Deidre's Death (Chapter Two, page 1 of 21)


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Past-Death, the original Deidre, felt no different until she stepped into the apartment she visited once before leaving her underworld in the hands of Gabriel. It was then she felt the effect of what Darkyn had done to her.

Her skin was prickling the way it did when another deity used magic around her, the fair hair on her arms standing on end. The colors of the mortal world were brilliant, the light in her bedchamber blinding her. Beneath her feet, the carpet was plush enough to fascinate her as she took a step. It cushioned her bare feet the way she imagined a cloud might.

Her attention shifted as the world around her continued to register. She was … cold. Hungry.

No, starving. It hurt. Had she ever been so hungry? Deities ate for pleasure, not out of need.

She wasn't expecting the intensity of sensations in the human world.

Shivering, she stripped out of the Hell garb and flung it aside to put on some of the clothing she'd chosen. Her soul had been sentient only since she died-dead, about six months ago. Her soul had been planted into the human's head upon birth. Death was required to give up its soul when it ran the underworld. Past-Death didn't remember why exactly, but the rule was that Death could not be a responsible collector of souls if it did not appreciate what it was to have a soul. Without one, she had existed in a state of sentience without feeling, a world of permanent grey.

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