Rowena

“Don’t make me repeat myself,” I said too quietly, digging a taloned finger into the Chosen’s skin. He whimpered, his head lolling through his pain. Surprisingly his gaze went to Lorian again, the tall winged warrior standing still as a statue.

“Please” he murmured again, little more than a moan before it pitched into a howl of pain. Blood sprayed once again as I tore an “X” over his left eye socket, wrenching his eye free. A second later I moved onto the right eye.

Ignoring his plea, the angel just stared at him, his face carved from glacier stone.

“Your Hell will continue until you answer me,” I whispered, hooking shadows into his skin and lifting him high into the air, “So come on now. We mustn't keep Lady Death waiting. Your name. Now.”

The Chosen contorted, thrashing wildly against his pain as section after section of his skin tore. But I just kept adding more whenever he threatened to pull free. A laugh escaped me as I watched him. Then another.

And distantly I felt my heart remember an older man in a gun smith’s shop, his kind face bubbling up from some distant place of my mind.

"Hello Little One," says the old man. Yared. He holds me at arm's length, and a touch of sadness enters his eyes.

"Not so little anymore, I suppose."

And it is replaced.

The old man looks at me, his eyes full of pain. We are in the God of Knowing's Purgatory, and there is the sound of a book tearing in half.

"This isn't your faul--"

His voice is cut off as his soul shatters beneath my hands.

The images flashed across my thoughts, and I recognized him from my weaker self’s past. Oh yes, that’s right. The Chosen tore his book and destroyed his soul. Yared. An old man who couldn't even fight back. Dark as I was in this form, even I was disgusted by that. And now, as the Chosen screamed and screamed, I felt nothing but satisfaction. And that deeper personality, the Healer, felt it as well.

See? I whispered to her. We aren't so different after all.

My shoulders lifted in a shrug at the thought. Fine. If the remnant of my weaker self took some joy in this, then so be it. Maybe I could see how long he could last before I needed to let him heal again. Let’s see. What could I try next? Maybe-

“IAMN!!”

The scream tore free from the Chosen as if that was all the air he had left in his lungs. Blinking, I lowered him back to the sand by dispelling my shadows. He collapsed face-down, breathing like beached fish. I felt myself grin at him. I had almost forgotten what I was doing, but then I remembered. I asked for his name.

Because there was only one way I wanted to kill him, and I needed to know his name in order to do it.

“Iamn what?” I asked, stooping to gaze directly into his misshapen face. He coughed again, but I was able to catch the muttered words in it.

All my teeth were bared now as the corners of my mouth lifted. I felt the gazes of Zachariah, Lorian, and Lera on me as they waited for my next move, but I ignored them. Let them look. They weren't going to stop me.

I summoned my shadows a final time, positioning them to curl around the Chosen’s legs.

“Well then Iamn,” I said, putting posh into my voice, “Would you be kind enough to escort a lady back to her Purgatory?”

Not waiting for him to answer, I tightened my shadows around his legs and lifted him. I whipped him through the air in a large circle to gain momentum. Once. Twice. Three Times.

Finally I let him go, throwing him back toward the Night Garden.

*******

It took more than one throw, but I didn’t allow the Chosen to escape. He didn’t even try. All the fight was out of him. Finally, he landed in a mass of broken bones on the soft grass of the fragrant place. We were right in the heart of the garden now. Where I would have the best view. It was a small clearing with a familiar grand tree on one side, its braches thick and strong with some sort of small fruit hanging from it. Small paths of grass weaved among the carpet of flowers, herbs, and other plants of the rolling dark plane, all glowing with a feint silver as the barrier to protect them pulsed.

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Lorian and Lera were close behind, and I saw Zachariah being carried by the male angel. The mortal Elemancer’s eyes were stony, but he was wise enough to keep his mouth firmly shut. Good.

I flexed my hands and rolled my neck, marveling at the energy still coursing through me. I wasn’t tired in the slightest, even though the Chosen looked to be completely out of energy. How were we the same being? Moreover, how was this pathetic thing before me even able to defeat other Chosen? The thought of it bothered me.

The Chosen rolled over to his side and curled into a fetal position, his body slowly mending together. I let it happen, leaning over so my shadow stretched across his face.

“What a weakling. I think that position suits you,” I said, using a toe to push him onto his back and giving him a flat look.

“You were lying before,” I said, letting my eyes trail over the surrounding plants, “You didn’t defeat the other Chosen. You’re not strong enough.”

It wasn’t a question, and he knew it. His face snapped to mine, the indistinct features catching in the low silvery light. I waited for him to explain. After a breath, he did.

"They weren't worthy," he said suddenly with a pained laugh as more of his skin knitted together, "I simply helped their Gods to realize that."

"So you tricked their Gods into turning away from them. Once they were weakened, you went in for the kill," I concluded, "That fits. A pathetic worm past and present."

