Chapter V #2
Lady Thessa shook her head. "Her spirit has already begun to linger. She's caught between what was and what might have been. She belongs with me."
"She belongs where she can serve best," Seraphina snapped. "I claim her."
"As do I," Thessa said calmly.
The two Death Lords stared at each other across the platform.
The temperature began to rise as Seraphina's power flared, while spirits materialized around Thessa like a gathering storm.
The woman in the center circle swayed on her feet, caught between two competing claims, each pulling from a different direction.
Lord Caelum raised his hand for peace. "Ladies, please. The girl clearly bears the weight of unfinished sorrow. That speaks to both your domains. Perhaps we should let her choose."
"Choose?" Seraphina's voice was sharp with surprise.
"A rare honor," Caelum said gently. "But not unprecedented. When claims conflict, the tribute may select their own fate."
The woman looked between the two Death Lords with eyes that held no hope, only indifference. Finally, she spoke.
"I can't let go," she said. "I can't stop thinking about what I've lost."
Lady Thessa smiled, an expression both sad and triumphant. "Then come to me, child. We'll ensure you never forget a single moment of what you've lost."
As translucent spirits led the woman away, Brynn felt her stomach clench. She had just seen someone choose eternal haunting over the chance of being turned into a weapon. That said, everything about what awaited them in these domains.
The Reaper still hadn't moved, still hadn't shown the slightest interest in any of the proceedings. His shadows shifted restlessly around his feet, but his expression remained one of boredom.
The third tribute was the older merchant. He approached the center circle without faltering, his jaw set in grim determination. When he stood in the circle, and the symbols flared to life around him, he didn't flinch.
"I know what I am," he said before any Death Lord could speak. "A merchant who cheated his customers, who lied and stole and built his fortune on the backs of those who trusted him." His voice was flat, resigned. "I deserve whatever comes."
Lord Vex leaned forward with sudden interest. "Guilt. Self-awareness. The knowledge of one's own corruption. How delicious. You'll spend eternity dwelling on every choice that brought you here."
"Better that than pretending I was anything other than what I am," the merchant replied.
"Indeed." Vex stood and approached, his smile promising unpleasant things. "You'll do nicely in my domain. We appreciate honesty about one's vices."
As Vex led the merchant away, Brynn revised her read of the man. He'd known exactly what he was doing when he confessed. Choosing the devil he understood over the ones he didn't.
The fourth tribute was Morgan, and Brynn's chest tightened as the sobbing girl was pushed toward the center platform. Morgan's legs gave out halfway there, and she collapsed to her knees in the circle, shaking so hard the chains around her wrists rattled like wind chimes.
"Please," she whispered, the word barely audible. "Please, I just want to go home."
The Reaper spoke for the first time since arriving, his voice carrying easily, low but clear.
"Pathetic."
One word. Delivered with such cold dismissal that even Morgan's sobbing stuttered to a halt. His black eyes hadn't even entirely focused on the girl. She wasn't worth his complete attention.
"Fear without strength. Despair without defiance. She offers nothing of value."
Hells, he really was a piece of work, wasn't he?
Brynn had met cruel men before, plenty of them in her ten years of thieving, but this was something else.
This was cruelty that didn't even care enough to be deliberately vicious—just complete indifference, as if Morgan's terror was beneath his notice.
"Someone take her before her weeping becomes insufferable."
Lady Seraphina stood with a sharp smile. "I'll forge something useful from this raw material. Fear can be turned to rage with the right pressure."
As armored spirits stepped forward to lift Morgan from the platform, the girl was still sobbing. But there was something different in her tears now—a spark of something that might have been anger beginning to burn through the despair.
Four tributes claimed. One Death Lord yet to choose. One tribute remaining.
Brynn walked to the center circle without waiting to be pushed.
The moment her feet touched the inlaid metal, the symbols around the platform's edge began to glow with the same cold light as before. Energy crackled through the air around her, but she kept her spine straight and her chin high.
