The chamber was immense.
Colossal pillars of black stone stretched into shadows above, each etched with runes that pulsed faintly as though alive. A pale, cold light emanated from nowhere and everywhere, illuminating countless faces but neither fully human nor fully spirit.
The Council had gathered.
She had heard whispers before. Tales of the Death Realm's ruling body: ancient, relentless, impartial. And yet, their impartiality carried a weight more terrifying than their judgement itself. They did not merely enforce rules; they decided fates.
And her fate, it seemed, had already drawn their ire.
Death stood beside her, silent, his posture rigid. His presence alone caused the sea of eyes to flinch, but he did not speak. She felt the weight of every gaze in the room pressing down on her, measuring, calculating, and judging.
At the front of the chamber, a figure rose. Pale hair, sharper than blades, eyes like frozen lakes. The Head of the Council. His voice echoed, a low, resonant timbre that vibrated against the walls.
"Death has brought a mortal into our realm," he began. "A violation of the First Decree. A soul unprepared for eternity. And yet he dares to call her… his consort."
A murmur rippled through the chamber.
"Consort?" a voice hissed from the far side. "That is forbidden."
The mortal bride stepped forward instinctively, chin high despite the chill crawling up her spine. Her wrist glowed faintly beneath the chain, a subtle signal of the bond that tied her to the God of Death.
"I do not ask for consent," she said. "I do not seek your judgement. I am here because he chose me, not because I defied your rules."
A shadow flickered among the council, narrowing eyes. "Bold…," one whispered. "Too bold for a mortal…. ha ha ha…"
Death's hand rested lightly at her back. Not restraining her, merely present. He had warned her that the Council would not bend. And yet, his proximity gave her courage she did not know she possessed.
The Head of the Council's gaze sharpened. "Then you admit to the bond?"
"Yes," she said, voice firm.
"That alone," he said, "is reason enough for judgement."
Another member rose, a female figure draped in robes that shimmered with the light of lost souls. Her eyes were sharp and narrow. She pointed directly at Maria.
"You will be severed," she said. "Your soul returned to the mortal realm or it will be erased entirely. The balance must be maintained. Death cannot favour the living."
The room erupted in murmurs.
"Do you not see?" Death said, his voice like gravel rolling over stone. "She is bound to me. Not by whim, but by fate older than this realm."
Fury flashed across the council's faces.
"A fate that defies law," the female councilor said, stepping forward. Her gaze lingered on the mortal woman, sizing her like prey. "This mortal is not fit to endure eternity. The bond is unnatural. It weakens him."
Death's jaw tightened. The silver of his eyes darkened. "She does not weaken me. She strengthens me. And I will not allow her to be harmed."
A hush fell across the chamber. Even the whispers paused.
The Head of the Council's face remained impassive. "Then we will see," he said. "The trial begins."
The Attempted Separation
Suddenly, hands of shadow shot from the floor. Not solid, but brimming with intent. They wrapped around her arms and legs, pulling, twisting, attempting to drag her toward a large sigil etched into the stone floor.
"No!" she screamed and pleased, struggling against the invisible grip.
Death moved instantly. A single step forward and the shadows recoiled violently, as if struck by a tempest. He grasped her wrist and held it.
"Do not resist alone," he said, voice low and dangerous.
The shadows regrouped, forming darker, larger figures with hollow eyes and gaping mouths, whispering ancient incantations that clawed at her mind. Fear surged and pain flared along the chain. The bond between them quivered.
Her fingers gripped Death's robes. "It hurts!"
"I know," he murmured. "Endure. You are stronger than they believe."
Pain lanced through her again. The chain glowed so bright it burned the air around them. Her vision blurred. Yet, somehow, she held on, clinging to him, to his presence, to the warmth beneath his cold exterior.
A councilor stepped forward, chanting. The shadows converged, a wave of force meant to separate the bond.
"Release her," Death commanded immediately.
The shadows faltered for a heartbeat.
Then surged again.
Death's hand clenched the chain, then his other hand rose, palm outward. A wave of silver energy erupted from him, striking the shadows with a force that made the chamber quake.
But it was not enough. The chain flickered violently, writhing as if the bond itself was screaming.
Maria gasped, tears threatening to spill. "I can't…"
"You can," Death said sharply, his face inches from hers. "Because I am with you. Always will."
Her eyes met his. In that instant, all the fear and the pain, the terror of being torn away, melted into something raw and dangerous need.
He was not just a god. He was her protector, and her tether to a world she never wanted to leave, and yet could not survive without.
Her breath hitched. "I… I don't want to be alone," she whispered.
"Then you won't be," he said, silver eyes blazing. "Even if they try to kill you."
The shadows screamed, the councilor's voices rose in anger, and yet the bond endured.
Jealousy Among the Dead
From the back of the chamber, movement caught her eye.
A figure of a woman stepped forward. Not one of the council, but someone older, more refined, exuding an aura that pressed against Death like a memory that would not fade.
"Your consort?" she said softly, almost mockingly. "The mortal?…hmm.."
Death stiffened. The first time she had seen him falter.
"Yes," he said with a low voice. "And she will remain."
The woman's lips curved in a slow, knowing smile. "You have forgotten me, then. Once, I was the one bound to you. Once, I walked at your side as your chosen."
Her stomach dropped. A chill raced through her veins. She had sensed it before another presence in the Death Realm, one who did not welcome her intrusion but seeing it now, hearing the possessiveness in her tone, made her pulse quicken.
Death's hand tightened around hers. "You are not here," he said. "And you are not welcome either."
The woman laughed softly, the sound sharp like glass. "Yet she is mortal. You cannot help but cling."
Her heart twisted. Mortals? Cling? She felt both invisible and intrusively real all at once.
"Do not test me!" Death said. The first crack of authority, a thunder rolling quietly under his voice.
The figure stepped back, shadows swirling around her like a cloak. "We shall see how long she lasts though."
The warning was clear: this was not merely a council trial. This was a test of dominance, of possession, of whether a god could resist the jealousy of eternity itself.
Aftermath
The chamber fell silent once more.
The shadows retreated. The chain around her wrist dimmed, pulsing gently instead of violently.
She sagged against Death's chest. His presence was overwhelming. Every fiber of her body ached with the need to reach for him, and yet fear and caution pulled her back.
"You are mine," he said quietly, brushing a loose strand of hair from her face. "No one will take you from me."
Maria's pulse raced, mixing fear, desire, and awe. "I… I don't know if I should be glad or terrified," she murmured.
He smiled faintly, dangerous and tender all at once. "You should be both. That is the truth of being mine."
Her chest tightened. "I cannot even imagine what that means."
He leaned closer. His silver eyes softened, but the heat behind them was unmistakable. "You will learn," he whispered. "And soon, you will not wish to leave."
A bell tolled in the distance. Thirteen times. Fourteen. Fifteen.
Somewhere in the vast, endless Death Realm, the trial had ended for now.
But she knew, deep in her bones, that this was only the beginning.
And she would not survive the next challenge without him.