Two leather chairs rose smoothly from the obsidian floor, reforming between them.
Death took his seat first.
He settled into the chair, crossing his legs, and lifted one hand in a small, expectant gesture toward the empty seat opposite him.
"Sit."
Rhea pressed her lips into a thin line. She looked at him, then at the chair, before finally seating herself.
"You've heard of other dimensions, I'm sure."
"What do you mean, like The Vengeance squad or something? Like the multiverse?" Rhea asked with a raised brow.
Death tapped a finger against the armrest. "Yes, I suppose you could say it's similar."
"The family I need eliminated exists in a different timeline—one where magic is inherent, royalty reigns, and the world as you know it differs greatly."
Rhea leaned forward, lips parted in awe. "Magic exists?"
"It is the norm, yes," Death responded, his voice dripping with amused curiosity. "And the family I need you to eliminate is one of the three major royal houses in the land that they call "Aurelion."
He paused, letting it sink in. Rhea stared at him blankly. "Magic exists? Like, what kind? I know, I know, I didn't talk about this in my backstory, but I'm a huge fan of Barry Trotter, Abracadabra—one and two, Oh! and The Activity…" She gripped her knees, her eyes shining with excitement.
Death took a slow, deep breath, his voice growing tense. "I am aware, Rhea," he said pointedly. "I know everything about you. But what I need you to do now… is focus."
He lifted his hand. "There are three main houses. Houses One and Two are Reginald and Fitzgerald." He snapped his fingers, and above them, in a shower of starlight, two large, complex castles appeared. He pointed to each in turn.
"And then," he continued, gesturing to the center, "we have Ashworth." A much larger, grander infrastructure materialized between the two. "This is the Crown House. The one favored by luck…" He leaned forward, his presence suddenly oppressive. "And the one I need you to eliminate."
Rhea exhaled loudly, running her hands through her frizzy curls. "So… I'm supposed to take out the head honcho?" She pursed her lips in disbelief. "And how the hell—how am I? How do I even get into their circle?"
"You will already be there," Death said. "As her."
A nearby screen lit up, displaying the image of a brown-skinned woman with warm hazel eyes. Her copper hair was braided in the front—adorned with jewels—and fell in curls down her back. A shy smile played on her lips, her face frozen on the screen.
"This," Death announced, "is Elizabeth Marie Philippa Donazel Fitzgerald."
"Fuck, what a name," Rhea muttered dryly.
Death continued, unaffected. "She is but one year younger than you, at nineteen. And if it isn't obvious… she belongs to House Fitzgerald."
Rhea slowly stood from her chair and walked over to the wall displaying Elizabeth's face. She cocked her head, studying the image, a pang of jealousy tightening in her chest.
She was really beautiful.
"So, if I'm gonna be her… where is she?" Rhea looked back at Death. "Are you gonna disguise me with magic or something?"
He shook his head. "No. You see, Elizabeth has been very ill for the last decade. They've been able to keep her alive—well enough to roam the castle, to learn to eat on her own—but with occasional fainting spells and fevers. And now…" He stood as well, walking over to the wall and touching it with one finger.
The image changed. It showed Elizabeth lying in the grass before her home, gazing up at festival lights in the sky. Her eyes were tired, her chest rising slow and heavy. Her lips were parted and trembling, as if trying to call for help.
"…it is time for me to collect."
Rhea looked at the girl with pity before turning to Death, her expression disappointed. "You waited ten years to kill her? That's a bit of a dick move."
He sighed. "Call it what you wish." He snapped his fingers, and the screen changed once more, showcasing her entire family: the father, the mother, two brothers, and one younger sister. "This is the family you will be a part of, and the body you will be possessing. The firstborn daughter of House Fitzgerald—Lady Elizabeth."
Rhea studied her new family, with an approving nod. "My siblings are hot."
Death sighed again, deeper this time. "Please," he began, "do not attempt to engage in any… dubious behaviors with them."
Rhea opened her mouth, closed it, and pursed her lips in thought. "I will… try not to."
