95: Double Death

First of many. Some will be short coz well, I'm in a rush.

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Amidst the infinite expanse of the void, where time and space dissolved into a swirling tapestry of nothingness, two figures sat as though on thrones of eternity.

Lady Death, clad in flowing, inky-black robes that shimmered with the faint glow of dying stars, leaned lazily against the armrest of her ethereal seat.

Her skull-shaped staff rested at her side, its eye sockets burning faintly with blue flames. Beside her, Morta, the enigmatic Death of the Endless, stood with her usual calm demeanor.

Her dark hair flowed like liquid night, and her pale, serene features seemed carved from moonlight.

Morta's realm was her home, yet Lady Death found herself drawn to the Endless' peculiar hospitality. It wasn't every day that the conceptual embodiments of mortality shared a moment of camaraderie, but the shared nature of their responsibilities forged an odd, albeit unspoken, bond.

They had long since dispelled the competitive tension between them, choosing instead to enjoy their roles with wry amusement.

However, their quiet dominion was disturbed. A ripple passed through their realms, an anomaly that drew their attention instantly.

Both women stiffened, their connection to death itself sensing something they had rarely felt—interference.

Lady Death narrowed her fiery eyes, raising a delicate hand to summon a swirling orb of pale light.

Within its shifting patterns, she observed the threads of countless Kree souls being purified, judged, and dispersed without ever reaching her domain.

"Well, well," Lady Death purred, her voice rich and teasing. "Someone's been busy."

Morta stepped forward, her dark gaze fixed on the same phenomenon. Her composure remained steady, though there was a faint furrow in her brow.

"This isn't normal," Morta said softly, her voice a calming whisper that resonated like a bell. "Souls do not bypass us unless…" She trailed off, understanding dawning on her.

Lady Death tilted her head, her grin widening. "Unless our dear Judge has finally decided to punch the clock. It's about time, wouldn't you say?"

Morta nodded, her fingers brushing the air as she conjured an image of Darius in his golden glory, standing amid the ruins of Hala. The celestial scales of judgement hovered beside him, glowing with the weight of divine authority.

Souls spiraled toward him, bypassing the usual flow of death entirely.

"He's purifying them," Morta observed, her voice holding a tinge of curiosity. "Not simply passing judgement but unmaking their sins, their regrets, their darkness."

Lady Death leaned forward, resting her chin in her hand. "And sending them straight to wherever they belong without so much as a consultation. How terribly efficient. It's almost insulting."

"Not insulting," Morta corrected, her expression softening. "Purposeful. Darius has always had his own role, separate from ours. We tend to the dead as they come, but he determines the weight of their existence. This... purification... is his prerogative."

[A/N: Prerogative-a right or privilege exclusive to a particular individual or class.]

Lady Death rolled her eyes dramatically, though a smirk tugged at her lips. "Still, it's rude not to leave a few scraps. I was starting to enjoy the melodramatic pleas of Kree warlords."

The two women watched as Darius continued his work. They saw him pass judgement over entire swaths of the Kree population, their lives and deeds laid bare before his divine scales.

Some were sent to rest, others to be reshaped into the energy of the cosmos. A select few were unmade entirely, their very existence erased as if they had never been.

"He's thorough," Morta said after a moment. "Too thorough. There's a poetry to death, a rhythm to the cycle. Purging it of its imperfections removes its beauty."

Lady Death laughed, a sharp and musical sound. "Oh, Morta, you're such a romantic. Darius doesn't have time for our theatrics. He's more... utilitarian."

"Perhaps," Morta replied. "But even he cannot escape the weight of what he's doing. Every soul erased is a ripple in the fabric of existence. If he is not careful, the balance could—"

"Shatter?" Lady Death interrupted, waving her hand dismissively. "Please. Darius is the balance. If anyone can keep this messy little multiverse in line, it's him."

Morta turned her gaze inward for a moment, her thoughts drifting to her own fleeting connection with Darius.

Long ago, there had been something between them, a thread of intimacy that had woven itself into the fabric of her being.

But their paths diverged, as was inevitable for beings bound by duty and eternity.

She allowed herself a small, almost imperceptible smile. "He was always reluctant to take on his role fully," she murmured. "To see him embrace it now... it's strange."

Lady Death noticed the wistful tone and smirked knowingly.

"Don't tell me you're still carrying a torch for him, Morta. That's adorable."

Morta didn't reply, her calm expression betraying nothing. Instead, she turned her focus back to the image of Darius, watching as he dispersed the last remnants of Hala's shattered population.

The disturbance faded, the flow of death returning to its usual rhythm. Morta and Lady Death exchanged a glance, their mutual respect unspoken but clear.

"Do you think this is a one-time event?" Lady Death asked, standing and twirling her staff.

"Or is our Judge finally stepping into the spotlight for good?"

Morta considered the question, her gaze distant. "Darius does nothing without reason. If he has chosen now to act, it is because something greater looms on the horizon."

Lady Death sighed, a hint of melodrama in her tone. "I suppose we'll have to wait and see. In the meantime, I'll just enjoy the chaos he's bound to leave in his wake."

As they spoke, the two embodiments of death allowed themselves a rare moment of shared laughter. It was not often that their paths intersected, but when they did, it always left an impression.

"Here's to our dear Judge," Lady Death said with a smirk. "May he keep us entertained."

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Lady Death and Morta's conversation came to an abrupt halt as a ripple tore through the fabric of their domain. A golden radiance, so brilliant that it seemed to outshine even the stars of a dying universe, flooded the dark expanse.

The overwhelming presence that accompanied it was unmistakable.

Darius had arrived.

"Ladies," Darius greeted, his voice resonating like a symphony of creation. His smile was warm, his demeanor as casual as if he were meeting old friends. His gaze first met Morta's, his gold eyes softening.

"Morta," he said, his tone carrying a fondness that seemed to brighten the void.

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