Why do I bother making plans?

The people of the Yawning Caverns had a saying. The actions of mortals are the echoes of Fate. They believed it didn't matter what was done. Every blink, breath, and step were all part of an already-written story. The Story.

Fatalistic bastards.

I disagreed with them utterly. Screw that. I just wished something would go my way. Just once. Just. Fucking. Once.

The Chosen glanced at me, his eyes dancing as if my soul were already flaking apart under his meaty hands. I tried to keep my legs from shaking, examining my nails as if I didn't have any other cares in the world.

"So here we are, My Lady Chosen," he murmured, turning to face me fully and holding up a hand to count off his fingers, "Two immortals locked in a battle to the death with the fate of hundreds on the line."

He held two fingers up to me at arms length, his teeth bared in a snarl.

"First there's you. Empty of power and with a fighter who is useless against my abilities," he said, nodding his head toward where Zachariah had landed.

He lowered one finger and pointed to himself, his voice echoing softly in the garden.

"And then there's me. Fresh and ready to send another soul into the Abyss."

His fingers curled into a fist and he punched it into his other palm as he began to come toward me. The sound of flesh on flesh made me flinch despite myself as I heard the effortless force behind it. My eyes flecked to Zachariah, wondering why he had stopped attacking.

I was shocked when I saw he wasn't alone. Two winged people stood behind him, shortswords gleaming behind their backs even though the night sky was giving off precious little light. They were both impossibly tall, probably dwarfing Zachariah by several inches.

The female had thick muscular arms, and wore armor of gleaming black material I couldn't place. She had curly black hair and red irises. The male was slightly taller than her, though their resemblance was uncanny. He had the same powerful build and sculpted armor with curly black hair of his own. And the same red eyes. They were almost like Death's except their corneas weren't black like her's. The male had a all-consuming calm about him, with his expression having no emotion in it at all. I didn't quite know what to make of him.

The female, however, I knew was a problem with one look at her. I immediately disliked the arrogant cant of her head and the slightly manic gleam in her eyes. I remembered breaking up an animal fighting ring once. I saw one of the more vicious matches. I remembered the malicious look of the audience's faces as they roared with excitement while watching beasts tear flesh from bone.

She had that same expression in her eyes.

She leaned down to murmur something to Zachariah as it dawned on me. Angels. They were angels. Why were the Angels of Death here? I wasn't sure if I wanted the answer to that. Better yet, what was Zachariah doing? Making motherfucking friends?

An overlarge chest blocked my view of him.

"Any last words?" The Chosen asked as his eyes began to glow a radiant blue. The shadows within me leapt at his challenge, whispering words of blood in the deepest part of my mind. The other side of my coin wanted to show itself, and I felt as if I were balancing on the edge. A large portion of me wondered why I was bothering to hold it back, but the rational part of me knew I had been lucky to regain control last time. I didn't know what would happen if I let it out again. How many would die? One? Twenty? Two hundred?

Would I even stop this time?

And that wasn't my only problem. My energy wasn't coming back anymores It hadn't regenerated at all since the moment I set foot in this Gods-foresaken realm. In fact, the shadows were pressing harder on my soul now. The demon's door weakened with every passing moment I was here. I was running out of options, so I went with the only one I could think of.

Talking shit.

"I have a question," I said giving him my best smirk, even as I felt more and more of the darkness slide over my skin, "Can you tell me what it is?"

He smirked back.

"A touch of madness in your final moments? What do you want me to tell you?" he asked, his voice light with mirth as he canted his head to the side. I lifted a brow at him.

That's when I saw his gaze sharpen on my face and a wrinkle form between his brows. He narrowed his eyes in concentration before his jaw hardened.

"What's the matter?" I whispered, "Look into my mind and find the answer. Go on. I'll wait."

His nostrils flared before his arrogant mask slid back over his face and he chuckled darkly.

Talk, Rowena. Keep him talking. He likes talking.

"You can't read my mind here, can you? This is Death's Purgatory. The God of Knowing's pretentious gifts won't work here."

"What is your question?" he growled, his eyes glinting brightly in the shade under his brow.

I shifted my weight, crossing my arms across my chest.

"Why are you helping Black Pegasus make soul stones for the Elemancy guns?" I asked bluntly. The corner of his mouth quirked, and he lifted his chin skyward.

"Humanity has made its final error. This is part of a far bigger game than you know," he growled as his muscles bulged under his plane shirt. The radiant bliue light spread through the veins of his face.

The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

"What does that mean?" I asked, but he shook his head, his hands flexing dangerously.

"No sense explaining it to someone who won't exist soon."

He swiped his hand at my head, but I was ready for him. Swaying under his fist, I pivoted on my heel and tried bring my fist up under his forearm. My joints had oil in them, moving too easily. I lost my balance in my fatigue. I only just caught myself from falling, my palm pressing against the ground. I drew on the precious puddle energy I had remaining and cast a blade of shadow on my foot as I kicked straight upward between his legs.

Blood. A high-pitched scream.

"YOU LITTLE BITCH!"

My legs failed me. I couldn't spring back up like I intended, so I laid back and rolled. I caught sight of the damage I'd done and huffed. He had twisted at the last second, and a deep gash went through his upper leg leg now.

A leg that swung backwards for a kick.

I braced for impact, but I heard someone sliding on the ground, and it cracked as he went. The crack splintered toward the Chosen's feet, making him twist awkwardly to keep his footing.

Zachariah tucked me into his body and rolled us both to get some distance.

"Get away," he grunted, before kick-flipping himself into a standing position. I didn't waste the opportunity. I managed to stand and took some staggering steps away. Pulling in a breath, I turned just in time to see Zachariah shoot a ball of blue fire at the Chosen.

