It was a night like all the million others that came before; the city was silent as usual due to the time. Time. Time is a strange concept when all of it belongs to a mission you never chose.
I often wandered. Cities, Forests, Seas. In between missions, it helped to distract myself. Not because I need to. I do not tire. I do not think. And I have no true desire. But I've found that watching them… softens the transitions.
I like the cities best. Just like humans, cities breathe in patterns.
Cars stutter at red lights and rejoice in green. Lovers hold hands too tightly and hold each other too lightly. Strangers glance over their shoulders and are suspicious of each other, yet are eager for something new. Even the buildings seem unsure of themselves — always changing, blinking, but never leaving. Never dying.
Patterns; they represent how, even in the midst of chaos, or in the passage of time, nature has its flow, and it will prevail.
Tonight, the city tasted dimmer than usual. Not darker — no, it was something else. This was more like… hesitation. Like the hours had gotten stuck somewhere behind the moon. Maybe I was just hesitant since it's been a while since the last mission.
That's when the summons came. I never got used to the feeling, even after thousands of years. Not a voice to be heard, not an image to be seen, but a pressure to be felt. A familiar weight in my chest reminds me why I need this.
A name and a place that I simply know now.
Male. Five years, two months. Threshold approaching.
I left the rooftop. I left the city. I left the distraction. Since now I am just another step in the pattern. There are rules. Unseen, but unyielding. I do not wait to discover what would happen if I did defy them.
I arrive in that dimly lit hospital room, just like the thousands I've seen before. And there it is.
There is the rhythm. The pattern. There is no kindness in it. No cruelty. Only… continuation. I do not create it. I do not guide it. I am simply the reminder. The end that comes after all the other sounds have stopped.
Machines lined the wall, humming softly, blinking like tired eyes. They always try to mimic life. They never succeed.
The boy was small. Smaller than I thought he'd be. Even from the corner, I could see the shape of his bones under the blanket. Every breath seemed to ask permission before it moved through him.
I had been sent to watch. Not to take — not yet. He was nearing the end, but not yet, when it is this close, thresholds tremble. My presence calms it. That's all I am meant to do, extend it until it reaches its end.
But I wasn't alone in that room, even though most die alone, I knew the mother would be there. They often are. Usually sleeping. Usually unaware. But always ever so faithful that tomorrow will be better.
"Who…"
She looked straight at me. She... was awake.
No recoil. No blink. Simple acknowledgement. Like she'd remembered me from somewhere, an old friend. Like she'd always expected me.
"Who the hell are you?"
I thought, at first, it was a mistake. Some human minds are adrift in grief. Some trick of cortisol and sleep deprivation. But then she moved. Spoke. Defended.
Her eyes didn't plead. They didn't beg. They warned. There was no fear in her that I could name. Only defiance, drawn tight around her bones like armour she hadn't meant to wear.
It was... fascinating.
I didn't mean to speak. I usually don't. But something about the pause in her voice made space for mine. And something about her gaze — locked and sharp — made the silence feel... wrong.
"You're awake."
She saw me. Fully. Cleanly. And not only that… she held. No one holds.
I had never been seen this clearly before.
"You see me clearly."
They cry. They collapse. They turn away. Rarely are the times they find the strength to beg.
She did none of those things. She assessed. Measured. Declared something quietly, through the way she stared, the way she stood, like she could stop the world from moving if she refused hard enough.
"Interesting."
I felt something shift. It wasn't fear. Not surprise. Just… hesitation. A foreign pause where none should exist. There was no sharpness to it. No spike of feeling. Just a… delay. A second of not acting, where action had always been automatic. Like the silence after a note is played too long.
"You shouldn't be here." She announced as if that was the most simple fact of truth, as if I was breaking the most obvious rule there is. But she was trembling... she knew. She knew who, or what, I was. She knew why I was there. Yet none of that mattered, not to her.
The boy's breathing fluttered. Then steadied. His little fingers twitched near the edge of the blanket. Still tethered. He would still be mine, eventually. But not today. Not today. I would see him again, and maybe her. And when that time comes, it won't matter the stance, the fight or the words spoken.
I said nothing more to her; I shouldn't have said anything to begin with. I knew I had lingered too long. Not by time. But by instinct.
I left. Not through the door. Not into the hallway. I simply ceased to be there, like I have done so many other times. This time not to the cities, not to the rooftops, not to the forests or seas, nor deserts. But to the outside of the window of the room I was in moments ago.
Far enough not to be seen, I did something I have never done before.
I stayed.