Chapter 22
The following morning War was dressed in his most formal attire. Today, the realm will commemorate his three years as ruler of the white city and the angels. A lot has changed in those three years. He made sure of that. The people weren't all favorable of him ruling so War had to be a tough king. He didn't have the crown because of Death, but that didn't stop him from ruling the realm with an iron fist. People feared him then loved him like they did the previous lords.
His personal servants dressed him in red garbs and he wore a replacement crown that the lords before him wore when they misplaced the real ones. On this day, he would be showered in gifts from the people, be entertained, danced and end the day with a fireworks display.
Instinct told War Death was near, (Still no pun intended…) he ordered security to be tighter than ever. Every mile into the city, there was a stop where the visitors would be checked for anything unusual or anyone resembling Death. To no avail, they didn't find anyone so War was able to relax.
The only thing he regretted about this day was that Fury wasn't with him. She would have been Lady-his lady. He treasured the ground she walked on. He sent her love letters, poems and gifts and she rejected it all because she was in love with another-the previous Lord of the white city, Death. For such a betrayal, he had to make her pay by turning her into a hawk, but oh, if his plan of killing Death as a tiger succeeds, nothing will stop him from capturing Fury, removing the spell from her and making her his queen. He hadn't heard from Absalom in a while, but figured it was because he was still looking for Death. (And he found it.)
A knock at the door and a demon servant entered, telling War it was time to begin. The soldiers and guards marched into the throne room in groups of two with War walking in last.
Strife had escaped back into the capital through the hole he left. He crawled through it and found another tunnel leading to the cell he used to be in. Strife poked his head through and crawled out under the cot. No one was in the prison cells and there weren't any guards. They must have all been killed already. He crawled from under the bed and picked the lock to his cell and walked out. He looked around and saw no one in the halls.
He casually walked through the dungeon and found his way to the throne room. He saw a line of people waiting to enter the room. Strife stood at the end and waited along with them. Outside at an inn Death looked out the window and watched people in the streets. He was home after three years. He has returned to reclaim what was rightfully his-his title as Lord of the white city and the death of War by his hands.
Clouds covered the sky in a blanket of gray darkness. The Crow father was watching the sky with a smile. Yes, it was going to happen today. He saw Death keeping himself hidden in the shadows, the hawk on his shoulder.
"It's going to happen soon, Death, once the clouds break."
"Its day Crow father, like it was yesterday, like it will be tomorrow. Nothing special will happen today, except War's death."
"But you can't kill War." The Crow father argued.
"If you kill him, the curse will continue. A chance like this will never happen again." Death nodded.
"You're right." He went to the saddle bag and pulled out a small knife.
"If Strife had done his job, I will be in the capital and should I fail…the warning bells…I…" He was having difficulty with his words.
"…beg you to take her life. Make it quick and painless."
"But, Death, I can't do that to her!" The Crow father started to protest.
"Fury wouldn't want to continue a half-life. It would be punishment to do so. Please do this for me, old man." He handed the hawk to the Crow father.
"But Death! Have you ever stopped to consider this is what was meant to be all along?"