I step out of the room, and there she is—already waiting for , dressed in sothing new. OOF. How do I even explain this?
What is that outfit? It looks like soone stitched together a noble’s wedding dress, a knight’s armor, and ten thousand spiderwebs, then stood back and said, "Yes. This will lt the minds of peasants."
Black silk drapes over her like flowing shadows, white lace exploding across her chest as if it’s trying to declare war on the world. Stockings so smooth they probably cost more than my entire village hug her legs, and in her hand she carries a parasol—not for shade, but like the royal banner of doom.
She’s... so hot in this. Oh boy. I think I’m losing my mind for Death. Soone, please, slap back into reality.
"I see you’re well. I forgot to ntion—there are so areas in this castle you shouldn’t explore, if you care for your dear life." She says it with a sweet laugh, winking at before spinning around to show off her outfit. Seriously... how lucky am I?
"Oh, I thought you wouldn’t mind wandering too much."
"I don’t. But be aware—the fifth floor is too dangerous for you as you are right now. You’re too weak... maybe I should train you a little."
"You?" The word blurts out of my mouth before I can stop it, and Death instantly puffs her cheeks out, stomping her foot like a sulky princess.
"Hmph! I’m not as weak as you imagine! And besides, who would ever want to train a rude person like you?" She flicks her parasol closed with a snap and crosses her arms, face turning away with exaggerated sharpness. "No manners at all. No wonder you only have as your wife. You should be down on your knees thanking instead."
Seriously, can she get any cuter? But also—what the fuck? What did I even say wrong? I almost killed her if not for the cola... but honestly, it turned out better than I expected. So maybe it’s a win after all.
"Alright, alright... I’m sorry, okay? I was rude." I sigh to myself. I think my Pa once told that the key to marriage is to always understand that no matter what, you’ll forever be in the wrong. Maybe I finally get what he ant by that.
"Doesn’t sound very sincere..." She shoots a glance, and I can see her eyes tremble, as if she’s expecting sothing from . But I have no idea what I’m supposed to do here.
"Honestly... so dull..." She rolls her eyes, then suddenly grabs my hand and pulls into her cold embrace.
"Death?" Her grip is suffocating—literally. Yet her scent catches off guard. She slls of fresh flowers, roses most of all, sweet and sharp at the sa ti. Just a single breath of her is enough to send all the signals rushing to the wrong places... if you know, you know.
"Let just stay like this a little longer," she whispers softly. I only nod and let myself sink into the mont. I wonder if she drugged or cast so spell, because I’m enjoying this way too much.
"Also... call by my na. Always calling by my title makes it feel like we’re not that close at all."
"You have a na?!" I exclaim, maybe a little too loud.
"Don’t shout... you idiot." She smacks my butt, then pushes back just enough to glare at with flushed cheeks. EXCUSE !? "Of course I have a na... I just don’t reveal it to anybody."
She covers her face with both hands, her voice muffled, her whole posture blushing like a boiling pot. "Well... if you really want to know... my na is... Amara"
"Amara..." I whisper back. The mont her na leaves my lips, my head whirls violently, the world spinning like a carriage wheel gone mad. My knees give way beneath , and I collapse, gasping for air. My chest feels like it’s being crushed between a blacksmith’s iron tongs.
I can’t breathe. Not even a shred of air enters my lungs. My vision blurs, my stomach lurches, and then it surges up my throat. I retch violently, crimson splattering the ground. Blood. I’m vomiting blood. Am I... dying?
"NO! QUILL! I’M SORRY!" Amara’s voice breaks in panic, trembling with raw fear. She catches as I fall, her arms shaking, and a surge of cold power rushes into my body, coiling through like winter’s breath. It steadies the pain for a mont, but I know I’m slipping away.
My consciousness dims. This ti... it feels final.
"You will not die!" Amara’s cry tears through the dark, desperate and furious. "Don’t even think of it—I will never take you! I will never allow it! I control the cycle itself, and my na shall not be the curse that steals you from . I renounce it!"
My whole body feels like it’s drained of the last bit of strength. How? How can a single na tear apart like this? Shit... I will not give up. I want to live! I can’t die!
And then, the world freezes. Sound and ti collapse, and for the first ti, air floods back into my lungs.
"If fate wishes to take away the only person I love, then I shall destroy fate itself, and rewrite it under the na Amara." Her voice resounds everywhere at once—inside , above , beneath the earth. It feels like the entire world is speaking her words.
"No longer will I remain as Death. I choose to walk among the living. I break my curse, because nothing—not fate, not the cycle, not eternity itself—matters more than my love for Quill."
A shockwave bursts outward, pure force tearing reality apart, and everything dissolves into nothingness.
And just as quickly, my eyes snap open. The world reforms. I’m lying in a shabby wooden bed, the air thick with the stench of stale beer and sweat. A tavern. The ache in my body feels real, heavy, but familiar.
"Ho..." I mutter, taking in the crooked beams and the reek of spilled ale. But then it hits ...
"Amara!" I panic, bolting upright, scanning the room. She’s gone. My chest seizes, grief crashing into all at once. Damn it... did I really get so attached to her? I can’t even believe my own feelings, but without her here, the world feels... empty.
"Mmmhmmm..." A muffled sound crawls out from under the bed. A pale hand, cold as snow, stretches into the light.
"Quill? Are we... in your world?"
For the first ti in my life, I feel what true joy is. My chest loosens, a weight lifts, and a shaky sigh escapes .
She’s alive...
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