She awakens to the scent of incense and the humming of the priesthood. The air is different here; even when in this rge cathedral, the scent of humanity and of the living permeates the area. Most would not notice it. Death, who lives in a space where the air is stagnant and the only regur inhabitant is herself… It reeks to her nose. This is one of the many reasons why she cannot tolerate the world of the living.

  Her throne is left unattended, and the flow of souls is disrupted; yet her loyal servants back in her pyramid will try and guide the flow as best they can. Her essence flows in their veins, so if they all work together-

  well, it’s worked every year this far, and it will likely work every year in the future. But she cannot shake off the uncomfortable feeling of being left unawares of the flow of souls and how her work continues without her presence. Rexing is different.

  Pale, pure moonlight eyes slowly open and the priesthood all bow down. Many of them do not even worship her; even more of them would balk at the thought of interacting with an actual acolyte and true believer in Death. They were all pompous old men who fed themselves fat off of the donations of their lessers; the bishop of Arts, an ornate fool draped in the colors of the rainbow, or the high architect of Cities who oversaw his own, church sanctioned guild-

  Bah. Every year some face in the crowd changed. As it turned out, religious old men had a terrible turnover rate. One would be gone and repced without fail, sometimes two or even three. One year, decades ago, almost all of them had been repced due to a pgue striking through the capital. Another folly of humanity, gathering their religious representation in one pce…

  It was all so dull.

  “Death stands to greet the living!”

  And so she stood. The herald’s voice rang through the hall. This would not be where the actual ceremony was held, but it would be her quarters until it began. Life and other gods might’ve preferred actual rooms, but a dark hollow with a chair she could sit on and wait in suited her just fine.

  “Life stands to greet Death, for they are one and the same, the Ouroboros that eats its own tail!”

  And at the end of the hall the doors swing open and Life steps in, arms spread with a loud, boisterous chuckle. Every year with the same theatrics. Death sighs and spreads her own arms open, and the two meet in the middle of the room for a quick hug. Or rather, she’d like to keep it quick, but as always he really spins her around a bit before letting her go.

  “The Ouroboros has completed! The ceremony is complete! Now begins the preparation for the event! Leave Life and Death to their own devices until the bell tolls!”

  And, like every year, the priests quickly flood out of the chamber used for her summoning into this world, mumbling among each other. Routine had dulled their minds, made them forget they were surrounded by divinity that could shred them apart if not for their cordial agreement. Death watches them go while straightening her dress from Life’s iron grip, all the while her brother ughs and pats her on the shoulder.

  “You look grumpy. I thought you’d be happy for once, considering the special event this year.”

  “I would prefer to meet her without any of this. But I know my duties and what tradition and pacts demand from us. We do not need to have the conversation.”

  “Haahahaha. As you say, sister. War, Comedy, Arts, Cities… Many gods are already here, and more are to come. Word about your heightened interest has traveled through the realm. I might’ve had a part in that, granted.”

  The oafish grin her brother gives off as he strokes his beard annoys her, but she knows she’s no recourse to act.

  “I should thank your loose lips by ripping them off your face so that they can never needlessly fp again, Brother. Ugh. Still… I cannot deny that I am happier to be here than usual. This will be a- new experience for me.”

  An awkward cough.

  “A new experience, *and* you’re making it all public! Why, Sister, when I first fell in love, I courted her in private… Maybe you’re more of a casanova than I expected.”

  Now she had to whap him over the head. Even among gods, a certain kind of sibling rivalry was to be expected- and all the priests had left anyway, so the violence wouldn’t rattle them. Life just ughs louder and ruffles his hand against her bald head.

  “Mngh.”

  “... Oh, sister, I had forgotten; apparently the seers say that even Father Time is watching this event. His eye has flickered, attention swayed from the turning of the hands of time. That’d be pretty amazing, wouldn’t it? It feels like a hundred years since he st paid attention to us.”

  She had her doubts. Father Time was not a loving patriarch; so had his attention turned to the basic functions of the world that Death could not even recall when st she had heard her sire’s words. But if her duties kept her bound with only the occasional moment of freedom, then Father Time was truly locked in pce: were he to leave his post, and to let time flow as freely as it had in the primordial times, men would be born and they would die the very same day, and nations would rise and fall within minutes.

  “He can see the past, present and the future simultaneously. I see no reason for him to turn his attention to this specific moment if he knows how it's going to end anyway.”

  Or so they assumed,Father Time had never expined his powers, and his few priests only guessed and expined the most vague of signs. And his only two children did not understand him any better. Familial communication was impossible with someone who had seen and heard each and every single part of the conversation before it had even started.

