Since that last one took so long, here's another one to make up for it. It's a bit short, but only because the next chapter is going to be very long. But this answers the nagging question: Where is Eva?
Disclaimer: Money will be accepted on a donation basis to a Starving College Student Fund. But I am making no money off of this. No copyright infringement is intended. Harry Potter and Co. belongs to J.K. Rowling, and I am not her. You should know all this by now.
Chapter 34
Lucifer smiled widely and stretched, feeling the unfamiliar muscles as they contracted and relaxed in sequence to move as he desired. It had been so long since he had a bodily form that he had forgotten exactly what it was like. Admittedly this body wasn't in perfect shape, nor was it very handsome. All right, so it was downright ugly.
But the magical protection running through it more than made up for these minor discrepancies. Besides, Lucifer thought as he raised his arms above his head and arched his back like a cat, for once he didn't have to rely on charm or looks to get what he wanted. Now he could take it with brute force.
Somewhere deep inside he felt the tattered remains of the creature known as Voldemort clamoring for attention, flush with anger and betrayal. Apparently he didn't like the alterations the Master had made to their deal. Lucifer ignored him, swatting the presence away like a small bug buzzing his ear.
Licking his lips, he surveyed the decimated clearing, now full of burnt earth and drained bodies of Death Eaters. He found the whole scene delicious, the air sweet with blood and fire and betrayal. That's what you get when you put your trust in the untrustworthy, and expect faithfulness from the original betrayer.
He chuckled, relishing the harsh sound of glass on glass over rusty metal that rent the air. He could imagine Death's reaction when she realized just how powerful he had become away from her. No longer was he subject to her whims; now he could take on all the Guardians, and make himself Master of all.
All his years of exile, of bitterness and conniving and plotting and sneaking and subjugation, were all finally going to bear fruit. He was tired of sneaking around like a thief in the night, nipping at the heels but never able to strike the final blow. Now he would ride in as a conqueror, for all to see and despair at his coming. All realms would tremble at his name, enslaved or crushed at his will.
Amid these grandiose plans, he felt a little niggle of strange power. Ah yes, one last troublesome mortal to take care of. Lucifer was especially pleased at the havoc his talisman had wrought on the young man – he hadn't been certain on whether its properties would work on mortals.
But it had performed better than he had planned. Without that talisman setting him on a certain path, this whole situation would have never come about, and Lucifer would still be stuck in that crappy realm the Guardians had exiled him to, watching from afar.
Kicking aside the bodies of a couple of Death Eaters, Lucifer stalked into the forest heading for the distant ruin that was Hogwarts. Time to remove Harry Potter from this world, permanently.
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Night had fallen, so deep and dark that Harry could barely see his staff in front of him. All day dust and ash had been falling, coating him with a layer of grime and filth that let him blend to near invisibility against the blasted foundations of Hogwarts.
The explosion had torn deep into the dungeons, completely obliterating all inhabited levels and caving in the deeper areas. The result was a cairn of rubble that began nearly 30 meters below ground level, but due to the persistent smoke and darkness Harry couldn't be exactly sure of what was down there.
He was ensconced within a pile of stones that might have once been part of Gryffindor Tower, judging by the few tattered cloth remains that hung like dead leaves. Only an hour before he had finally managed to repair his staff. While slowly using Elemental magic to mesh the broken areas together again, he was reminded of the vows he had taken the first time he built it, pledging his life to remove the Darkness from the Earth.
He certainly meant that now; the ice in his chest was a constant reminder of his bargain with Death. The time was drawing near, he could feel it. While his leg had been healing, he could sense the Darkness gathering in one nexus, focused in on one being.
When the ritual climaxed, Lucifer completely possessing Voldemort, Harry had felt such pain in his scar that he had never felt before. His brain itself ached from the overload, scrambling his reality in a jumble of misfiring neurons. He wasn't sure whether he had blacked out or not, but it hardly mattered as all of his senses had taken quite a while to come back online to full function.
Even now with his mental shields firmly in place he could still feel the tongues of bitter cold fire ravishing just at the edges of his consciousness. Harry suppressed a sigh, knowing he'd only end up choking on foul air. He was as ready as he would ever be. It was time to finish this once and for all.
