Blessed Death on one side, Cursed Death on the other.
Next to me, Rali hugged his twin’s body, sobbing. Just past us, Warcry fought like a demon, holding off the Bailiff’s reinforcements by himself, while the Bailiff laughed and taunted him.
I sat on my heels in the grass, staring down both barrels of Ten, ready to pull one of the triggers and make my choice.
The Two Paths of Ten
I HIT MY FEET WITH both fists clenched, necrotic skin and ligament and bone crackling with the movement. I sent off a blast of Mass Grave, painstakingly avoiding Rali, Warcry, and Kest’s body, even though it wouldn’t matter to her anymore.
The reinforcements fighting Warcry dropped dead. The Bailiff’s eyebrows disappeared up under his greasy hair, looking at the ring of Death that had passed through him as it swallowed his backup.
I didn’t stop there.
Like a ripple in a pond, Mass Grave kept flowing outward. The life points swarming the ruins and the Technol encampment went out. The Shogun put up a fight, but I got him and Muta’i and the rest of the OSS and Jianjiao, along with every one of the Technols and camp followers in their hidden jungle city. A quarter mile upriver, I caught the sniper who’d taken out Sanya-ketsu.
With broken, ragged breaths, I sucked down the Miasma of hundreds of lives.
It was too much to contain. So much more than my Spirit sea could handle. A scream tore its way out of my throat. Tendons stood out from my muscles, on the verge of snapping. My bones creaked under the strain, the Lunar Scythe just barely holding them together. The overflow of Miasma was ripping my body apart from the inside out.
Turquoise Spirit rolled out of my pores and glowed in my eyes and clouded out of my nose and mouth on every breath. I started spirals turning, six, seven, eight of them spinning wildly. I’d never had to condense so many at once before, but if I stopped, I was as good as dead. I couldn’t die. Not until the Bailiff paid for what he’d done.
All the innocent lives I had just stolen along with the evil ones clawed at my conscience, but I shut it down. The Bailiff had murdered Kest. Whatever it took to lock him in hell forever, I would do it.
The opposing paths gaped in front of me, light and dark, both barrels of that Ten shotgun loaded and waiting.
Down the right-hand path, I could become Blessed Death, the peaceful rest at the end of everyone’s road, the old friend welcoming you home with the sunlight on your face. Rali’s idealized version of the ultimate finish line. Maybe it was even real. Maybe some people did deserve that loving reaper to guide them home, but right then I couldn’t see it.
Down the left-hand path lay Cursed Death, bringing with it unimaginable suffering and agony. Violence repaying violence. An eternity of hell without relief. A brutal reaper reveling in the shrieks of the dying as they got back the full measure of evil they’d inflicted on the world.
I took a step.
The angel of death appeared at that crossroads, her silvery eyes glinting angrily in the light of another planet’s magenta moon.
“Grady Hake, if you choose Cursed Death, you begin a war with every Reaper in existence.”
“They’ll have to get in line,” I said in a cold, nothing voice. Glowing Miasma curled out like smoke with every word. “The Bailiff was here first.”
“Don’t be a fool, this isn’t a decision to make with your emotions.” She took a step toward me, but she didn’t get any closer. Clenching her fists in frustration, she said, “You saved me from that revolting pit on Van Diemann, now let me balance my debt by saving you here. Choose the other path.”
Blessed Death shone brighter, like it knew the angel’s arguing had finally gotten my attention. I could feel the peace and comfort rising off that road like heat waves. It was the release from every pain and fear, the forgiveness of every sin and regret. It was you tried your hardest and did your best, now lay your burdens down and be free. An eternal home. Safety. Unending, unconditional love. They were all there, just waiting for me to walk down that shining path and take them.
I swallowed past the knife lodged in my throat. I hoped that was how my mom went, that she just suddenly felt free and she wasn’t scared or worried and everything was beautiful and perfect. Gramps deserved something that good, too. And Kest...
The memory of the shock and fear on her face as the life pumped out of the hole in her chest dragged me back to reality.
“Where was it five minutes ago?” I demanded. “When Kest was... She deserved to die peacefully in her sleep a hundred years from now, but—”
“That’s not how Blessed Death works,” the angel argued.
I raised my voice to yell over her. “—but instead the Bailiff murdered her! Kest died hurt and scared, and it didn’t even matter that me and Rali were there; there was nothing we could do to help her. Now you want me to choose peace and happiness so I can’t even give the Bailiff what he deserves? Just let him get away with it?”
The angel stamped her foot. “You can’t begin to fathom the pain and suffering down that path!”
“Is it worse than getting shot with a glass bullet?” Righteous hatred and pent-up resentment burned through my veins. “Is it worse than getting stabbed and bleeding to death in your grandpa’s kitchen or getting wrongfully dumped on a prison planet and indentured and Transferogated and having to slaughter an army
