and snuggled up against my arm, satisfied.

“You wanna ride with us, or you doing your own thing?” I asked, scratching behind his ears. He barked once, spun in place like he was chasing his tail, then suddenly lost interest and sauntered off down the street, tail wagging.

“On your own, huh? I can appreciate that.”

I watched him for a second, then turned my thoughts to Frank.

“I’m feeling better than I have any right to,” I said aloud.

I noticed, he said.

“I need to do something.”

I headed toward the water’s edge, drawn by the need to shake off the filth that clung to me—not just the physical grime, but the stench of the rift, the corruption lingering in my bones. The moon cast a silvery sheen over the ocean, its rhythmic waves beckoning like a dark invitation. I could still feel the rift’s presence, heavy in the air, seeping into my skin. The only thing I could think to do was drown it out.

Fully clothed, I waded into the ocean.

The cold hit me like an overdue bill—sudden, unpleasant, and completely indifferent to my personal circumstances. Saltwater bit at the gashes and sliced through my deadened nerves, sharp and unforgiving. But it was grounding—better than letting the otherworld’s residue sink any deeper into me.

I stood in the surf, the waves crashing around me, and for a moment, I felt almost human again… almost.

The night was still and silent, the stars above a stark contrast to the chaos we’d endured.

It was going to be a long night, I thought.

Isn’t it already? Frank asked.

But now, with the Nightstone secured and a direction in mind, things looked a touch less bleak.

“We need a demonologist,” I said, the words carrying out over the dark, restless sea.