Staring into the blackness around him, he briefly considered conjuring some light. This reminded him too much of the cupboard: the dark, the cold, the uncomfortable surroundings, the pain and loneliness and doubt. Shivering, he tried to push the memories back, and his fingers closed around the staff, itching to create a fire to drive it away, at least temporarily.
He stopped himself just in time; a light would only draw unwanted attention at this point, and besides, he needed to save his energy for a more important task. Speaking of energy, his stomach rumbled, reminding him that he hadn't eaten since . . . when? Dinner the night before? It seemed a lifetime ago.
Shifting against the stone, trying to get comfortable, Harry recalled the butterbeer at the Three Broomsticks, Zonko's enthusiastic energy and sharp wit, Madame Rosmerta stirring the fire to bathe them in warmth. From there his mind wandered back to memories of the Gryffindor Common Room, the blazing fire the house elves kept going during the coldest months and at night, sitting doing homework with Ron and Hermione by its light.
Closing his eyes, he let himself remember all the good times at Hogwarts, and his adventures with his friends. Certain things stuck out in his memory, little snapshots of his life that seemed more real than his current surroundings.
Ron's boisterous laugh, full and hearty and alive, as essential to him and his person as his hair, as he told stories of his family life.
Hermione scribbling furiously with a quill in her tiny handwriting, studying everything she could for the simple pleasure of learning.
Ginny's smiling face looking angelically innocent when she had a mischievous streak wider than Fred and George and a wickedly fast hex.
The infamous duo proudly showing their wares to unsuspecting students while exchanging grins in secret twin communication, linked at some intrinsic level.
Neville in first year, looking scared but determined to do what was right, and later rewarded for it in front of the whole school.
Remus smiling at him proudly after the Ravenclaw Quidditch match in third year, when he first cast his Patronus successfully.
Sirius grinning wildly after the ride on the Black Shadow, looking young and healthy and alive like the Marauder used to be.
Dumbledore in his office after the Chamber of Secrets, eyes twinkling with pride and relief.
Eva . . .
Eva smiling with fierce pride during his training; joking with him and laughing at his blushes; clinging to him and yelling with joy as they first tested out his motorcycle; scolding him fondly after the France incident, hands soothing his wounds; that dream of her holding him close to share body heat on the roof, lips soft and so tempting . . .
The mere thought of her filled him with warmth, even as he wondered gloomily where she was. He hadn't seen her since August, not counting the half-remembered dream, and with their failed mental connection he missed her so much it ached. The sheer depth of his loneliness surprised him.
He had missed Ron and Hermione while he was training, and he missed Sirius and Ginny and Dumbledore and Fred and George every day. But this feeling was different, a sort of longing, a yearning for her presence in his life. It confused him, yet on some level he understood perfectly.
Weird that he should think of her now, when he was so close to death.
Closer than he thought, he suddenly realized as he snapped out of his reverie, eyes popping open to strain against the darkness. Lucifer was close, very close if the burning in his body and mind was any indication. It was time.
Harry clambered to his feet and left his stone shelter, still limping slightly. Through the black air he caught a faint hint of light, a reddish glow like coals under a log, and approached with caution. Ash was falling thick as snow, and he could feel it settling in his hair, on his skin and clothes, catching in his nose and mouth to form bitter mud on his tongue.
With shocking abruptness a figure materialized through the haze, the eerie red glow lighting them both, coming from a set of blazing crimson snake eyes. Harry bit back an involuntary curse at the sight of his nemesis. Voldemort was paler than ever, skin albino white yet contradictorily in his senses appearing dark as space. Harry's brain ached trying to resolve the sight before him with the Darkness he felt.
There were other subtle changes about him, taken in peripherally, but overall the sight confirmed that this was Voldemort no longer. Harry stood face to face with the Prince of Darkness, Lucifer himself.
The creature smiled, a jumbled mix of rotting teeth and gleaming fangs gnashing together with the movement, and in the faint glow they shone blood red. Harry's stomach rolled. Forget the expected witty banter and traditional good vs. evil taunts. Harry only had one chance to do this.
He whipped his staff out and around, planting it firmly in the scorched earth with one sharp thrust. Summoning all his power and calling the Elements to him, he fed it into the ice in his chest, then directed the whole combination down through the staff.
Wind kicked up around them, gusting and swirling around in the ash and dust, scouring them both raw. Thunder rumbled overhead as lightning flashed, and from somewhere came the threatening sound of rushing water. The earth trembled at their feet, then with a great cracking and tearing a chasm opened behind the creature.
