The last grain of sand slipped from my fingers.
For a moment it clung to my skin, stubborn and weightless, before surrendering to gravity. I watched it fall, a tiny, drifting speck against the darkness. It struck the wet stone without a sound, vanishing so completely it was as if the ground had inhaled it, drawing it down into the sheen of rainwater and swallowing it whole.
For a heartbeat, nothing happened. I wondered if the bargain had been a cruel joke, a trick played by Death itself.
Then, without warning, the rain stopped completely. The heavy downpour from moments ago was gone, leaving the air eerily quiet. Drops no longer hit the stone. The sound of water disappeared, leaving only the faint rustle of leaves in the night wind. The wet ground, once slick and shiny, began to dry quickly, the puddles shrinking until they were almost gone. Even my jacket, wet just moments ago, was now dry, the sleeves were warm against my arms, the fabric light and clean.
I repeated the words again, making sure they were loud enough this time: "I know what I want, and I'm ready to ask for it"
A chill ran through me, sharp enough to steal my breath. My skin prickled, and every instinct screamed that something was wrong. The city felt empty, like a stage abandoned in the middle of a scene.
The streetlights flickered once. Their light stretched into long, twisted shadows. Too long, too wrong, reaching farther than they should.
And then the shadows moved.
Then, suddenly, they shifted aside, peeling back like a curtain to reveal what stood behind them.
Who stood behind them.
One moment the space in front of me was empty. The next, it wasn't.
He stood only a few steps away, tall, motionless, as if he had always been there and I had simply failed to notice.
He looked… newly awakened.His hair was tousled, white strands falling into his eyes. His coat draped loosely over his shoulders, one sleeve crooked, the collar uneven, as if he hadn't bothered straightening a thing. His shirt hung half‑buttoned, revealing just enough of his sculpted chest to catch the light, which was an unexpected sight, especially after the lean figure I remembered from our first encounter.
"You woke me up," he said.
His voice was flat. Almost tired.
I raised an eyebrow. "I didn't know Death slept."
He tilted his head, red eyes catching what little lamplight remained. "Of course you didn't," he replied dryly, a faint thread of amusement slipping through.
I crossed my arms. "Well, now I do. Makes you a lot less terrifying, honestly. You look like someone who needs coffee."
My eyes started at his hair, pale and messy, catching the faint light. I traced the line of his jaw, the curve of his neck, almost without thinking. My gaze drifted lower, over the slope of his shoulders, down his chest, drawn by something I didn't expect to see.
That's when I noticed it, a thin, dark mark curling along his skin. I froze, staring, trying to figure out what it could be. A scar? A tattoo? Some kind of ink… or magic? I couldn't tell.
He smirked faintly, clearly thinking I was looking at his muscled chest. "If you want, I can unbutton the rest so you can see it properly."
I glared at him, sharp and pointed, letting him know I wasn't impressed.
Then my eyes drifted back down, and I caught sight of it again. The dark mark disappeared beneath the fabric just as quickly as it had appeared.
"What is that?" I asked, pointing at the mark. "The one that keeps disappearing."
His expression changed immediately, subtle, but enough to notice. Shadows at his back stilled, his usual casual laziness gone. "You can see it?" he said flatly, voice quiet, almost careful.
"Of course I can see it," I said. "It's not exactly subtle. Why does it keep disappearing and reappearing?"
He let the pause stretch, just long enough to make me shift uncomfortably. Then, almost teasing, he said,"It's none of your business. Not something meant for mortal eyes."
I rolled my eyes. "I apologize, Your Highness," I said bowing sarcastically "Curiosity clearly doesn't suit someone of my lowly mortal status"
"Curiosity can be dangerous," he said, calm as ever, shadows curling tighter around him.
I tilted my head. "Oh really? Are you going to take my life because of that ugly little mark that i pointed out Mr Souleater?"
He didn't answer right away.He just looked at me. Not amused. Not teasing. His expression shifted into something still and deliberate, like the moment before a door closes. Somehow, that was worse than any threat.
Yes. The answer settled between us without a word.
My breath caught before I could stop it.
Then, just as easily, the weight vanished. He straightened, voice returning to that calm, infuriating steadiness."Your necklace broke, which can only mean you're ready to make that wish," he said, his tone smooth and certain.
I tilted my head. "Wait… how does this bargain thing work?"
He lifted an eyebrow, red eyes glinting faintly. "That bargain thing is done by blood," he said, calm, almost casual. "And we can't make it here. Not on mortal streets. "
I staggered back a step, eyes wide. "By blood? You mean literally?"
He tilted his head, red eyes glinting faintly. "That surprises you," he said, voice calm, almost teasing. "And yet the fact that you're standing here, in front of someone who takes life for a living doesn't seem to faze you at all."
I blinked at him, still catching my breath. "That's because right now, you look more dead than anything else," I said, tilting my head. His hair was messy, his eyes tired, and there was something exhausted about him that made him seem almost human.
