A/N: This is a collab-fic that we two best friends are writing together! Thank you, and we hope you enjoy!

~Us

Prologue:

Ancient Greece, 641 B.C.

The man was tied and shackled to the wooden post in the center of a field of lush, ripe maize. Hanging like a scarecrow, he had been left for dead. His motionless outline in the distance made him seem as if he already was. Villagers would return to their small makeshift houses and complain to their wives about the smell that supposedly could contaminate the harvest. But no one dared to approach the man for fear of the incompletion of his punishment, and of the wrath of the gods.

The man hung limp – still. His sweat was a clear coat over his tanned, dark skin from hours upon hours under sun. Blood dripped down his arms from the tightly bound ropes that bit into his wrists. Though, dazed and beyond feeling the effects of starvation, he didn't feel the pain. Physically, he only felt numb.

The real turmoil was within him. The man was angry. He had not been paid what was due to him and he fought for it, which immediately resulted in punishment by death. But it would be a lie to say he hadn't seen it coming. The man knew of what his stubbornness was capable – capable of challenging the gods themselves.

The man sighed, a long painful breath of air that escaped his lungs so quickly that if he hadn't been held up by ropes, he would have fallen over. He curled his fingers – hearing them crack and snap back into place – around his bonds and his heels dug into the soil below him with a sudden force he didn't know he could muster. Taking in a slow, deep breath, lungs protesting by pushing against his slowing heart, he pulled up against his chains and screamed like a savage at the boiling sun overhead.

Crows and other devious little creatures were startled, cawing and scurrying up and away from the wild man that currently thrashed against the wooden post. Left and right, he shook the makeshift cross, rattled his chains and yelled profanities at no one in particular yet at everyone simultaneously.

All of the fuss and noise he made, while comforting, drained him all of his energy, and of all the life he had left. With one final yell of dissention, he fell defeated, hanging limply by only the chains that held him up. Unable to sit nor fully stand, the man could only weep.

His final moments would be spent this way, tears mixing with the blood and sweat that freely moved about his face. What was once a muscular body, now a sickly quivering carcass of a man destined to fight but instead…

The man wanted to die. He had wanted to die all of his life – but dear gods, why did it have to be alone?

Shimmering golden eyes followed the weeping man as he shook and swayed from his wooden post.

A voice. "Why do you weep?"

The man's sobs cracked and came to a sudden halt. He lifted up his bowed head in search for the source of the voice. He hadn't heard a voice besides his own in weeks.

"I am not familiar with the purpose of such an act," It continued.

The man blinked his own emerald irises in confusion. Had he gone insane? He said, "Who's there?" But his hoarse voice was barely audible to even himself. It hurt his throat to speak.

A reply. "Death."

A sob escaped the man without permission. Disgusted with himself, he said, "I've waited for you all of my life. But now," He swallowed, is voice continuing as a whisper. "But now, I don't want you here. I am not finished."

A chuckle. "I am fully aware of your unfinished business with the world, Brytos. Which is why I've come to you now, and not a few moments from now where you surely would have been dead."

The man scoffed, an action that was conveyed fully with the motion of his entire body, and said, "Come for me at dusk. By then, my body would be empty of my spirit and open to house yours, demon."

"I am no demon. I am Death."

"They are one and the same," he said breathlessly.

"If I were in fact a demon, you would have been dead by now—unforgiving creatures they are."

"But I am going to die today. Therefore, you are no different," He replied expressionlessly, already accepting his fate.

At that, the unseen taker of life laughed. "Well, I hereby give you a choice," Death purred.

"I have had enough of you gods and your trickery," He sighed, tired of how the gods never ceased to toy with his mortality.

Death continued on as if the man hadn't said a word. "Nothing holds me against breathing in your fragile life and letting your body hang as it does here for the rest of eternity, to provide sustenance for the crows." Their squawking endless as Brytos coughed up blood. "I would, in fact, favor taking your existence at this very moment. It is your time, after all."

"Well, then, why don't you?" Brytos retorted, almost challengingly. His set glare slightly faltered, allowing Death to see what he already knew about the man.

"You look down on others, but what they don't see is that every time you do, you're looking down on yourself; hiding your vulnerability behind a persona of snide arrogance."

"Is that why you are here, then?" He interrupted – the things being said were much too close to the truth that constantly tormented him, "To point out how weak I really am? Well, I already know that! And frankly, I'd rather you just take me now, than force me to live through your mantra for another second."

A pause.

"You do not deserve to die," Death mused. "Not exactly."

"Not that I do not thoroughly enjoy you speaking in circles, but if I do not exactly deserve to die, why are you here? Unless your other name is Life, I do not see the point."

"I am here by duty, not by choice. You, however, do have another choice. That is, if dying right now does not sit well with you." Death's golden eyes sparkled, excited.

Brytos' eyebrows knitted together in confusion. If he wasn't going to live, and if he wasn't going to die, then what was left for him to do?

"Your life has been lived differently from others that carry your same outward demeanor. Your purity is hidden away and locked deep within you. A purity with such potential that it is worthy of even the gods. Because of this, I shall choose life for you, so that your 'unfinished business with the world' will never be done."

"Life–?" Brytos was interrupted.

"A life that begins with the end of your mortality, honest Brytos," Death said finally, bowing his head at the broken man that still hung confined to his wooden post, and disappeared.

Darkness enveloped Brytos almost immediately. His ache and fatigue were gone. He no longer struggled for breath because there was no air to inhale - no lungs to pursue it with. All there was, was his conscience's awareness that here he was, in this Nowhere. He had once again been made into a form of amusement to the gods, because surely he was now dead.

He vaguely spied a shimmer of gold floating in his peripheral, chalking it up to tricks being played by what was left of his mind. Except...there was another, and then another, until soon the accumulating specks of gold dust began swallowing the pure black once drowning the man. One by one, surrounding his body, his vision, his soul, he felt the golden light become a part of him. He felt the sting of every bad thing that had happened in his life, all at once - all the times others wished he were dead, all the times he wished he were dead. The excruciating pain surged through his entire being, and it was welcomed, heightening the purity of the warm, gold light that awed him. He felt drained by the hurt, yet incredibly empowered by the radiating heat that was now him.

He had been wrong for he was not dead. Although, he was not exactly alive, either.

~/~

Brytos, god of light, desire, and internal purity.

A/N: We hope you enjoyed this! Please don't forget to review, even if all you want to send us is one word, please we implore you to do so.

~Us