The rocky sides pulsed with a fiery glow from deep within and below, and muted screams echoed and rang. Dimly Harry saw some demon corpses falling from the edges, tumbling down and bouncing with wet thuds from the rocks. The air shimmered with barely contained magic, as the chasm did not lead down into the earth, but across time and space to another realm entirely.
Death's Playground.
Those inhuman crimson eyes spun back to meet Harry's piercing emerald ones, and for an instant time froze with dawning understanding.
Then Harry dove forward. Legs propelling him into his enemy shoulder first, his arms wrapped around him, and their momentum carried them back, back, right to the edge before launching into the abyss.
As he tumbled over the edge, clawed hands tearing at his back and head frantically, Harry heard one last shout from a beloved voice, the one person he wished to see most desperately.
Eva screamed out in despair, "HARRY!!! NOOO!!!"
As soon as they were through, the chasm slammed shut with a thunderous roar, the earth rippling in reaction to the forces unleashed and tearing up the ground even further. The ruins of Hogwarts collapsed further, stones pounded down into gravel and dust. Trees toppled and crumbled, their impact sending up more clouds of dust and ash into the polluted sky.
Eventually it calmed, the silence common to a graveyard perpetuated by a muffler of black snow covering the land.
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Silence.
Considering they were stuck in a cave with so many people, the complete lack of sound was unnerving.
The survivors huddled together in clumps around faint points of wandlight, searching for something to give them hope, something to brighten the darkness suffocating them. But there was nothing that could escape the truth of the bodies lying at the back of the cave. Especially the one with messy black hair.
The remaining Weasleys sat across from Ron's body, their strength in numbers severely diminished. Remus was curled up in a corner, lost in an ocean of despair and pain from his actions during the battle and the loss of his last connection to the Marauders.
It didn't help that Hermione sat between the bodies of Ron and Harry, rocking herself in silence. After the inhuman scream she had let out when Snape had brought Harry back, she hadn't made a noise.
In the oppressive atmosphere, most couldn't help but feel that this was a mourning for all of them. They knew that they had very little chance of surviving the night, and they could do nothing to stop it. The bodies seemed to whisper in the dark, "As we are, you soon shall be."
Safely ensconced in the shadows, Snape breathed out an inaudible sigh. He didn't want to remain here; it was unproductive, and an idiot's folly.
But at the same time, there was nowhere to go. There was nowhere to run, nowhere to hide, and when the fight and inevitable slaughter came, this was as good a place as any. He wasn't ready to resign himself to death, even though most the others seemed to already have done so. But he didn't see any other option.
He looked at the corpse of Harry Potter and his customary sneer curled his lips. He should have known from the beginning that his grudging respect was misplaced. The stupid boy had to go and get himself killed in a fight he had provoked, and now damned them all. He decided there weren't enough languages to curse him with adequately.
Snape was looking right at the body when, impossibly, it abruptly dissolved into nothingness.
He started, eyes trying to discern what trick the boy was pulling now, but the only indication of anything different was Hermione, who stopped rocking herself and simply stared with empty eyes at the now bare stone. Snape narrowed his eyes, an uncomfortable feeling prickling at his neck that had nothing to do with the gathering darkness outside.
Careful not to make any sudden movements, he detached himself from the shadows and stalked over to the line of bodies. He had just knelt down next to Hermione when a groan caught his attention, and he jerked his head around to track the source.
To his utter astonishment, the Weasley boy was stirring, head lolling to one side as he coughed and sucked in some deep breaths, the bruise discoloration fading quickly to healthy skin tone. That was impossible. Simply impossible.
"What the hell?" Snape muttered, but was suddenly shoved aside as Molly Weasley dashed to her son's side, desperate hope shining through her tears as she enveloped him in her arms.
Everyone watched, dumbfounded, as Ron weakly pushed against his mother's embrace, mumbling, "Gerroff Mum, you're smothering me." As Molly released him, sobbing with joy, he reached over to Hermione, who was staring at him in a daze. "Hermione?" he called softly, and again when she didn't respond. Finally she shook her head in confusion and looked down at the empty stone floor next to her.