The Chosen just laughed at him, side-stepping his attacks easily. He may not have been able to read my mind, but he could easily read Zachariah's. He stayed light on his feet, enduring the stray flames from Zachariah's attack.

Even so, I saw the man's skin burn and boil under the heat of magical fire.

So what's the strategy here, Rowena? The demon whispered, an icy current racing under my skull. It burned in my mind, crawling through every cell. My hands flew to my temples, but it didn't matter. The voice kept coming.

You're just going to stand here and watch as your friend dies?

As if in answer, the Chosen's hand darted out. He caught Zachariah's leg as he lept and began beating him against a nearby tree. A feint silvery shield glimmered with each hit as the plants remained safe in the fight. The barrier looked similar to the one protecting the books in God of Knowing's library.

You thought you would have been able to bury me while you were here? That's like expecting a fish to swim slower when it's in water. This is my home. Our home. Stop fighting it and give in.

Zachariah grunted as he hit the tree a second time, casting a spike of rock to shoot from the ground right under the Chosen's feet. He dropped him in an instant, still side-stepping the spike. Zachariah bounded out of reach, the tattoos crawling over his skin as they shifted between the elemental patterns. First fire. Then earth. Then air, water, and back to fire.

He was keeping pace with the Chosen's attack's, but he also wasn't scoring any hits. And he was getting slower.

The Chosen's eyes found mine as he dodged an ice sword to his neck.

"Running away from your fight, My Lady? Come now. You brought me here--"

He cut himself off as Zachariah brought the ice sword around again, forcing him to dodge.

"I thought you wanted to kill me," The Chosen said mockingly, spreading his arms wide in invitation. As if this was all a game.

Curling my upper lip back, I shifted my weight forward and called to the shadows again despite the bone-deep fatigue in me. They didn't obey me. The best I could do was tiny ones the size of hair ribbons.

You can't win like this, and he'll run out of Elemancy eventually. Are you going to let another one die?

Flashes of Yared's bloody face came suddenly. Unbidden. They were replaced by Fayra's bloodied corpse in the street next. Then my mother's sweaty form as the infection took her.

I gritted my teeth and pulled on those shadows once again, tightening them until they were sharp as needles. Then I tucked one between each of the knuckles of my fists.

"You talk too much," Zachariah growled, drawing the Chosen's attention again. I sprinted forward as fast as I could in that moment, using my remaining strength to jump.

I landed on the Chosen's back, stabbing the needles between my kuckles into his thick neck. He howled, trying to buck me off. But I wasn't letting go. Even if my arms got ripped off and more of my soul flaked away.

I was just that stubborn.

"Burn Us!" I bellowed to Zachariah as the Chosen pivoted again, just barely keeping my hold. I twisting my fists, burying the shadow needles deeper into his neck. I curled them into hooks and drove them into my skin as well, pushing to claw further and further inside his soul. He tried to rip me off him, but the shadow hooks bound us together.

Zachariah hesitated, his expression hard.

"BURN US!" I repeated, sending him a nod. He immediately opened his palms, and the Chosen didn't have time to dodge this time with me on his back as the blue flames engulfed us.

If you've never had your soul burned before, allow me to describe it for you. I'm sure you already know this, but it isn't pleasant. It downright sucks. I would definitely not recommend it as a spa treatment.

Our souls ignited like kindling, and the pain was blinding. The flames mostly hit the Chosen and his screams reached a higher tenor as he ran and ran. He tried to transform into something smaller, but I kept all of my focus on holding on. Zachariah sent fire ball after fire ball at us, being careful to avoid me as much as possible.

But he couldn't do it entirely.

The Chosen's hands began to fall slack as he tossed himself to the ground and rolled to try to staunch the flames. But these were Elemancy flames. We kept burning until skin became charcoal. The Chosen rolled one more time, and fell still. Part of his arm fell into ash and I panted.

The ash blew on the wind as more and more fragments flaked away until her was just a pile of ashes.

I was a burned corpse, but I felt my Chosen ability sliding through me. My skin stitched me back together, and my hair regrew. Zachariah knelt before me as my scalp finally healed. My magic was still pitifully gone, but I supposed Death still didn't want me to die.

I had a debt to pay after all.

I looked up and saw that Zachariah's skin was bare now. He used all of his Elemancy to finish the Chosen off.

"I bet you never thought I'd let you burn me alive," I deadpanned as I panted a breath. My soul was in absolute agony. The demon was screaming in rage inside me, but that was where she would stay. I would never let her out again.

The corner of Zachariah's lip quirked and some of his red locks fell into his eyes as he shook his head at me.

The healing energy slowly made it's way down my back, the new skin reforming under the old. It flaked off me and scattered to the gentle wind of the garden. Zachariah stayed with me second by second, making sure I was healing fully. I laid on my back, looking to the night sky as I tried to figure out our next step. More ashes carried on the wind from where the Chosen's body laid, and I was glad he disintegrated to nothing. Like the nothing he was.

"Are you okay?" I asked, gesturing to Zachariah's leg. It was definitely bent the wrong way.

Before Zachariah could respond, a fist collided with his face.

He was thrown bodily to the side, and his body collided with the tree at the center of the garden. I pushed myself up, my body screaming in pain as I did so.

A bland and humanoid shape stood where the Chosen had laid.

It gazed at me with its blank face before morphing. Shifting. It became taller with lean muscle, clothing forming on it's surface. It's voice groaned with the transformation, becoming a familiar deep bass.

Sherriff Stone smirked evilly at me.

"Well then, Little Lady," he said in my mentor's voice, "It would seem you forgot that I can heal just as well as you can."

He took slow and measured steps toward me as I stared at him in shock. No. I saw his body turn all the way to ash. We were in Purgatory. How was he still alive?

"That was a great first act," The Chosen went on in Stone's voice, "But I think it's time for the finale."