He smirked faintly, a dangerous glint returning to his eyes. "Try not sleeping for five days straight," he said, voice low, teasing. "Then we'll see how beautiful you look."
I raised an eyebrow, trying not to shiver. "And then what?"
"We'll have to go to my castle," he said smoothly, the shadows around him shifting with him.
I frowned. "Your castle? Do you mean your church?"
He shook his head, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. "Nope. The church is just the entrance. What humans see as a church is really the door to my castle, in the Underworld. That's where the bargains are actually made. And since blood magic doesn't work in human world we will have to go to the underworld to make that deal"
A cold knot of unease settled in my stomach. Up until now, I'd felt a mix of curiosity and disbelief, but the moment he said Underworld, that confidence wavered. This wasn't just a walk down some dark alley.
Trusting someone like him should have been impossible. And yet… I couldn't even trust my own family. If I couldn't rely on them, then what else did I have left?
I took a steadying breath. "Alright," I said, trying to keep my voice even, "where is this castle of yours?"
He gave me a faint, knowing smile. "We won't be walking there," he said. His tone was smooth, measured, almost like he were explaining something mundane. "We'll pass through as the ancients would say."
I blinked. "Pass through?"
He tilted his head, red eyes catching the flicker of the streetlight. "Yes. You'll need to hold my hand. Only then can I transfer both of us there"
I hesitated, my fingers brushing against his. The thought of literally being carried into the Underworld sent a shiver down my spine. But I had no choice.
Slowly, I reached out and took his hand.
It was cold, almost icy, but there was a strange pulse I felt in my chest and a tickle in my head.
He gave a faint nod. "Good. Hold on."
I felt a sudden tug, a sharp pull through the air, and the world around me blurred. The streets, the familiar lamplights, they all stretched, twisted, and vanished. My stomach lurched as if falling, then settled just as quickly.
When the motion stopped, I opened my eyes. The church doorway stood before me, just as before but something was off. It wasn't next to my old tavern anymore. It wasn't even in the city.
The ground beneath me sloped upward, rocky and uneven, like the edge of a mountain. The city lay far below, tiny lights twinkling in the distance. Mist curled along the uneven stones, and the air smelled colder here, sharper.
Death let go of my hand and started walking up the stairs leading to the doorway. "
I froze for a moment, caught between hesitation and curiosity.
He glanced over his shoulder, that faint, knowing smirk on his lips. "Going to stand there all day, or are you coming?"
This time, we weren't in his study. We were in the great hall, the lower floor. Red roses were scattered everywhere, spilling over tables and along the edges of the room. The chandelier above was lit this time, casting warm light that glinted off polished stone.
At the far end stood a massive black door, completely shut. Its surface seemed to swallow the light completely.
He stopped in front of it. Slowly, he spoke a string of words in an ancient tongue. The air seemed to hum with them.
The door creaked then swung open in a single, smooth motion.
I blinked. "What did you just say?"
He replied, his voice calm and almost bored. "That? Just a little pretty please"
I rolled my eyes and fell into step behind him.
We started walking, the sound of our footsteps echoing softly on the marble.
As we moved forward, I began to notice the bridge itself. It was harsh and unwelcoming, with jagged black stones jutting up like broken mountain peaks. The polished marble beneath our feet gleamed in the torchlight, and the flickering flames cast long, twisting shadows along the sides.
We walked, and the air seemed to grow colder with every step, like the warmth was being sucked out of the world around us. My skin prickled and started feeling oddly dry, as if the very air were pulling moisture straight from me.
"Can't you at least give me your coat? You don't even need it," I said.
Without a word, he shrugged off his jacket and it landed squarely on my face.
How nice of him, I thought, rolling my eyes as I peeled it off.
I shrugged it on, and oddly enough, it smelled nice. Not that I'd ever admit it aloud.
He must love cherries, since his coat smelled like mint chocolate ice cream with cherries on top.
We were in the middle of the bridge when I started hearing it, faint at first, then growing louder.
Whimpering, sobs, strange scraping and choking noises. Almost like someone was being tortured.
I bent slightly, tempted to look over the edge, to see what horrors lay below.
"Don't," he said sharply, his voice low but steady. "If you want to sleep at night, don't look down."
I froze, heart thudding. The sounds were almost hypnotic, drawing me closer, but I forced my gaze forward, trying to ignore the cold chill crawling up my spine.
"What was that?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper. "Are those… people?"
He didn't answer. Not even a glance. He just kept walking, as if he hadn't heard me at all.
The noises below twisted and writhed with the shadows, and my stomach sank. Whatever it was, it wasn't meant for mortal eyes.
We finally reached the end of the bridge. Ahead of us stretched a narrow alley, its walls dark and jagged like the edges of the bridge.
At the end of the alley, a fountain bubbled quietly, its water clear and strangely still.
Above it loomed a statue, wings stretched wide and a hood pulled over its face, hiding any expression. I couldn't see much of it, but its presence made the air feel heavier, colder, almost alive.
