1. One o Clock

Out of all the worlds Silene had visited, she hated this one the most. Tall, towering buildings surrounded her all over, noise of all kinds blared around her, none made from nature itself. Cars, mobile phones, planes, and construction sites. A wild nightmare. Even the air was unnatural, tainted with smoke and dust, tainted with gloom and rushing footsteps.

Grey—if there was a colour to describe Asador, it was that. Even Asphodel, the Death God's realm, was more colourful. But then Silene had always found more colour in dying than living. She might be too partial to compare.

Her presence slipped unnoticed as she weaved between the throng of people rushing towards something that Silene couldn't comprehend to be so important that they were tripping over one another, shouting at one another, shoving at one another in order to reach it. Even though humans couldn't see her, they all shivered as she made her way between them towards what looked like an anomaly amongst the rest, a small stone temple or chapel hidden between two tall buildings made entirely of glass. Silene never kept track of what gods or deities humans prayed to or what shrines they built to adore them. It didn't matter in the end. They all ended up in Death's hands. Though Azriel was a kind God, she didn't think there were enough chapels or temples humans could build to have him spare a prayer for them. Death spared nothing. Everything had an expiration date as long as he exited. And Silene was there to collect. But for some reason, she couldn't make herself step past the entrance towards where a young couple stood holding hands before a priest. A bride and a groom. A wedding.

The hair at the back of her neck rose when a strange chill swept inside the chapel, gooseflesh spreading down her arms—arms that were no longer capable of any feeling at all. Silene was merely a presence. An augur. Half a soul made up entirely of death, the very essence of dying. One made a Reaper, a servant of Death, when she'd died a few hundred years ago in a realm almost as miserable as this one. Her touch was perhaps the most lethal out of all to one"s soul. She was the most lethal thing to walk amongst the living. But there was just one thing that was lethal to her. Just one. One that had been lethal to her long before she'd died.

There had only been a few instances when her un-feeling body had reacted to anything or entirely at all. And all those moments had one thing in common.

A presence. Somewhat man. Somewhat God.

He looked like all three.

It was how he deceived, hiding behind that tall human figure, taller than most, taller than his brother even, dressed in jeans and a white t-shirt that let you see all of the artwork in his upper body. He always attempted to blend amongst humans, yet not entirely—no one possessing that face would ever be able to blend amongst humans entirely. Nothing about him looked human to Silene.

He leaned on the other side of the chapel arched doorway, not even five feet from her, and that was somehow the closest he'd ever gotten to Silene. She could now finally see behind the shade of his soft, blonde curls that fell over his brow, shielding his piercing gaze with shadows. From afar, she'd always thought his eyes to be dark, just like his brother's, but they were such a strange shade of blue. Like an ocean being touched by thunder, bright speckles of lightning scattered here and there between the torpid foamy waves.

Silene had seen him many times before, always across the gates of Asphodel, the realm that was now her home and her prison until her five-hundred-year servitude to Death would soon end. She'd seen him many times from afar. Spoken to him, too, when she'd been unable to escape the opportunity.

But not once, not ever had he made himself seen whilst she was working. Or so near her.

There was something akin to resentment between them. She knew her reasons for her resentment, but she could not even begin to fathom his.

Even though they knew so little about one another, some silent history had always existed between them. A history both refused to acknowledge. One she was hoping to never acknowledge.

"What's with all the lace? Are you a tablecloth?" he asked, not even looking at her, his voice much harsher and raspier than from this close. There was not an ounce of gentility in his vowels. It made Silene wonder if the distant space between them had hid this truth to protect her or to deceive her.

Still a little taken aback, her gaze darted down to her black, ankle length dress grazing her boots. "It's really pretty. Do you think we all wear a black cloak and carry a scythe around everywhere we go?" Death was just as lonely as life had been for her, but at least she now had the means to give herself nice things, to make and wear pretty things, to smile at herself in the mirrors she passed. She'd always wanted to learn how to crochet, and it was the first thing she'd done when she'd died. She'd crocheted so many things from clothes to table centre pieces to curtains and clothes, she'd even knitted Azriel a few shirts he'd reluctantly worn when he came over to drink tea with her some lonely afternoons neither of the two knew how to spend with another but had tried to.