When she looked up again, she rubbed her eyes, looked again, and then with a small smile leaned into Ron's arms. "Ron?" she asked with a little girl's voice. He cradled her and nodded, pressing a light kiss to her hair. She sighed and relaxed, murmuring, "I had such a bad dream."
Soon they wasn't the only ones to watch, as the other dead bodies also blinked and coughed and stretched and sat up. The cave echoed with voices, some confused and questioning, others nearly incoherent with joy. Snape backed away slowly, searching for some sanity in this impossibility.
The heads of Weasley red seemed to have multiplied, but as they were huddled in a tight circle he couldn't actually tell. A glimpse of white hair drew his eyes, but he quickly turned away, trying to convince himself that Dumbledore couldn't be standing there talking with McGonagall.
That was impossible. Simply impossible.
It looked as if there were a lot more people in here than there was only two minutes ago. Still backing away, heading back to the shadows that would give him some perspective on this slide into cloud cuckoo land, Snape bumped into someone behind him. That person barked out, "Hey, watch where you're going."
Snape's eyes widened and he spun. That voice, that utterly and horribly familiar voice, was impossible. Simply impossible. But when he had completed his 180 spin of reality, he found himself face to face with a grinning Sirius Black.
The dead man's eyes twinkled with mischief, and he smiled broadly displaying all his teeth like the Cheshire Cat (which was kind of odd, considering he was a canine Animagus). Snape stood there, staring stupidly with jaw hanging open.
He had to be hallucinating. Maybe he was wounded worse than he thought, and the pain was playing tricks on his mind. No, he was dead. That was it, Snape had died and been consigned to his own personal hell. For all this was simply too impossible to be real.
Sirius leaned in closer, still with that impossibly insane smile, and said, "Boo."
That was too much.
Snape's eyes rolled back in his head as he keeled over backwards in a dead faint. Right before he gave into the comforting darkness, he heard another even more impossible voice say laughing, "Congratulations Padfoot. You finally managed to kill him."
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Screaming . . .
Falling . . .
Struggling . . .
Choking . . .
Burning . . .
Blinding . . .
Freezing . . .
Plummeting . . .
Spinning . . .
Melting . . .
Screaming . . .
Grappling . . .
Burning . . .
Falling . . .
Falling . . .
A violent jerk suddenly redirected his falling trajectory, and in the distance Lucifer's shrieking faded quickly as a wisp of cloud. A nauseating spin/twirl/loop combo, and Harry landed hard on his back on hard-packed ground cushioned with feathery grass.
Shaking with reaction, he managed to pry his eyes open only to watch the sky shift in a kaleidoscope of colors he was certain were not natural part of the atmosphere. Rubbing his eyes and tentatively shaking his head, the sky overhead settled back to its normal blue/white/gold.
Harry sighed and relaxed back into the grass. It was done, and he had made it back over the rainbow.
Just as before, he heard approaching footsteps echoing under his head, and sat up quickly. This time, it was not the Weasley twins. In fact, nobody was in sight that had been there before. The plain was completely empty of mortals. Instead Lady Death was walking towards him, her face more open than he had ever seen . . . was that a smile?
Reaching him, she held out a hand and helped him to his feet, and this close to her he could tell something about her was . . . off. It wasn't just the smile. He movements, usually so calm and controlled, were now slightly quickened and jerky, her hands nearly trembling. She was . . . excited?
Harry narrowed his eyes at her unseen, suspecting that she was hiding something. She apparently didn't notice, or chose not to, when he cautiously took a step back. Death looked him over with an appraising air, then clapped both her hands on his shoulders.
"Well done young phoenix. You have succeeded, and our deal is finalized. Come now." She spun on her heel and walked briskly back towards her city, and after a moment Harry followed. He was slightly disoriented by the sudden turn of events, and the realization of the permanence of his actions. "Um . . ." he suddenly felt incredibly awkward, but he had to ask, "um . . . where are the others? My family and friends?"
Death waved her hand negligently. "They are where they are supposed to be." Harry frowned and increased his pace until he was striding beside her. "What does that mean? Where are they?"
"I told you, where they are supposed to be." He sucked in a breath as realization slapped him upside the head. "I thought you said you couldn't do that." Death only replied, "In order for our deal to be consummated, symmetry must be kept." Seeing he was about to pry further for explanation, Death sighed.
"I did not have the power to send you back by myself. As I gave you a portion of me, I took in return a portion of you. In doing so, I had to fulfill the objective the power was directed toward set by the intention under which it was taken. I sent you back, and I sent back all those who did not belong."