Even if her heart was hammering and every instinct screamed that she was standing in the direct line of sight of something that could erase her from existence with a thought.
"Another peasant," Lady Seraphina said with a dismissive wave. "Probably die of fright before anyone can make use of her."
"Unremarkable," Lord Vex agreed, already losing interest. "No particular obsessions, no consuming desires. Hardly worth the effort."
Lady Thessa nodded absently. "Nothing draws me to this one. No unfinished business, no desperate attachments."
Lord Caelum offered Brynn a gentle smile. "You seem calmer than the others, child. That's wise. Peace makes any transition easier."
But the Reaper had gone perfectly still.
While the other Death Lords dismissively discussed her like she wasn't standing right there, he studied her with such intensity that the frost around his feet spread even further across the stone. The shadows surrounding him stirred, reaching toward her before pulling back like they'd been burned.
"You're not afraid."
An observation delivered with something that might have been surprise if Death incarnate were capable of such emotions.
Brynn met those lightless black eyes directly. "Should I be?"
"Everyone else is."
Fair point. Morgan had been sobbing. The merchant had confessed his sins. The empty-eyed woman had chosen eternal haunting. Even the noble boy had looked at these Death Lords like they were his executioners.
But Brynn had learned a long time ago that showing fear to predators was the fastest way to become prey.
"Fear seems like a waste of energy," she said. "Besides, you're all going to choose someone anyway. Cowering won't change that."
The other Death Lords had gone quiet, watching this exchange with sudden attention. Lord Caelum looked concerned. Lady Seraphina's eyes had narrowed with interest. Even Lord Vex had stopped examining his nails to pay attention.
But the Reaper's expression didn't shift—just that same cold, unblinking stare from something that had never been human.
Then he descended from his position, shadows flowing around him. The other Death Lords shifted, surprise clear on their faces. Even the officials in the higher seats leaned forward. Whatever was happening, it clearly wasn't standard procedure.
When The Reaper reached the edge of the circle where she stood, the symbols blazing beneath her feet suddenly shifted to something darker.
Black fire edged with the faintest hint of silver light.
The air between them crackled with energy that made everyone else in the amphitheater take an involuntary step backward.
He stopped just outside the circle's boundary. Close enough that she could see her breath misting in the cold radiating from him, that his shadows reached toward her like they wanted to touch before jerking back.
Brynn's muscles locked. Every nerve ending fired the same message: run. Put distance between herself and the apex predator studying her like she'd done something unexpected. Cold sweat slid down her spine. Her hands had gone numb at her sides.
She didn't move.
Couldn't afford to. Not with every Death Lord watching. Not with her life balanced on whatever judgment he was making right now.
So she forced her spine straight. Braced her knees before they could betray her with trembling. And met those lightless eyes, even though looking directly at him felt like staring into an abyss that stared back with hungry interest.
His head tilted fractionally. Shadows wrapped around his form, moving with the patience of something that had eternity to decide whether she was worth the hunt.
Up close, he was even more devastating than from a distance. Those black eyes, the sharp planes of his face, the controlled power in every line of him. Everything that had caught her attention across the amphitheater hit twice as hard at this range.
No. Absolutely not.
But her pulse hammered anyway, and she couldn't tell anymore if it was pure fear or something far more dangerous.
His jaw clenched once. Just a flicker of tension in that perfect, terrible face. Then his eyes darkened, and she knew. Whatever he'd just decided, he wasn't happy about it.
The silence stretched. The amphitheater held its breath. She counted her own heartbeats—one, two, three, each one too fast, too loud—and willed herself not to break eye contact first.
Then his shadows surged forward.
They wrapped around her ankles first, then her wrists, where the chains hung. Testing. The cold sank through her skin, deeper than it should. His power pressed against her, sliding along her spine, her ribs, searching for weakness. For the moment she'd break and give him reason to walk away.
Her skin came alive where the shadows touched. Every defense stripped away, every secret exposed, like being examined down to her soul.