He turned to her, those hardened eyes meeting hers, softening as he beheld her, and Silene wondered if this was another trick the space between them was starting to play on her. "Who are you looking pretty for? No one can see you."

For a second, she'd also forgotten what an absolute prick he was. "You can see me." And she could see herself, too. That was more than she'd ever begged for when she'd been alive—to not be seen and leered and beheld by the gaze of others. In a sense, death agreed well with her. It had made her invisible. Untouchable. It had made her everything that she had wished to ever be. Somehow though, to her deepest chagrin, she was still not invisible to life. To him. To the one she'd most wanted to be invisible from.

His mouth slowly curved into the most sinful smirk Silene had ever been flashed. "So you got all dolled up for me?"

It wasn't the words that so much stunned her, it was the fact that she felt warm at his teasing which made her either angry or flustered—she could not really tell. Something like her had never felt warm, even when she'd been alive. She'd feared this. That the closer the distance between the two, the closer she'd be to the scarp that plunged her back to humanity.

"Don't be ridiculous," she said, straightening her shoulders and looking away from him, finally remembering why she had avoided him like the plague for the past five hundred years. "What are you even doing here?" One thing she knew about him for certain was the fact that he did not meddle or interfere, not even witness whatever happened to humans or the worlds they lived in. He was merely a creator who got bored with his creations and let them rampage and stomp all over his own work, all over itself.

"This is the realm I've been staying in."

Her head whipped to him, mouth curling into a cringe. "This one? Out of all the ones there are?"

"Not fond of it?"

"You can say so." She took another glance at him. "Why are you even talking to me?"

"I always talk to you."

Alwayswas a bit far-fetched. "Not this much." A passing greeting, some snide remarks about her clothing or her hair, shameless flirts he passed around to everyone and anyone, sometimes he even threw a dig in relation to her servitude to his brother, Death.

"You keep talking back to me, Silene."

Her first mistake. "Ah, you even remember my name. What a day of miracles," she mused, voice dripping full of sarcasm.

"How can I ever forget my brother's favourite loyal servant?"

There it was. She scratched her cheek absently and muttered under her breath, "Wouldn't say I'm his favourite."

He chuckled and Silene fought the urge to look at him. From afar it had been such a despicable sound that mocked her, from this close, it had sounded so warm, as if the sun had shone directly on her. "Are you still crushing on him even after so long?"

Her eyes flew wide. "What? N-no," she stuttered, a little flustered that he still remembered her silly infatuations early into her death. Had she really been that obvious even from afar? "Besides, he is waiting for the human girl he met years ago."

That usual grim shade fell back over his eyes again and he turned his attention to the young couple preparing to recite their marital vows. "We can still love things that don't love us back."

Even though Silene did not love Azriel the way he had meant it, she didn't say anything else, forcing her attention on the altar as well. From time to time, she threw quick glances at Gabriel, at his blonde hair that fell in soft curls a little longer than most kept it, the ring piercing on his lip that he was nudging with the tip of his tongue, his eyes that were a little too dull, too empty to belong to the God who had given life to almost everything Silene had once touched, breathed, seen and felt.

"See something you like?" he asked, startling her.

"Still looking."

His tongue pressed against his cheek as he smiled ahead.

"This realm is the most miserable place to hide in," she found herself commenting, feeling persuaded to break the awkwardness.

He glanced at her. "Hide?"

"You haven"t visited Azriel in a long while. Your brother even sent looking for you. If he wasn't able to find you, I can only guess it is because you were hiding."

"Maybe I was." Lifting a finger up, he pressed it to his lips. "Let's keep this a secret."

"I can't lie to him if he asks me. You shouldn't have shown yourself if you didn't want me to tell on you."

"Then how would you see me?"

"Why would I need to see you?"

He raked one long look over her. "Maybe I needed to see you." Pushing from the door arch, he strode to her until they were just two feet apart, and Silene almost found herself recoiling. Not as much afraid of what would happen to something like her if she was grazed by his deadly touch, but because she was afraid of feeling remotely human again. "To keep an eye on you and make sure you do your job properly," he said. "Wouldn't want you screwing things up only five deaths away from finishing your service to Az."