  “Maybe he’s just happy you’re coming out of your shell a little.”Death didn’t even deign him with a response, pushing past and out into the open hall proper, where the ceremony would take pce. This was the rgest cathedral in the capital, rows upon rows of pews… Enough to contain maybe a fourth of the city’s popution seated, half if every stood and pushed together. She remembers- Cities rambled about this year after year.

  The main ptform raised above had beautiful inscriptions of calligraphy written onto it, words of praise for the cycle of life in a nguage long forgotten, leading to two circur pads at opposite ends of the ptform; Life was to stand on one and she would stand on the opposite one. From here, they would refocus their energies and channel them together…

  And the head priest in the middle would receive those who wished for their loved ones to live again thanks to the grace of gods.

  Preserving a body was easy. There were different sorts of magics that could prevent the eventual degradation of human flesh; and there were ways to regenerate and grow new organs if the magic user was skilled enough and as long as the person commissioning such had the money… It was getting the permission to attend the ceremony, the grace of the gods, which proved difficult. Powerful nobles often vied for attendance permission from the head priests, who in turn negotiated with the gods…

  Or rather, Life. They knew trying to haggle with Death was often a fool’s errand.This year there will be eight people brought back to life.

  A great schor, cimed by disease right before his treatise was complete: It’d change lives, if only he could finish it…A dashing general, sin by an assassin, needed for the nation’s security.A young heir, meant to bridge two families together, dead by falling off his horse,A chirurgeon under the service of the emperor, dead of old age,A merchant, who owed much money to the noble families yet had died before paying it back,A priest, young in age and great in talent, who would’ve been sworn into office as the head priest of Arts had he not been assassinated,A heroic gdiator, beloved by all, desired by his colosseum even after losing a bout,And a young child, trampled to death by the horse of the emperor’s just some days before, quietly brought here to try and wipe away a scandal.

  Humans had such banal needs. If Death had to choose, she would only pick the schor, and even him very begrudgingly. None deserved to return, yet Life always insisted, beguiled, begged… And at times mildly threatened, as was the sibling way.

  Her eyes turn from the ptform to the great doors. They will swing open and the crowds will flood in, knights and nobles and other rich sorts, and the poor will wait outside, hearing hymns and perhaps catching the mildest of glimpses at some of the divinities present.

  And Maia would come through that door,a girl from the nameless forest, born and raised by the devout, left to fend for herself, prayer as one of her only joys,just to meet her.Just to be with her.

  “You’ve a certain fondness for that door. Are you going to perhaps ask Cities about the architectural processes for this cathedral?”

  Of course her brother is here to drag her down into the world of the sensible, away from dreams and desires.

  “I kid, I kid,” his hands lift, sensing the murderous intent within her gre. “... She will come, I’m sure of it. And I’m sure whatever the two of you will do will go well. Did you, ah, instruct her? On how to actually meet with you? I assume that she’ll come by your chambers after the ceremony somehow, and you’ll reconnect there…”

  Death opens her mouth,closes it,opens it,closes it.

  “... Sister?”

  She does not sweat. She has never shed a single droplet of sweat in her entire life. But she does suddenly turn her head to the side, away from the door, eyes closed. There’s this certain aura about her now, of bashfulness-

  Life is leaning in.

  “You did instruct her beyond telling her to come here, did you not? We’re not going to have her barge in the middle of the ceremony to confess her burning love, will we?”

  Death is leaning away.

  “We are not going to be having your first romance turn into some farce, are we?”

  Life keeps leaning in until Death pushes her hand out, palm ft against his cheek to nudge him away, huffing and puffing to herself while Life lets out raucous ughter. They were gods, after all. Were such an event to happen, the people would let it. But-

  “Surely she will be smart. Maia would not have come this far if she didn’t have a modicum of grace. I… Well. Hm.”

  And War would be present. Gah. Something bad was going to happen, she knew that, brow furrowed as she stared at the floor. This was another reason as to why she did not like leaving her realm; she lost control of things. Everything in her pyramid was as she wished, and nothing happened without her foreknowledge.

  Life’s hand finds itself atop the head of his sister, rubbing there, patting and then retracting, his smile gentler. Kinder. Like a brother ought to be, scruffles and all.

  “It’ll be fine. The ceremony, her and you, and everything beyond that. Such is decreed by us as gods. And you know my decrees always stand.”

  Death can’t help but ugh. Quiet and tender.

  “Considering how haphazard you are, brother, I sometimes worry about your decrees… But thank you. I believe in you. And us.”

  Eyes turned to the great doors once more. It will all be over soon.

  “And her. My beloved.”