I was very young when I realized what death meant.

On the night the thief came to rob us, my mother told me to hide under the bed and protect Levi, my infant brother. Steel clanged as gunshots rang out. Cries of pain from both my mother and the thief echoed in our tiny home for what seemed like hours.

And then all was quiet.

I came out of hiding to find my mother lying in a pool of her own blood. The thief laid nearby, sightless eyes gazing at nothing.

She had been pale, her hands pushing against a gunshot wound. My young hands didn't know what to do to help her, so I began to cry. Even wounded, she still found a way to comfort me.

"Hush, my Curadh," she had whispered, using her other hand to wipe away my tears. A small lilt came back to her voice whenever she reverted to her family's native tongue from Turanah, an island of green flowing hills and monoliths of ancient stone. She always called me curadh. I would find out many years later that it meant angel.

My mother's eyes drooped as I used my small body to cover her. She ran her hand over my hair in an easy rhythm, each stroke slower than the last. Even as a neighbor sent for an apothecary, I begged her and begged her not to go. I told her I couldn't survive without her. That I would break without her. She couldn't go the Far Shore. Not yet.

"Souls are never broken, Curadh" she had murmured as she fought to stay awake, "Only lost for a little while."

Those were her last words to me before she succumbed to her injuries. And then the fever took her.

Souls are never broken. Only lost for a little while. That phrase had carried me through every hard moment of my life. Every fight. Every kill. Every funeral. I just kept repeating those words to myself over and over. I deluded myself into believing them because, if I didn't, then there was nothing left. I had to believe that at some point in my existence there would be some place that I would find the people I cared about again. Our bonds weren't broken. We were only ships drifting aimlessly on a vast ocean. One day we would find ourselves again on that distant shore.

Souls are never broken. Only lost for a little while.

But now, as I saw Yared's soul dissolve into fractals of light, I realized one thing.

My mother was wrong.

*******

The cloaked Chosen chuckled as I watched the last shard of Yared's soul fade into nothing. It bounced off the shelves in an endless circle, filling my mind. I couldn't help it. I reached for the last fragment, my fingers closing around empty air.

"Do you know what the true tragedy is?" came the voice as I sank to my knees, the hard floor showing my reflection. My lighter self was gone this time. Only that woman cloaked in shadow stared back at me.

"You chose this. You chose to send him to gather information instead of finding me yourself. How unfortunate for him."

My shoulders curled, and my hands clenched at my chest. Everything in me went numb.

"Did you know that he had a visit from his doctor recently? Good news! His condition is improving!"

A snort.

"Well, it was improving until recent events. He could have lived on for several more years if it weren't for you."

I closed my eyes, surprised that they were dry. I fled into the darkness behind them even as the Chosen went on and on.

"What's this silence, My Lady? Grief? Regret?"

I took refuge behind my closed lids, seeking that blackness. My world was too loud. Too painful. I wanted the quiet and the void.

You let me out, Rowena, the demon whispered, But you haven't taken that last step yet. You are the source of your darkness. It is in you. It is of you.

Another chuckle came from the shelves.

"All out of fight, are we? Well don't worry."

Pain ripped across me, fresh and strong as any whip, as I heard the familiar sound of a tearing page. I felt phantom hands on me as the Chosen shifted my book in his grasp.

"You won't be in pain for much longer."

It is in you and of you.

I kept my eyes shut as I felt the world fading around me. Something nagged at the edge of the numbness, demanding to be heard. The Chosen was talking again, but I couldn't hear him. I felt them now. The dark places between all things called to me. Each one was a small oasis of quiet and calm. Time, pain, and fear no longer had meaning within them. The veil between myself and those small voids became thinner and thinner. There was only the edgeless dark, the sound of my tortured heart, and my ragged breathing.

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It is in you and of you.

Prickles of pain pierced the void. My soul was tearing. Everything was falling apart. My book was being ripped in half, and yet I still clung to those voids. And that was when I gave myself over to that void entirely.

I screamed, the air rippling around me as I called to them.

And they answered.

I felt something drip onto my outstretched palm. Then came another on my arm. Then another. And then another. I opened my eyes and grinned. Raindrops of shadow came from everywhere. Between the shelves. From under the books. From the fathomless sky itself.

The Chosen began to scream.

The drops of darkness gathered on my skin, turning it the shade of the starless sky. I realized I was growing taller, my arms reaching impossibly far. My eyes were rimmed in radiant light as my other features faded into blackness. I was flying, my body weightless. I was no longer a person. I was the void, and the void was me. The nothingness that came after the light faded. The place dreamers went to when the dreaming was done.

A monster. A humanoid phantom made of shadow and loathing.

An inhuman growl crawled up my throat as I recognized what fueled me now. Rage. Pure unadulterated hatred.

I clenched my fists, calling the shadows on the shelves. They came crashing to the floor, cracking as books scattered everywhere.

