Believe it or not, Stone was a very good teacher. He was strict, but fair. He punished my mistakes as often as her complimented my victories. He never held back in our lessons. Not even once. He knew what to teach and when to teach it. I took comfort in the many sessions where I exercised until I tasted blood. There were many days where I could barely get into Dusk's saddle from being so sore. However, as grueling as my training was, I never begrudged it. I had asked for it, after all.

Pain. That was what I wanted.

A large portion of me wanted some sort of punishment for what happened to Fayra. It was my fault that she was dead. I felt that in every fiber of my being. I wanted to be put on trial and found guilty for her murder. I wanted to be put in a jail cell and rot there for a millennium or two. I wanted to swing from the gallows until Death took pity on me. Just so I could see her again.

But no.

The world moved on without her. Barely anyone noticed she was gone, or had even been here to begin with. No retribution came for me. There was only the occasional bounty seeker looking to collect the price on my head for killing their gang boss, but it was never enough. So I took every punch, every kick, and every bruise gladly. All the while, I cursed the Gods and the Deified for ignoring the Bounty Hunter's Guild plea for help. I tracked down the rat who had sold Fayra out. All the while, I just wanted to die.

And then there was Death. I hated her as much as I hated myself. She was the one capitalizing on my grief. It was only after our deal was struck that I figured out something about her and the rest of the Gods. They didn't give a single solitary damn about humans.

And now Zachariah was Marked. By Death.

A Mark that was now glowing with a familiar radiant blue.

"Don't!" I bellowed at the top of my voice, lunging toward him with my hands raised in warning. On instinct more than anything else, Zachariah dodged with fluid grace. He moved as if we hadn't just finished sparring.

I growled, taking a moment to flip in the air before he could mount an attack. I felt my foot connect solidly with muscle between his neck and shoulder. Zachariah didn't flinch, absorbing my attack to push me off balance. I had to reach to the floor to keep my face from connecting with it.

Zachariah's iron fingers enclosed my ankle in an unforgiving grip.

He pivoted on his heel, throwing me out into the snow and grass. I rolled with my landing, ending on my heels to redirect back to him. Red swirled in the corners of my vision at the thought of him asking Death for help. I had to stop him before he made the same mistake that I did. I charged up to him as he sank into a fighting stance. We were done sparring now. This was a fight.

Zachariah held his ground until I was nearly to the door. He then stepped out of the way in the span of a millisecond.

It was at that moment that Myra opened the door again.

"Are you two--Ah!" Myra cried, ducking just before my fist made contact with her face. Lost in my momentum, I flew through the threshold, colliding with Myra in a tangled heap.

"Ow! Get off of me!" Myra ordered as I rounded back to Zachariah, who still had glowing eyes. My breath came in ragged bursts, my hands shaking. I watched Zachariah with wary eyes, waiting for him to run.

Instead, he held his hand out with his palm raised in an unmistakable sign to stop. Sanity returned to me in that moment. What in the Hells was I doing? We stood there for several seconds, both of us breathing hard. His eyes met mine, demanding an explanation. Taking a final deep breath, I swallowed as I tried to find the right words.

"That Mark is Death's, Zachariah. She has no interest in helping you. Trust me," I murmured. A wrinkled formed on his brow as he considered me, though the glow in his eyes did not lessen. I saw the gears turning in his mind as we continued to stare at one another. His gaze went to the rows of Marks on my neck as he touched his own.

"A Mark From Death? The same one who has you bound?" he asked quietly.

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"What's all this talk about Death? What does she have to do with anything?" Myra asked, brushing herself off as she got back to her feet. Her hair was an absolute mess, and dust covered her from head to foot now.

"I'm Death's Chosen, Zachariah. It was...It was a mistake. I'd give anything to take it back," I explained, looking at my hand. I traced that spot where a scar should had been across my wrist. The spot I had cut as I made my promise to come for Fayra in the afterlife. Finally, I looked back to Zachariah, who still waited patiently.

