Once again she’d brought Maia here. She knew she was deeper within the building, and that she’d find her way here faster now that she knew the yout and where she was. Within just a few moments she’d step into the garden and see Death there, seated and sipping on a cup of nostalgia. So she had to collect herself and shape up into that very image-

  because right now, Death was a nervous wreck. She didn’t often show emotion, but her face was drooped, figure hunched, fingers twitching as they kneaded together in deep thought. The moment Shadows had reported to her that Maia and her escort were captured by harpies and delivered to the top of some mountain, she’d considered descending down herself and merely killing everyone present, but-

  no, she- she couldn’t. Well, she could, it’d just cause a sudden tear in the fabric of reality and likely warp the environment in major ways.

  It was not the responsible thing to do. And what was Death if not responsible, calcuted and inevitable? So she could not. No, no no no. And killing them from a distance here was impossible, she couldn’t weave the energies right, she’d probably end up killing Maia too, or at least her old companion. And while she had little to no care for the old goat, she knew Maia found comfort and protection in his presence, so she’d be full of hate.

  Maybe she could instruct Shadows to kill them all and to take Maia to safety? That could work. But since they’d only sent a shard of themselves with her, the shadow could only do so much, especially as it was stuck to Maia’s perimeter. It could kill harpies with ease, but only in a radius around her, and if they noticed what was going on they’d just kill her anyway… Ugh. Unwinnable. This was unwinnable. Or so her addled, nervous mind decreed.

  The cup of nostalgia steamed in her palms, but she found no joy in taking a sip. Usually she enjoyed the flow of old memories and sweet nothings, but they brought her nothing but dread in this moment. Would she be sipping upon Maia’s nostalgia soon enough?

  Her attempts to recollect herself failed utterly, and eventually Maia stepped into the same rotting, eternally dying garden she’d been to once before. At least Death wouldn’t be the only one disheveled; Maia looked even worse, eyes sunken and red. She’d likely been crying in her sleep before Death yanked her here. Shadows had told her the basics:

  After being taken out of the house, the harpies had cornered her and Homer. The old man thought of fighting, but gave in when a harpy stepped up and spoke in a nguage that Homer and Maia could understand. If they surrendered, they’d live for now… So, they took the deal. From there they’d been separated into two cages and that’s when Death had swooped Maia’s mind away, leaving her body sleeping within the cage.

  “Why’d you bring me here now?”

  Maia’s words struck like a sh even when her tone was merely tired and afraid: like she was questioning the validity of everything. What use did being here bring her in her darkest hour? Death had no solid answers, the grip on her cup of nostalgia tightening as her pure white eyes look elsewhere, anywhere but her worshipper.

  “Did my prayers not reach? I prayed and prayed as they carried us away, prayed that you’d save me and Homer, prayed that you’d whisk us away, prayed that… That…”

  Maia speaks as she walks and then sits, staring intensely at Death with the sort of pleading that crushes her heart and makes her whole being quake from the inside whenever she does softly gnce back to Maia- which makes her look away again.

  “And do what? Kill everything on the mountain to save you? I can’t- Well, I could, but the consequences would be massive, I can’t just whisk my hand and kill a mountain’s worth of harpies for you!”No matter how much I want to. She wants to say that, but she can’t bring herself to. The words catch in her throat.

  Whatever Maia thinks of the answer isn’t clear, and an awkward silence reigns between worshipper and god for some time. Death would want to extend ptitudes about how being here should give Maia a breather, but her body is still stuck in a cage, and she’ll feel exhausted when she gets back anyway.

  She just-she wanted to see her. Make sure she is alive and well. She should’ve thought this through more.

  “Maybe I never should’ve left to see you.”Like a bde right through her spinal cord, tearing apart everything that holds her.“I should’ve just stayed home, accepting your blessing as what it was, withering away until I was nothing but skin and bone. Maybe that’s the lot I should’ve taken…”

  Death suddenly reaches over and pces her hands on Maia’s thin, frail shoulders. She can’t remember the st time she’d touched anyone but Life, and even those touches were scarce. This was direct contact, fingers digging deep into Maia’s burp sack of a robe to keep her still, staring directly into her soul with such burning intensity.

  “Do not speak of dying alone and forgotten within my presence ever again.”

  Such a funny thing for a god who cherished the thought of dying more than anything to say.

  “It all has meaning. None of it is meaningless. Nothing has made me happier in my whole long existence than learning that you were traveling to meet me. I… I will admit, I’ve been going through throes of figuring out exactly what this means to me, what *you* mean to me…”

  And what sort of an answer and what sort of succor she can even provide for when they meet face to face truly, physically, in a way that means more than just this.

  “But it means something. So please, don’t despair. This is all a setback, yes, and you’re in danger, yes, but you will be fine. You will be alive. I forbid you from dying yet. It’s not your time.”

  Death was not a motivational speaker nor was she a speaker in general, but she hoped that words right from the heart would do something to calm Maia down. She knew she offered no solutions, no salvation, merely a vague promise of things being alright somehow. But- but someone had to say it to her. Someone-... No, she had to say it herself.

