Rowena

“What a coincidence,” I said too quietly, giving Death my best smirk with my arms crossed, “I was just off to pay my debt.”

The garden went dead silent, as if the very air was awaiting Death’s permission to move. Catlike, she canted her head to the side, eyes glinting. Her raven hair undulated despite the lack of wind and her fingers sharpened into talons.

“Oh?” Death asked, almost amused, “I thought you were intent on becoming the new mistress of this plane,” she said, echoing my thoughts from seconds ago. Seconds that may as well have been years.

Fuck, I cursed inwardly. Yes I wanted to steal Death’s plane from her, but not before paying my debt and getting rid of her Marks.

Lera still knelt before her, and a quick glance told me that Lorian was bowing too. Neither of them so much as flinched as Death stood, descending the steps toward me. Her dress of shadow and mist trailed regally behind her, and her posture was straight as an arrow. I stood taller myself, lifting my chin. Two angels and a Goddess were a tall order, but it looked like she wasn’t going to give me a choice. She wasn’t going to let me walk away from this.

“Well you destroyed my other side’s dreams, so I thought I’d make some of my own,” I countered, not yielding an inch. The corner of Death’s mouth lifted a fraction as she descended the last few stairs in leisurely steps.

“Your mortal side wants to see her love again, and your immortal side wants power,” Death said in a bored tone as she reached me at last, “How unoriginal. Seems like neither of you will get what you want. It's a sad story really.”

She seemed taller now. Every bit as tall as her angels. Everything seemed to center on her, and I felt her power. If the Chosen’s had been a spark, then hers was an inferno. A fire mountain spewing hellbroth. Even standing near her was difficult as it hit me harder and harder. And yet the plane was still so quiet.

I refused to let fear overtake me.

Besides, I wasn’t helpless. A Chosen was supposed to be akin to a God on the material plane. I had defeated the God of Knowing’s simpering servant easily. I still felt that endless sea of power within me, churning as high as a storm. Subtly, I drew shadow into my palms as I kept my face calm.

“My story isn’t over yet,” I said before striking with every ounce of energy I had.

I didn’t even make it an inch.

The second my hands moved, pain spread through me. Ripping. Tearing. Burning. It all centered on the Marks that still laid on my neck. It had hurt feeling it through the Healer’s eyes, but this was agony. Unendurable and yet seemingly without end. My entire world narrowed to where they were on my skin.

I was faintly aware of falling, the ground rushing to my face as my body twitched, my throat raw from screams of agony.

“Hubris does not suit you,” Death said, curling the fingers of her hand she held aloft. The pain somehow doubled. I was being drawn and quartered, held at the moment before my limbs came loose. That was what my pain was. Every cell was agony. The world was only pain. A pain so terrible I forgot what existence was before it.

“Never forget how out of your depth you are,” Death said quietly, though I barely heard it. I had run out of air to scream, and a ringing filled my ears. Distantly I heard a male voice yell, but I couldn’t make out the words. I couldn’t focus enough to care.

Yes. This was my punishment for disobedience. A punishment for being weaker than her. She was going to kill me, and these Marks made me powerless to stop her. Letting my head relax, I stopped fighting the pain. This was going to be my end, but at least I still had my pride. Without these Marks, I knew I had a chance of winning. Or at least, that’s what I was going to tell myself.

And then it was gone.

Grass was damp beneath my face. Tears tracked down my cheeks, but the pain faded to a memory. I pushed myself cautiously to my side and looked at Death. Lorian stood next to her, leaning into her ear. Death’s face was now a thundercloud, her eyes tiny red slits in a sea of black.

My eyes refocused on the ground surrounding me. I felt the barrier protecting the plants pressing into my side, and I glanced that way. I was curled up next to a bush of white roses, the tiny thorns curling wickedly.

Then there were strong arms under me, pulling me to my feet. Zachariah grunted as he finished pulling me up, his eyes stony. I put weight through my legs cautiously, testing to see if I even could. Other than a few teetering steps, I seemed fine now. Sending a puzzled look at Zachariah, I opened my mouth to ask him why she stopped. It was unlike Death to be merciful, but I was sure I knew.

His scream. It had been he who had screamed something at her while I writhed on the ground like a weakling.

I closed my mouth, flexed my hands, and called some shadows. They responded, bringing warmth to my trembling limbs. Though some part of me was desperate for the pain not to return. It was strange to have so much pain evanesce like that.

Not that I was complaining.

“Enough,” Death said, and Lorian was a blur of motion as he went back to his original position. He stood with his arms behind his back, his face emotionless. Zachariah stayed by my side, his eyes going from the male angel to Death and back.

Looking back at Death, I saw her stalking back up the stairs of her throne. Lera stood, standing beside her mistress and smiling in anticipation. I didn’t like it. It was somehow almost as bad as the pain.

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“The Laws of Origin shorten your pain, Chosen,” Death said, settling herself on her throne with her legs crossed.

“But they will not save you.”

She lifted her chin, staring down at me impassively.

“Rowena McAlister, Blight of Grimwater and Chosen of Death. Your loyalty has been tested and been found,” she paused, leaning forward, “Wanting.”

She finished with the barest glance at Lera, who slowly drew her twin swords from behind her back, the hiss of metal exiting its sheath sounding in time to Death’s words.

Despite myself, I crossed my arms again.

“I owe you eleven-thousand souls. Why do the deaths of the Deified matter?” I said, lowering my voice.

“What if I killed them myself?”