Next to the fountain sat two golden goblets, gleaming in the torchlight, etched with intricate, shifting patterns. And beside them, a small, sharp golden needle that caught the light like it had a purpose far more dangerous than its size suggested.
Death bent down and picked up the two golden goblets, holding them carefully. The metal was smooth and cold, and the patterns along the rims caught the torchlight. He dipped them into the fountain, letting the clear, still water fill each one to the brim.
"This is enchanted water," he said, his voice calm and steady.
Without a pause, he picked up the small golden needle. He pricked his finger, letting a single drop of black blood fall into one of the goblets.
The water darkened instantly. It swirled and deepened until the entire goblet was black, as if it had swallowed all the light.
I watched in silence, my heart racing.
Then he held out the needle toward me, his red eyes calm and unblinking.
Your turn, the gesture said clearly, though he didn't speak a word.
I stared at it, my stomach tightening.
I took a shaky breath and picked up the needle. My fingers trembled slightly as I held it. I pricked my finger, letting a drop of blood fall into the goblet.
The moment it hit the water, it glimmered bright red for an instant just like his eyes before spreading and fading, leaving the liquid perfectly clear.
The goblet itself transformed too, the gold fading into smooth, transparent glass that caught the torchlight.
He watched closely, his calm voice carrying the slightest hint of surprise. "Interesting," he said.
I stared at the transformed glass in my hand, my heart still racing. "Now what?" I asked, trying to keep my voice steady.
He tilted his head, red eyes fixed on me. "Now you tell me what you desire, little mortal," he said, his tone calm but sharp, carrying the weight of authority. "And I will tell you the price of that wish."
He nodded once, unblinking, then added, his tone even and deliberate, "Then you will drink the goblet filled with my blood, and I will drink the one filled with yours."
He leaned slightly closer, his red eyes sharp and unblinking. "Now tell me, little mortal," he said, his voice calm but carrying weight, "what does your broken heart desire the most?"
I swallowed, my hands trembling slightly as I clutched the goblet. What do I really want? The question weighed heavily, and my chest tightened. My thoughts raced, memories of loss and longing flooding me.
Finally, I whispered, " I want to see my mother again."
He tilted his head, studying me with an unreadable expression. "Are you sure that's what you want?" His tone was calm, almost teasing. "Don't you want something more practical? Wealth, or a proper home, considering what happened with your previous one?"
I froze. "How do you know about that?" I asked, my voice sharp with surprise.
He didn't flinch. "I know everything," he said evenly. "Do I have to remind you? I know everything about every living thing."
I took a steadying breath, meeting his gaze. "I'm sure. I want to see my mother again."
For a long moment, he simply watched me, then extended the goblet toward me. "Very well," he said, his voice smooth and deliberate. "Drink from the goblet, and your wish may be yours."
I hesitated, my hands trembling slightly as the weight of the goblet pressed down on me. My heart raced, every instinct screaming caution.
Finally, with a slow, steadying breath, I lifted it to my lips. The liquid was warm as it touched my tongue, at first bitter, sharp, like an unripe fruit that made my stomach twist.
Then, almost instantly, the taste shifted. Sweetness bloomed across my tongue, cold and bright like a scoop of sorbet, sour at the edges, with a lingering hint of delicate sugar. It was strange, impossible, and intoxicating all at once.
I swallowed, shivering as the warmth and chill flowed through me, leaving a buzzing, alive sensation in my chest. The ritual had begun, and there was no turning back now.
He watched me swallow, his red eyes steady and unblinking. The hall felt even heavier than before and somehow colder, like the air itself had grown thick around us.
"The price for that wish…" he said.
But instead of continuing, his eyes moved over me slowly, thoughtfully.
The look made my stomach tighten. There was nothing openly threatening in his expression. Something about it felt deeply, unmistakably wrong.
The pause stretched.
Then he finished, his voice as calm as ever.
"…is your soul."
My hands froze, clutching the goblet tighter. My chest tightened, and my stomach flipped. I hadn't expected it to be... My soul? I could feel it just thinking about it, a strange weight pressing down inside me.
He didn't give me a chance to protest. Slowly, he lifted the goblet, the one filled with my blood and drank it in one smooth motion.
Almost immediately after he drank, something inside me started to shift. A strange, heavy pressure pressed down from my chest, and my legs began to wobble beneath me. I stumbled slightly, clutching the goblet for support, but it didn't help.
My vision blurred. A tightness gripped my throat, making it feel impossible to draw a full breath. Panic clawed at me, but I couldn't speak, couldn't even think clearly. The edges of the hall seemed to darken, shadows stretching and twisting in ways I couldn't follow.
Bit by bit, consciousness slipped away. The weight inside me grew, filling my mind until it was nothing but black. I felt myself collapsing, the world vanishing, my body giving out beneath me.
And then I was falling, into nothing, into silence, into a darkness that swelled me whole.