Harry nearly tripped over his own feet in his shock. "You mean . . . Ron, Sirius, Ginny . . . all of them . . . they're alive?" he choked out in a half-whisper. Death chuckled with a familiar lilt, despite the fact that he had never heard her laugh before.
"They are where they are supposed to be. Now hurry." She sped up, leading him deep into the city as they wound through the alleys between imposing stone structures. Harry stared intently at the silver hair streaming in her wake, as if trying to pierce through it to the brain and thoughts and motivations beneath.
So intently in fact, that he wasn't paying attention to their journey, and when Death stopped abruptly he plowed right into her, nearly sending them both sprawling. Spitting out a bit of silver hair, he backed off sheepishly to see Fate glaring at him from over Death's shoulder.
He had never seen her before, but knew that it could only be Lady Luck herself, as the dice in her hand were quite conspicuous rolling and clacking against each other. Fate turned her blackish-red eyes from him to Death and bit out, "What have you done?"
Death actually rolled her eyes. "Do not start that again," she warned with a trace of irritation. "I am not in the mood to deal with you right now." She took a step forward, but Fate planted herself in their way and glowered, which Death matched equally. "Fine. State your business and leave."
Fate's eyes were shifting towards totally red, reminding Harry of Voldemort, and eventually she said in a tight voice, "We have called the Council together. You will stand before them and explain your actions leading to this . . . this . . ." Apparently the proper descriptor failed her, so she gestured furiously at Harry to indicate precisely what she was talking about.
Harry felt a flush of anger burn his cheeks and neck, but now Fate was ignoring him as she addressed Death. "I doubt you understand the severity of your . . . deviations." Death sniffed. "I know the consequences. I believe it is you who do not understand exactly what I have done."
Fate's lip twitched. "One of the Shamak'la will fetch you when we're ready." She shot a malevolent glare at Harry as she added with cold bitterness, "In the meantime, I hope you enjoy your new toy. After all, you worked so hard to get him." She took a couple steps back. "Hope he was worth it." With an inhaled pop, she was gone.
Death blew out a quick breath, then reached back to grab Harry's hand and grip it rather possessively. She led him to a solid black door, which vanished upon her approach, revealing an opulent room straight out of the finest hotel in the world. Now completely off-balance by the sudden environmental change, Harry stopped dead in his tracks, his hand slipping from Death's hold.
She gestured him towards the sofa, and he tottered over on numb legs to sink into the plush cushions. Death remained standing in front of him, and they remained silent for a long time, both lost in thought. Finally Harry demanded, "What's going on? And none of your cryptic doubletalk bullshit."
Death nodded once. "Very well. The Council is being assembled for the first time in many star ages. The other Guardians want me to be accountable for my recent actions pertaining to you, and they want to know why I have violated my code. You will stand with me before them."
Harry started to protest, but Death held up a hand to forestall him. "You cannot understand just now. I assure you things will become clear at my trial." "Trial?" He didn't like the sound of that, but she nodded with calm acceptance.
Any further dialogue was cut off by the arrival of a humanoid being of shimmering silver, who announced in a deep slow voice like thunder, "Death, your presence is required before the Council." Death nodded to the Shamak'la, and as Harry got to his feet the being disappeared.
Death waved her hand, and the air shimmered and sparkled before a hole appeared and widened to the size of a double doorway. It stretched and rippled as the hole became a tunnel, spilling honey-colored light at their feet.
Grabbing Harry yet again, Death marched through with her head held high, dragging the unfortunate mortal along with her to the City of the Guardians.
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Eva screamed, an outpouring of hate and anger and grief and despair all made vocal as she completely trashed the kitchen.
Plates went flying to shatter on walls and floor, glasses erupted in showers of broken glass, and cutlery scattered everywhere, the knives sticking into the walls. Next went the doors of the cupboards, wood crumbling to splinters on impact. Countertops cracked, and with a shriek the refrigerator was thrown into the dining room, food and all, freezer spilling out ice cubes everywhere.
The food was the last victim to her wrath, packages torn and contents strewn about in a great mess that squished and crackled and crushed and slid under her feet. The last glass bottle tottered on the edge, then slowly fell to shatter in a spray of liquid. After that, the house was silent except for her ragged breaths.