"Right," Death breathed in exasperation. "If you require an outlet for your affections, perhaps you could try wooing the Crown Prince." The screen changed again, displaying a tall, pale young man with shoulder-length dark hair and boyishly handsome features that seemed to say all work, no play.
Rhea looked at him with disdain, then angled her head back toward Death. "Not my type."
"Well, your "type" has changed. Pursue him. Get close to him. Gain his favor. And when you do—" Death leaned down, face-to-face with her, and clenched his hand tightly, his voice dropping to a hiss. "—exterminate him."
Rhea blinked, her eyes wide, staring at her own reflection in the void of his face as she took two slow steps back. "Okay… but can I ask what your beef is with this gu—"
"No," Death said firmly.
Rhea frowned and grumbled in disappointment. "Noted. Damn."
"Him. His sister. His father. One by one, Rhea. I know you can do it.
Rhea looked down at her hands in thought. "So, when I do it…"
"Yes?"
"I'll get what… you…" She rocked slightly on her feet. "…promised?"
"Yes. A new chance at life. I will give it to you."
Rhea nodded, placing her hands on her hips as she mentally prepared herself. "So, anything else I should know? Like his hobbies? Information on the world? Magic? You aren't giving me much to go on, if I'm being honest. You're just sending me out."
"You will not be alone. Aeter and Zahir will be with you." He beckoned the dark spirits forward, and Rhea cringed as they floated toward her. "I don't know how I feel about two hollow-eyed, shadowy figures following me around."
He snapped his fingers, and they transformed into ravens, perched upon his shoulders. "This is the form they will take. They will watch you, report to me, and guide you."
The ravens fluttered over to Rhea's shoulders. She looked between them, nodding with a heavy exhale. "Okay. Zahir and Aeter… Zahir and Aeter—got it. And what about the magic?" she asked, a curious brow raised.
"You do not possess it. Not like the others."
Rhea frowned.
"But you can," he continued. "Elizabeth's fragile spirit placed magic beyond her reach. Your spirit, however, is undeniably strong. It is not outside the realm of possibility." He stated it so casually that a wide, ear-to-ear grin spread across Rhea's lips. She clasped her hands together loudly, making Zahir tense and ruffle his feathers.
"Perhaps it would be best if you learned to use it. There are things in that world a lady must protect herself from." He paused, his tone shifting to finality. "It is time. I am going to switch your souls. Are you ready?"
"Yeah." She furrowed her brows in determination, nodded, and stepped toward the wall. "So, do I just go in—"
Death snatched her hand, pulled her flush against his body. Rhea's eyes widened in shock as he gently cupped her face and leaned in as if for a kiss.
"W-wait, I—" But instead of meeting the cool, mineral surface of his face, she fell inside, tumbling into darkness with a scream.
Pins and needles erupted over her body, intensifying with every jarring impact in the void. She groaned and flinched as muffled words invaded her ears—loud and heavy, as if her eardrums were being stretched wide and sound poured directly into the cavities.
"My lady! My lady, please!" a woman sniffled. "We need the healer! Hurry!" The woman grabbed her again, and Rhea's heavy lids opened, her gaze dazed and blurry. She blinked slowly, and the image cleared: a blotchy, red-faced woman with freckles and red hair, her nose running. "Ah! My lady! She's awake!"
"Ch-chill…" Rhea croaked weakly.
The woman looked at her in renewed worry. "You have a chill? Daniel, bring a blanket!"
A muffled response came from somewhere in the distance.
"Here, I'll keep you warm," the woman cried, pulling Rhea into a tight, crushing hug that set every nerve on fire and stabbed her eardrums like shards of glass.
Rhea cried out, clapping a hand over the woman's mouth and wrenching herself free with a glare as she sat up. The woman gasped, covering her own mouth in shock. "Apologies lady Elizabeth? Are you in pain?" She whispered Frantically.
The boy named Daniel came rushing back just as Rhea's upper body swayed. She collapsed onto her side in the dirt, her vision swimming. Weakly, she looked around, taking in the night sky. Perched in a tree nearby were two ravens, their eyes glinting in the dark.
A weak smile touched her lips. "Z-ahir… A-eter."
She ignored the cries and the sound of heavy footsteps approaching her as the world faded to black.