Lady Entropic

Shh. Listen. Do you hear that? That’s the sound of death. She has a name, you know. Why is death a lady? Some people think of life when they think of women. The whole birth thing, you know. But death can be female as well, the way it sneaks up on you like a woman you never thought you’d fall for. If anything, I tend to think of life as male, full as it is of fights and struggles and all its little projects laying around half done. But death, she’s there when you’re lying on your back and either need a pair of loving arms to take you away or a scare to get you back on your feet. And who’s breath is sweeter? But she causes a lot of tears, and no one sheds more. It’s a hard job, but someone has to do it, and so I admire her.

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

And she’s a reptile, our sweet lady. A real Komodo dragon. She’s cold, but her breath is hot, and in her spit are little reminders of every corpse she’s kissed. And don’t forget the way she moves. She can lay still in the sun so long you forget she’s there, or she might plod along so slow you think you have all the time in the world. But when she decides she wants you, you're hers.

To my knowledge, only the Healer has ever spurned her, robbing her of children and consorts by the species. But look at him now, and the thing that’s growing out of him. If you ever come across the symbol of the grave tree, be cautious. I can’t tell for sure on which side of the line its wearers fall. I think that’s why she hates him, our sweet lady that is. He sent trillions to live as kings and queens in heaven, which surprisingly she supported. But what he inspired them to do, and what his people laid the foundation for IT to be able to do, has even our sweet lady afraid. And you should care about this, because if she’s not safe, then no one is.