"There's no winning in a deal with Death, Zachariah. She got Fayra, and she has me. Don't let her get you too."

His jaw hardened in a tight line as he stared and stared at me. My heart sank as I saw something shift in his eyes. Resolution.

It all happened in a second.

The glow trailing from his neck to his eyes faded for the slightest moment, before blazing with a new life. His eyes widened, going distant. I knew what that meant.

Oh no you don't! I thought as I burned a Mark of my own, going willingly to Death's purgatory. Again.

*******

A phantom wind played with my hair, spreading the smell of all the flowers. The same landscape of greenery flowed before me, seemingly endless. I didn't give myself time to take it in. I ran through the night-garden, my dress whipping around me as I charged through the growth.

Come on, where are you?

He had to be here. I had to stop him before he did something stupid and noble and--

"Back so soon? My goodness! You're smothering me," came the primordial voice. It rippled through the air as the plants matured. The figure of a woman in her prime came into view at the base of a vast oak tree, black hair flowing with the air currents. A myriad of other plants grew around it's gnarled roots.

Death didn't even spare me a glance, instead looking fixedly at one of the plants. Her crimson eyes held no warmth as she reached toward a purple grouping of flowers. It was a small lavender patch, a seed dropping to the ground in a small pod.

"Well, would you look at that? It would seem that another child was born in the material plane. Life must be very busy lately," she said, caressing the seed. It rolled in her palm until she closed her fist around it in a firm grip.

"I wonder how long you'll last before you become mine," she murmured almost to herself, a humorless smile pulling at her lips before she let the seed drop to the ground again.

Steeling myself, I approached Death. It was hard to appreciate how tall the Goddess was until I was close to her. She towered over me even as she was bent toward the fragrant ground, reminding me of how small I truly was.

"Is there something you want? Out with it, my dearest Chosen," Death said, standing to her full height.

"Where is he?' I asked as evenly as I could. Death's smile widened.

"He who?" she asked playfully, taking a moment to pluck a leaf from the oak tree. She played with it until it turned brown in her hands.

I didn't respond, crossing my arms over my chest. Death chuckled darkly at my insolence, maintaining her innocent expression for a few more moments before shaking her head.

"Oh all right. Not in the mood for games are we?" Death asked, plucking another leaf from the tree. It also turned brown.

"He was already here. You missed him," she said simply, closing the leaf in her fist and letting the fragments blow in the wind. They danced in the air, going over the red ocean in the distance, and then to the small island across it. The Far Shore.

I stifled a breath.

"I was less than a second behind him! How could he not be here anymore?" I asked, looking for him in vain again.

"Time is subjective in Purgatory," Death said in explanation before striding down a small path. I struggled to keep up with her, even as I tried to push down my panic.

"What have you done to him?" I asked acidly, jogging to catch up to Death's long-legged steps. She surprised me by stopping, her red eyes flashing in warning.

"Careful, pet. You're dangerously close to disrespect," she said as pain trickled through me. It wasn't enough to make me cry out, but instead served as a reminder of what she could do to my soul. She let the sensation continue for a moment before she turned her gaze to the path once more.

"But you can settle those feathers of yours. We couldn't come to an agreement, so I sent him back," she said lightly, reaching down to pluck a white rose.

"What do you mean?" I asked warily, my stomach in knots. Death turned her eyes on me again, hair beginning to turn gray. The rose withered in her hand as well, the petals falling from the central bud. They too were carried across that red ocean to the Far Shore.

"He asked for something. Something I was not willing to part with. So I told him to ask for something else," she said, her skin withering away on her bones, "But he said that he didn't want anything else."

I saw it then. Death's pupils turned to red-rimmed slits, glowing in the low light. But, as suddenly as it happened, her eyes returned to normal. So fast that I could have imagined it.Her voice was even and calm when she spoke again, a final tickle of pain going through me.

"So he gave his Mark back."