He didn't react to the comment, instead curling in on himself again. Looking around the garden again, I pulled in a deep breath. Fine. That was one mystery solved. I was finally ready to end this.

"Iamn Othing," I whispered into the wind, voicing the name of the thing at my feet. My voice sent a ripple through the air, and it radiated out as if I had just dropped a stone in a mill pond. It turned to a current, all seeming to seek out one place, and I followed it with my eyes.

A patch of Hemlock weed lit up suddenly, interwoven in the other plants at the base of the largest tree in the garden. The silvery barrier dissolved around it, but every leaf suddenly was alight with white color. The entire plant itself had tiny white flowers on the top, and it swayed as the wind swept toward it with my voice. It stayed lit as I approached it slowly. Every mortal had it's own physical representation in each Purgatory. The God of Knowing had his books, and Death had her garden. A garden of souls.

Everything seemed to wither, the plants aging in their cycle as I approached. I ignored it and kept my eyes fixed on the Hemlock. A weed. The Chosen shifter was a weed, and a poisonous one at that. Of course he was.

Turning, I poised my hand above it and met the Iamn's gaze. He had rolled onto his knees and was kneeling, his hands clawing in the dirt. A condemned man waiting for the executioner's swing. This was it. After this moment, he would be on his way to the Abyss, where his soul would be food for the abyssal creatures. His very existence would be gone, and he would cease to exist. Just like the old man, only this one deserved it.

"Any last words?" I asked, my voice soft in the silence. Lorian and Lera stood rigid as Zachariah's eyes swept between the Iamn and I like two sparring wolves.

The shifter, Iamn Othing nodded, still on his knees. He opened his mouth to speak.

And then he was screaming again, fractures of light splintering his face. Pieces of his soul were flaking apart now, but not fast like they had with Yared. It was happening slowly, drifts of light pulling away from him like dust.

Smiling, I looked down at the Hemlock again, my own fist crushing it slowly. Grainy segments pressed between my fingers, but I kept squeezing tighter and tighter, and the screams increased in pitch.

Most of his body was gone now, but I looked back to him, making sure to catch his attention as the final wailing continued.

"Nobody cares what you have to say. Now disappear," I said, and I knew he heard me, throwing his head back and fourth in denial of what was happening. I maintained his gaze for several long and agonizing moments before pulling the hemlock out of the ground entirely and snapping it in half.

His screams cut off.

A hand landed on my shoulder, and I looked up to see Lera towering above me, her muscular hand offered to me. She nodded her head toward the Hemlock in my grasp. That same manic smile was still on her face, and I thought for a moment it must be permanent.

"I'll take that," she said with another jerk of her chin, before pulling the weed out of my hands with a chuckle. She was gone in the next moment before my eyes could even track her movement. There was only the sound of wind. Wind and wings. Frowning, I looked back over to where Iamn was kneeling.

But there was nothing left to see.

Victory swelled in the pit of my stomach. I had won. Utterly and Completely. A smile split my face as I was unable to contain my excitement, and I curled my hands into fists.

The rest was going to be so damned easy! All I had to do was go back to the material plane and pay my debt. And with my weakness finally behind me, nothing was holding me back anymore. Ten years. Ten long years, but I was finally going to be free of Death. I knew exactly how I was going to celebrate.

I was going to take her realm from her.

Summoning my shadows again, I strode away from the central tree to where Lorian and Zachariah stood, but they didn't seem to be paying attention. Lifting a brow at them, I failed to notice that the plants were still withering. The air was turning colder, but it didn't matter. I needed to decide what to do with Zachariah. He could be a problem when we went back to the Mortal realm.

Something deep within started to scream.

DON'T YOU TOUCH HIM!

The voice came raw and strong as soon as the thought crossed my mind, but I shoved it down. The most Zachariah had done in this fight was stay out of the way. But he had seen my true form now. That could be troublesome if I took him back to the mortal realm with me.

My eyes strayed to Lorian as well. He could prove to be a problem too.

But neither were paying attention to me still. I tracked their eyes to the tree I had just walked away from. And that when I noticed the air getting colder, my breath starting to come out in clouds.

And then someone started to clap behind me. Slowly, and with each having its own echo in the clearing.

I pivoted on my heel and saw the tree had curled into a tiered throne. I looked up. And up. Until I saw the primordial being seated atop the throne, her red and black eyes smiling at me as she clapped.

"That was a wonderful show, my Chosen. What is your judgement, Lera?" Death said, still clapping. With a breeze of wind, Lera suddenly appeared beside her. The dark angel immediately swept into a bow at her Goddess's feet, her head bowed in deference.

"Your orders were disobeyed just as you said, My Lady," Lera said, her eyes still down. Death looked from her to me with crimson slits for eyes, taking several moments to answer. I may have imagined it, but I could have sworn she looked at Zachariah as well for a fraction of a second.

"And now," Death said, laying her hands on the armrests of her throne, "Your consequences."