Death canted her head, listening. Zachariah stiffened next to me, but I ignored him.

“I’ll kill them myself if they matter so much to you,” I said, sending her an adder’s grin, “Then we both get what we want.”

Death was silent for a long moment, and then she started to laugh.

My face fell as I listened to her, the sound roiling through my stomach. Death finally looked at me, and I didn’t miss the victory in her eyes.

“Fate has smiled upon me since this started, Rowena. Chaos will reign regardless of the Deified’s existence or not at this point,” Death said, resting her head on her hand, “Their souls no longer matter to me.”

A close-lipped smile.

“Your obedience, however, does.”

Lera stepped forward, her wings spread wide as she gripped her swords and stepped down the stairs.

“Is the honor mine, My Lady?” Lera asked, bouncing on her heels like a child on their name day.

“Yours or Lorian’s. Just don’t play with your food,” Death replied, reclining in her throne and steeping her fingers like a noblewoman about to watch an opera.. Lera glanced at Lorian, who shook his head. Grinning wider, she held her muscular arms aloft as she stopped ten feet from me.

“Take this,” Lera said, tossing me one of her swords, “You’re going to need it.”

Side stepping, I let the blade hit the ground, not even bothering to look at it. So I had to fight Lera the Bane herself. There was a reason she was a legend. Many Bards of the material world held story Marks about her and Lorian both. People name constellations after them for their many deeds.

And now I had to fight her. Or get torn apart. Permanently.

“That’s alright,” I said, summoning shadows and giving them form. A sword appeared in one of my hands, and a shadow pistol appeared in my other.

“I brought my own weapons.”

Lera bared her teeth, coming forward and stooping to pick up her sword where it laid.

“You’re going to regret that,” she singsonged.

And then she lunged. Time seemed to slow, and I lifted my arm in a parry, somehow striking her thrust aside. The blade bit into my arm though, making blood gush. But she was within range now. I angled my pistol upward, putting the barrel right under her chin and pulling the trigger.

Too easy, I thought with a smile as I tracked the shard of shadow that exploded from it. But I was so wrong.

CRACK.

Lera vanished from in front of me, my shadow shooting high into the sky. I didn’t have time to be confused before a fist collided with my back. I was thrown forward as if from a cannon, the blow knocking all the wind from my lungs. I tumbled head over heel, struggling to find purchase over the shifting plane of plants.

Finally righting myself, I aimed back the way I had come on instinct, pulling the shadow sword across my body as a makeshift shield. I didn’t have time to reform it into an actual one. Grunting, I fired again and realized what she had just done.

Lera had stopped time.

Fuck. It sucked when I was on the receiving end of that trick.

In the same moment of pulling the trigger, I reached for the area of ice inside me. Fine. She wasn’t the only one who could use Death’s power. I reached further inward, preparing to move and corner her in a curtain of shadow spikes in my own time stop.

Only the ability wasn’t there. There was only a horrible pit where it had been. Nothing responded to my call.

My eyes widened before I heard another CRACK.

Lera chuckled from behind me before kicking me back toward the central plane. Her foot landed in the exact spot her fist had, and I felt something crack in my soul’s spine. The plane blurred as I was sent soaring again. Landing in a heap, I was back in front of Death’s throne. Pain sang in my back, even as I felt my body healing itself from Lera’s sledgehammer of a blow.

Wings rustled, and Lera landed beside me.

“Stopping time is a privilege Lady Death grants only to the worthy,” she said, twirling her swords in her hands, “A privilege you no longer have.”

My soul finished mending itself, and a growl escaped me. At least my shadows were still working. Closing my eyes, I reached for the shadows looming behind Lera. I pulled at them, and they struck, quick as lightning as they formed into blades.

But Lera dodged at the last moment, curving her body at an impossible angle. They flew over my head, making Zachariah dive out of the way to avoid being sliced to ribbons.

I reached into the shadow beneath me, grasping and forming it into a dagger. I swung my arm high as she was in her awkward angle, my heart leaping. The tip reached its snapping point, and I knew I was going to draw first blood.

There was the whine of a blade moving through air, and then it bit into my wrist. It cut my hand off cleanly as if it went through parchment.

The pain hit me a second later, but I bit back the scream.

Lera laughed again, stalking around me in a circle. She twirled her blades again and again in complicated formations too fast for my eyes to track. Realizing she was giving me a reprieve, I slowly regained my feet, breathing heavily. That’s when I saw it. Part of the fabric between the plates of her armor on her side now hung loose, a sliver of skin showing beneath. I hadn’t managed to cut her though.

“I already danced this dance with the weakling of a shifter,” I said, feeling sweat gather on my brow as I tried to push the pain in my hand down, “Come at me all you want. I’ll just heal and come back harder.”

Lera tilted her head facetiously, her eyes glinting just like Death’s. She lifted her blade, letting me see my blood on its shining surface. The blade of gleaming black metal I didn’t recognize.

“Will you heal?” she asked simply in the tone one uses when talking to a toddler. I scoffed, rolling my eyes until I realized she was right. I looked down.

Blood was still flowing from my bloodied stump of a right arm, and it wasn’t stopping. It wasn’t even slowing down. And that wasn’t all. My arm was still bleeding as well where her blade bit into my skin.

The metal was somehow blocking my ability to regenerate.

Looking back up at Lera, I saw her blade glint again, and my blood slowly absorbed into its surface.

Lera barked yet another laugh as she saw the realization dawn on me, sweeping into a bow.

“Welcome to your execution, former Chosen. Expect pain.”