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 hauntingover 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 evenentirely 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."