I turned to the Chosen. His screams had reached a new tenor. He laid in a pool of blackness, slowly sinking into its depths. Large gashes were everywhere on his soul, blood running in rivers to the floor. A book, my book, laid just beyond his grasp.

He yelped as I approached, but the shadows only clawed at him more, holding him in place. He began to transform into several different shapes. A man. A goliath. A bird. Even a spider. It didn't matter. The shadows held him tight.

He transformed back into a goliath as I approached, muscles bulging as they tried to pull free.

I canted my head to the side, coming within inches of his face.

"There is only one person in my life who would have counseled mercy for you," I whispered, my hair flowing in a phantom wind around me.

A flick of the wrist, and a sword of shadow appeared. The Chosen howled, his face contorted in rage.

"But thanks to you," I went on as I trailed the blade around his face, "he isn't here."

The Chosen smiled suddenly, his form shrinking into something smaller.

Something feminine.

Until Fayra stared out at me from my shadows.

"And it's thank to you," she said in a voice filled with pain, "That I'll never see the light of another da--"

A tendril of darkness wrapped itself around her throat as I growled again.

"Cheap tricks will not save you. You have just made your last mistake," I murmured as I held my blade aloft, aiming to plunge it into the Chosen's chest. This was it. My victory. My revenge. And it only cost me my last shred of hope. But I couldn't wait long. I had pushed through some hidden barrier of my power, but I could feel it now.

The bottom of the well was approaching.

The shadows faded in and out of my control. The edge of my new form bent and shifted. My focus was slipping. If I didn't stop soon, I was going to rip myself apart. Book or no book. It didn't matter though. This form just had to hold out long enough for me to deal with my prey. My eyes glinted as I refocused on him. On it. This pathetic creature in front of me was my plaything. I would-

"Stop, my sister."

The voice wasn't particularly loud. It didn't even carry any real emotion. Nonetheless, the entire realm shook with it's power.

One moment we were alone. The next, a man stepped out from behind a shelf I had just toppled. He was not muscular, but lithe and thin. His face was angular, and his eyes were narrow. Skin as pale as snow seemed to glow under black hair. He wore a black suit with no tie, bare feet padding on the floor with the grace of a cat. His eyes were an expressionless gold surrounding dilated pupils.

He stopped short of us, gazing from his Chosen, to me, and then back again.

The God of Knowing sighed.

"You," he said calmly, shifting his gaze back to me, "Are not Death."

"Give it time," I said too quietly, tightening the chord of shadow around the shifter's neck. He let out a bleat of pain as he shifted to the form of a panther, paws clawing at me. One of the managed to reach me, scratching a deep line in my check. The shadow melded around it even as I bled. The panther sprung from his prison of shadows, sprinting from me before rounding back. I ran after him, reaching for his shadow and pulling. The panther roared as it was forced to halt. As I ran toward him, he shifted to the form of a griffin, a clawed wing catching me off guard with a sharp stab to my abdomen.

We both readied another attack before the Chosen sank to his knees, reeling in absolute agony.

"I said to stop."

Turning back, I saw the God of Knowing glaring at his Chosen, his eyes glowing a like gold in a forge. After several moments, he blinked. The Chosen's screams of pain faded and he slowly regained his feet. All went silent as I looked to him. Ignoring me, the God clasped his hands behind him, all emotion leeching from his face as the shelves slowly stood back up of their own accord. The scattered books returned to their places one by one, and the bookcases began to float again.

"I sensed my sister's power wreaking havoc in my realm, only to find her Chosen here. It seems that we must have words soon," he said almost to himself as he faded from sight. Before I could react, he appeared next to me, his hand resting on my arm. Primordial power radiated from him and into me like having coals from a fire set on my skin. I hissed from the pain, stepping back from him. As I did, the shadows retreated from me, and I resumed my normal form.

I rounded on the God, pulling spears of shadow from nearby. They felt pathetic compared to the monster I had just been.

"He's mine to kill. He chose this fight," I said, clenching my fists and calling more shadows as my rage flared again. Three more shelves came crashing to the floor. The God watched them with unblinking eyes before he looked at his chosen. Faster that lightning, he touched a finger to the crown of his head, frowning. The shifter shrunk several inches as his God stared at him, his jaw clenching.

Finally, the God of Knowing met my eyes again.

"I see," he said simply, "I know it is your right, but I cannot allow it."

Pain beat through me as I felt the shred of control slip again. Everything in me wanted to attack, but even I wasn't that foolish. Instead, I decided to try to reason with him. He was the God of Knowing, after all.

"Do you know that's he's been killing your own Marked? Killing their families? Sending them to the abyss? How can you allow him to get away with it?" I asked, my voice rising with each word. The God didn't react besides a slow blink. Nothing could have prepared me for what he said next.

"Of course I will. I ordered him to do so."