Her breath came shallow. Each inhale was a conscious effort. Her hands trembled now, beyond her control. But she didn't look down, didn't flinch, didn't do anything except hold his stare and pray he couldn't see how badly part of her wanted to run.
And how another part, smaller and infinitely more foolish, was caught by the way he looked at her. Something that widened his eyes for a heartbeat before his expression went cold and flat.
The shadows retreated slowly. They circled her wrists once more before finally releasing her.
He straightened slightly, pulling back. The movement should have brought relief.
It didn't.
Those black eyes remained locked on hers with an intensity that made her skin prickle.
Her heart pounded. Fear she could handle. Fear kept you alive. But this awareness of him as something more than just a threat? This was the kind of distraction that got people killed.
His hand flexed at his side. Once. The only visible crack in that perfect control.
When he finally spoke, his voice was low. Rough. Her pulse jumped before her mind could process the words, something tightening low in her stomach.
"You're mine, thief."
The other Death Lords looked shocked. The officials whispered frantically. Even Lord Caelum had straightened with what looked like concern on his face.
"Brother," Caelum said slowly, his gentle voice strained. "Are you certain? She could find peace in gentler hands."
"She could find strength in mine," Lady Seraphina added, though her tone suggested she wasn't particularly invested in the argument. "The girl has a spine. I could work with that."
The Reaper ignored both of them. He kept studying Brynn's face.
"The choice is made," he said.
His voice held no room for argument. Just made it clear he'd kill anyone who tried to challenge his claim.
Well. That was either the best or worst thing that had ever happened to her.
Guards approached to lead her away. Different guards than the ones who'd brought them here, wearing armor marked with symbols that matched the darkness of his shadows.
Brynn caught fragments of whispered conversation from the officials in the higher seats.
"The Reaper has never claimed anyone before."
"He didn't even attend the last two ceremonies."
"Why would he start now?"
None of it sounded encouraging.
"Move," one of the guards commanded.
Brynn was led to where the five Death Lords stood waiting beside portals that had begun opening in the air.
Each doorway showed a glimpse of the realm beyond.
Caelum's portal revealed gardens where white flowers bloomed in eternal golden hour, while Seraphina's showed training grounds where warriors practiced under a blood-red sky.
The Reaper's portal was a rectangle of darkness. No glimpse of what lay beyond, no hint of the domain that awaited her. Just black that seemed to pull at the edges of her vision.
Perfect. Walk through the door marked "certain death" and hope for the best. Her life choices had always been questionable, but this might be a new low.
"Any last words?" Lord Caelum asked gently.
Brynn looked around the amphitheater one last time. At the officials who'd documented her fate, at the other Death Lords who'd found her unremarkable, at the guards who served laws older than memory.
Then she looked at The Reaper, who waited beside his portal. His black eyes met hers, and for just a second, she could have sworn she saw something shift in that lightless gaze.
Interest, maybe. Or curiosity about this mortal who'd looked Death in the eye and refused to blink.
"I'm harder to kill than I look," Brynn said.
Several of the officials exchanged glances at her boldness. Even Lord Vex looked mildly impressed.
But the Reaper's expression didn't change at all.
"We shall see," he said, and gestured toward the portal.
The crossing felt like being pulled through ice water while someone played discordant music inside her skull.
Reality twisted around her, up and down, losing all meaning as she was dragged from one realm into another.
The ceremonial chains around her wrists grew so cold they burned her skin, and the air she tried to breathe tasted of copper and endings.
Then her feet hit solid ground, and she stumbled forward onto flagstones that crunched softly beneath her. Smooth bone tiles, she realized with a lurch of her stomach. Fitted together like cobblestones.
She was no longer in the mortal realm.
Behind her, the portal snapped closed with a sound like breaking bones, cutting off the last connection to the world she'd known.
Ahead stretched corridors where massive ribs arched overhead, meeting at spines that ran along the ceilings. Bone sconces lined the walls, skeletal hands cupping cold blue flames that cast flickering shadows.
Welcome to the Court of the Forsaken.