Fear is a wave of cold, penetrating ice.

It spreads through her like a winter storm, crystallizing in her veins and seizing her muscles. Her legs stop moving and her coal black eyes rove over the gaps in the trees, wondering at what the stranger might want. Inside, she feels the darkness stir, angry at her for the weakness she portrays, standing alone and stiff like a cornered rabbit. Why are you afraid, little death girl? You are the mistress of death. You are his righteous right hand, called forth from the womb to reap for him what is his.

She shudders at the familiar croon, a strangled whine building in her throat and releasing a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding.

Then, she sees him - the stranger.

He steps into the path in front of her, peeling away from the shadows like a wraith, his face painted dark against the pale contrast of the rest of him. A slice of moonlight cuts across his muzzle and she wonders at his bleak expression, the way he looks at her as if he knows the darkness of her heart and all the secrets that lurk there. Do you feel it, sweet little death-bringer? For the first time since she can remember, she does not grow irritated with the demon’s sickly sweet cooing.

It grounds her as she stares into the face of death, as she cocks her head to the side and surveys him with quiet curiosity like a child seeing the subject of her dreams come to life. Or perhaps her nightmares, though she can’t quite fathom how he could be a nightmare. He is beautiful and terrifying and she wonders if perhaps he is the angel of death himself, come forth to remind her of her cause.

”What do you want from me,” she questions, her voice softer now than when she’d first arrived in this place, when it had held the gravel of years without use. Her legs don’t feel quite as stiff now as the demons coax the icy fear from her bones and she takes a small step forward, those inquisitive black eyes locked with the stranger’s silver and gold gaze.

That’s right, sweet child. Do not fear death, for you are his chosen.

And so she does not.