  Unfortunately, Maia still shivers like a leaf under her grip, and Death’s fingers slowly let go of her to see if that calms her. Unfortunately, all pulling those little plugs does is finally let the stream out.

  “Not *my* time!? It’s not just about me! My journey isn’t just about me anymore! Homer wouldn’t be in this mess if I hadn’t gotten him to help me! He’d have- he’d have traveled alone, safer! What about him?! Will he be fine, will he be alive?! This is just as much his journey as it is mine! You- I… I understand you’ve your concerns for me in specific, of course, but… He’s my friend, and I… I don’t want him to die, I don’t want anyone to die, I just…”

  And Maia colpses into sobs, face buried in her hands. But it only sts for a short moment, an emotional outburst of ten or so seconds, and when her gaze lifts again…

  There’s determination in there.

  “I just want to save us both.”

  In her voice too. A determination born from foolishness, from reaching a mental limit, from having no other way out besides sheer, foolish belief… Seeing her favorite mortal in such a state should inspire dread in her. She’d get herself into trouble like that- but instead, she feels oddly relieved. Tears gone, repced by something deeper. Something more primal.

  Humans are truly bizarre.

  “And how are you going to save yourself and your guardian?”

  There’s a little bit of doubt in Death’s voice, but she doesn’t sound like the comforting parent she did earlier. An equal moreso.

  “I don’t know yet, but I’ll figure it out. I’m tired of just… Just sitting and watching things happen to me. I need to do something myself. And I want to try and solve this without anyone dying. On any side.”

  Death could see Maia’s stalwart gaze linger on her own hands for a moment, trembling before calming. She must be thinking about her newfound power over death; ah. Now she understands. She’s so resolute so that she doesn’t slip. If her mind wavers and she lets fear overtake her, she might kill some of the harpies or even Homer himself.

  … Maybe it’s time she embraces this sort of feeling too. This hope. And maybe she ought to be honest too.

  “I might have a way for you and Homer to leave your cages.”

  Death idly rubs her thumbs against the cup of nostalgia in her hands, swallowing. Revealing the existence of Shadows was risky- after all, she would be admitting to outright spying on Maia like this- but it would help her greatly if she was truly aware of her shadowy assistant.

  “Your shadow is actually inhabited by an envoy of mine… Shadows.”

  She need not snap her fingers nor direct any further- one second the space behind her is empty, the next her shadowy progeny is leaning over Death’s shoulder and bowing their featureless head to Maia in a respectful greeting.

  She can tell Maia is putting in an effort to be better, since instead of yelping and jumping on the spot she merely flinches slightly. Any worshipper of Death knows of her direct retion to Shadows, so there won’t be any awkward introductions on that front.

  “I live to serve. I’ve merely sent a shard of myself as to not arm you or your companion, but the shadow should be able to operate wherever you cast it. I wish I could’ve helped during your actual capture, but the sources of light were dubious… Projecting myself proved to be difficult. Especially when your companion ended up squishing you right against the wall.”

  The expnation likely wasn’t needed, but Shadows was a duty bound being. Whenever they failed, they had to report the failure so that they could aptly better themselves ter.

  “It should be able to open your cell doors. If not normally, then by force. The shadow has enough power that it could likely punch a hole through one of those harpies, assuming they wore no armor. From there, the two of you can ponder some form of escape. I wish I could provide more.”

  Maia seems to have accepted their presence by now, maybe already somewhat aware that Death had sent some sort of liaison for her; if she was displeased, she didn’t mention it yet. Now was not the time.

  “I don’t pn on us escaping. I want to take Homer with me and find their leader so that I can apologize.”

  “Apologize-?”Like a parrot, Death is aghast.

  “Are you insane?! What can you apologize for?! The harpies were the ones who attacked you, may I remind you!”

  “And they were attacked by us! By humans! Something’s happened so long ago I don’t think either side remembers! And- and… Certainly, it’s not my fault or my duty to solve the problem, but I… I killed one of them, and buried them in a way most undignified…”

  Maia’s resolve fres again.

  “I need to apologize for what I’ve done, and I need to face whatever comes from that apology. I just want to do it on my own terms, without a cage. And I want to set Homer free, so he can leave to continue his journey without me if he wishes. Those are my earnest, true wishes.”

  A deep, shaking breath makes her quake like a leaf in the wind, but her stem sticks- she does not snap and fly off with the wind.

  “What am I to do with you.”Death sighs and slumps in her chair, pcing the cup of nostalgia down on the small table. Still, she smiles. Tension leaves her body.

  “Besides to wish you good luck and to offer you my most heartfelt support and well wishes, my brave pilgrim. I’ll release you from this dream, and spend my time praying-”

  a pause. and then a long, tired ugh.

  “Isn’t it funny? Praying. Me praying for you. I think if the other gods heard me say such a thing they’d be so aghast.” Death reaches out and pats Maia on the head once, then twice.

  “Safe journeys, little pilgrim.”

  And in a single moment, Maia disappears from view, seemingly about to say something just as she goes. Death is left alone with Shadows, staring off into the distance with a truly content smile on her face.

  “Mortals are so bizarre, aren’t they?”

  “Indeed, my dy.”