Completely spent, Eva made her way out into the living room where she collapsed on the sofa, face buried in her hands and trying not to cry.
She had lost him. Forever.
Why had she come back here, knowing that the whole place held nothing but memories of him? Memories that made her feel things she knew she shouldn't, but couldn't help any more than she could help breathing. Her heart ached, making each indrawn breath hurt.
It was all Fate's fault, the meddling bitch. If only she could have gotten here faster. When Eva had learned what had happened and was going to happen, she had tried to go to Harry, to help him, to stop him.
But Fate had blocked her, smiling viciously with piercing blue eyes as Eva railed at her and fought the barrier. It wasn't her place to interfere, she had been informed in a smug tone.
Eventually Eva broke through the obstacle and appeared as fast as she could to Harry's side. But it was too late. She got there in time to see him fall, the magic swirling around him and snatching him far away. Her screams hadn't changed anything, for he was still lost to her.
Unable to stay on the battleground, she had come here, to Harry's house.
Eva gasped for breath, fighting against the despair and loneliness surrounding her. Harry was gone, she wasn't allowed to interact with any more mortals, the Guardians didn't like her, and no other realms needed her. Never in her life had she been like this, not even in her former position a lifetime ago, before . . .
Distantly she felt the call of the Guardians, a faint but insistent tug that no longer had anything to do with her, and sat up with a start. They were calling the Council together. They were to judge one of their own, something that hadn't happened since she herself was a Guardian.
That could only mean one thing.
Eva stood, wiping away the few tears that had snuck out and streaked her face. She may not be wanted, but she had to go. She had to see and hear for herself, to find out what could possibly happen now. Maybe she would even get to plead her own case before them, now that circumstances had changed.
With a deep breath, Eva crossed the barriers between realms and appeared in the ancient City of the Guardians, feeling the call thrumming through her like the magic that permeated the air. Sneaking around through the shadows, she made her way to the Council Chamber, a round building made of pure transparent gold.
Most of the Guardians were already there, with their personal Shamak'la gathered around their masters and the others grouped around the walls, watching and murmuring. Eva kept to the shadows behind the last line of Shamak'la, glancing around carefully, taking stock of the situation and noting where everyone was.
Nature already sat in her chair, leaning over to speak quietly to Time, who nodded slightly and muttered something back. Love walked in, this time in the image of a matronly grandmother with white hair, and Eva shrank back a bit more to avoid her. Of all the Guardians, Love was her best ally and worst enemy.
Water came through the doors and announced in a deep voice, "Death is coming." All the Guardians took their seats in the semicircle, facing towards the doors where the accused would emerge. Eva eyed the single empty seat at the far left end, right next to Chaos.
The specific Shamak'la settled on the floor in front of their Guardians, while the unspecific settled in ranks on the floor, leaving an aisle from the door to the chairs and a space up front for the accused to stand. All was still, eyes locked on the huge double doors.
When at last they finally opened, Eva had to stifle a gasp. Death strode in, proud and haughty and unafraid, boots clicking on the marble floor. Behind her walked Harry, who in contrast to Death's formal appearance, was still dirty and sweaty from his battles, clothes torn and ragged. He seemed so small and childlike now in this place, hiding in Death's shadow, eyes darting about in mixed wonder and suspicion.
Death stopped before the Council of Guardians, meeting their eyes defiantly with her silver gaze, and for a minute there was silence. Then Nature stood, her hair rippling as water on a lake, and announced in her voice of wind, "Death, you have been summoned before this Council to call into account your actions pertaining to the mortal realm of Sei'fiah, known generally in the mortal tongue as Earth."
Time rose next, his body young but his eyes and wisdom old. In a slow inexorable voice he said, "You will explain why you have purposely violated the Code of the Guardians, acting against the mandate set before you ere this universe was created."
Destiny stood, midnight hair brushing back over her shoulders as silk ribbons. "Finally, you must justify your actions pertaining to this mortal," she gestured towards Harry, "and why you went directly against the order decreed by both myself and my sister Fate."
The three sat back down, regarding Death solemnly while the Shamak'la watched attentively. Eva settled herself comfortably, allowing a small smile to grace her lips. This looked to be quite intriguing, not matter what happened.
Death arched an eyebrow, a slow smirk creeping across her lips. "Let the Inquisition begin."