I reached out, fingers trembling, feeling a strange pull. The Grim stayed where it was—seemingly miles away now, unmoving—a shadowy silhouette at the edge of the dark, endless corridor.
The door pulsed again, golden light spilling faintly into my palm. For a heartbeat, it felt warm. Then cold. And beneath the whisper of my name, another voice curled like smoke.
“Will you choose, Rowan?”
I glanced up, suddenly aware I was not alone. An ethereal wisp of shadow and smoke sat above the gilded door. Even from where I stood, I could see the faint outline of Her form—the physical embodiment of transition between Life and Death made manifest in Her features.
Half Her face was breathtaking: raven-black hair framing youthful beauty, skin pale as moonlight, one crimson eye that held the warmth of every sunrise. The other half was a polished white skull—clean bone gleaming in the golden light, an empty socket where the second eyeshould have been. The division ran perfectly down the center, as if someone had drawn a line and declared:here ends life, here begins ending.
I knew Her.
“Death,” I said as I raised my hand. “I greet you. Again, it would seem.”
“Enter or fade?”
Her whisper thickened until it wasn’t just in my head but in my bones, thrumming like a second pulse. The golden door pulsed with the unspoken words, light swelling in slow, deliberate breaths. I looked from Her to the door then back. “Death, I do not understand what you ask of me.”
She merely watched while perched atop the door.
I tried another approach. “What is this door?”
“A choice.”
Simple words for a complex situation. I glanced once more at the etched lines, as if staring would reveal the hidden meaning I sought. “Is this a way back home?”
“A way away from me.”
Her words held no malice, but I heard the underlying message. To walk through this door would be to deny Her path. To refuse the finality of it all. “I cannot leave her,” I whispered.
Death’s form spilled onto the floor before me, startling me as Her inky shadows billowed out and filled the space with Her presence. Face to face now, I was unable to determine where I should look—torn between the youthful features on one side and the polished skull on the other. She tilted Her head, soft waves of raven silk spilling across Her crimson eye and empty socket both.
“You escaped my grasp once.”
Her voice was almost curious, soft as the shadows that danced around Her. I pressed my hand to my chest, feeling the silence where my heart should beat. “Da. I did. Once.”
“You seek to escape once more.”
I shook my head. “I would welcome you with open arms, Eternal One.” I hesitated. “But it is not my time. Not yet.”
To think I dare to argue with Death herself.
“What is a shepherd without its flock?”
She asked the question as She began to circle me. I was momentarily reminded of the vampyress before Death’s billowing, glacial shadows curled around me. Is this why Death was often described as frigid? Her very presence may have been cold, but there was warmth in Her words.
“Death is absolute. We are the beginning and the end of all things.”
It was an all too familiar comfort I wish I knew. “I know this to be the truth. But even the Fates have staved off Death when it was meant to be.”
She stopped her circling and stood, scrutinizing me—or so it felt—yet her face remained impassive.
“Even gods, both known and forsaken, yield to Me. Why is it the folly of mortals to flee from the truth of things?”
I didn’t know how to answer that question. I doubted I ever would.
“Enter or fade? Make your choice.”
She turned back to the door and pointed with one pale, skeletal finger.
