CHAPTER 42: HER TRUE NAME

I step out of the room, and there she is—already waiting for me, dressed in something new. OOF. How do I even explain this?

What is that outfit? It looks like someone stitched together a noble’s wedding dress, a knight’s armor, and ten thousand spiderwebs, then stood back and said, "Yes. This will melt 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. Someone, please, slap me back into reality.

"I see you’re well. I forgot to mention—there are some areas in this castle you shouldn’t explore, if you care for your dear life." She says it with a sweet laugh, winking at me before spinning around to show off her outfit. Seriously... how lucky am I?

"Oh, I thought you wouldn’t mind me 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 me as your wife. You should be down on your knees thanking me 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 me 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 meant by that.

"Doesn’t sound very sincere..." She shoots me a glance, and I can see her eyes tremble, as if she’s expecting something from me. 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 me into her cold embrace.

"Death?" Her grip is suffocating—literally. Yet her scent catches me off guard. She smells of fresh flowers, roses most of all, sweet and sharp at the same time. Just a single breath of her is enough to send all the signals rushing to the wrong places... if you know, you know.

"Let me just stay like this a little longer," she whispers softly. I only nod and let myself sink into the moment. I wonder if she drugged me or cast some spell, because I’m enjoying this way too much.

"Also... call me by my name. Always calling me by my title makes it feel like we’re not that close at all."

"You have a name?!" I exclaim, maybe a little too loud.

"Don’t shout... you idiot." She smacks my butt, then pushes me back just enough to glare at me with flushed cheeks. EXCUSE ME!? "Of course I have a name... 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 name is... Amara"

"Amara..." I whisper back. The moment her name leaves my lips, my head whirls violently, the world spinning like a carriage wheel gone mad. My knees give way beneath me, 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 me as I fall, her arms shaking, and a surge of cold power rushes into my body, coiling through me like winter’s breath. It steadies the pain for a moment, but I know I’m slipping away.

My consciousness dims. This time... 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 name shall not be the curse that steals you from me. I renounce it!"

My whole body feels like it’s drained of the last bit of strength. How? How can a single name tear me apart like this? Shit... I will not give up. I want to live! I can’t die!

And then, the world freezes. Sound and time collapse, and for the first time, 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 name Amara." Her voice resounds everywhere at once—inside me, above me, 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.

"Home..." I mutter, taking in the crooked beams and the reek of spilled ale. But then it hits me...

"Amara!" I panic, bolting upright, scanning the room. She’s gone. My chest seizes, grief crashing into me 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 time in my life, I feel what true joy is. My chest loosens, a weight lifts, and a shaky sigh escapes me.

She’s alive...