Forcing her feet to obey her command to stay still and not back away like a coward, she asked, "What are you? My keeper? The work bureau?"

"Are they above me?"

"To me, yes."

He put a hand to his chest where Silene was almost sure there was nothing under. "Your disregard hurts my feelings a little."

This was the closest he'd been to making her smile. Satisfaction filling her. "Then leave so I can do my job properly," she said, pointing at timekeeper, the magic touched, silver pocket watch gifted to her by Time herself when she'd been made a Reaper. The very same watch that had stopped working all of the sudden. The very same watch that was never meant to stop even when death or life would cease to exist. There was only one person capable of stopping death's time from running, and he was standing all so close to her.

He tipped his chin at the couple. "Let them marry. Time wouldn't mind us borrowing just a minute."

"Time might not," Silene said. "But right now they are just two people who love one another. In another minute it will become eternal. He won't die as her lover. He will die as her husband. As her forever. Bound to her by human vows not even gods will ever understand the meaning to. You could give them one more minute, but you would be taking eternity from her."

He tilted his head back, his eyes curiously boring into hers. "How can you always make me feel like the bad guy?"

Always? That word ticked her when he knew how her end had come from his own gilded hands.

Silene had always made sure to keep most of her thoughts about him to herself. Unlike now. "You've never been the good guy, Gabriel."

"How so?" he asked, amusement flashing across his face as he studied her with a gaze filled with some sort of fascination.

She looked at the couple who'd finished their vows and were about to exchange rings. "You always seem to think you're wanted or needed."

Suddenly, Gabriel stepped away from the chapel, and the watch in her hand started ticking again. Time was following its course anew and death was chasing along.

Silene watched the myriad of emotions catapulting around the house of prayer as the woman's lover clutched his heart and drew out a choked breath before dropping to his knees. Screams followed by cries reverberated around the four walls that had been filled with so much laughter not even a minute ago. Even though his heart had been weak since birth, even though he'd lived longer than what Death had originally planned for him to live, Silene couldn't help but feel guilt. That was her curse. It wasn't her lethal presence that had been gifted by Azriel hundreds of years ago when she'd stepped on his lands. Her curse was to feel guilt she didn't deserve to carry. It wasn't her fault. She was merely a messenger. A guide. But she was taking—she was taking something that didn't want to be taken. She'd been cursed to take, just as she'd taken from him, the one nor man or God standing so closely to her.

A moment was all it took for a wedding to turn into a funeral.

The groom's soul watched it all unfold, kneeling beside his almost wife who was clutching his cold body to her chest and screaming. He whispered words of love to her, trying to comfort her even in death.

After so long in her duty as a Reaper, Silene knew for certain that if love was all it took to save someone, they'd all be eternal.

When she took slow steps inside the room, the air veiled with death, every shadow pulling and twisting in her direction, regarding her with unwavering attention until she stopped before the groom's soul.

He seemed to know her before she uttered any word. And instead of being questioned about his fate like everyone did in death or begged to be let go, he instead asked, "Will she be alright?"

To give comfort, you have to know comfort. Silene had never been good at comforting. "I don't know of life, only of death."

The groom shook his head as he watched his bride, tears welling in his strong eyes. "I can't leave her. Not until I know she is alright." He cried, and Silene's unfeeling heart almost cried, too. "My poor love, how can I leave her?"

Silene's shaking hands curled into fists at her side. "If you stay, you might not be able to ever meet her again in death or any other life. You will linger here for eternity. Aimlessly. Eternally."

His mouth quivered as he tearfully smiled down at his bride. "But I might get to see my unborn son. I might get to see her raise him. I might get to see them together."

"You might."

Tears skittered down his face. "Aren't you supposed to convince me otherwise?"

"We don't stop being human after death. Your will remains. I've never dragged a soul to the afterlife."

"How many of those you were sent to take have stayed behind?"

"None," she truthfully replied. "Because remaining to see and not be able to touch what your heart burns to have is worse than leaving them behind. And I can say that for certain."

"You're like me?"

"I am. But unlike you, I was not fortunate enough to have that choice. My fate has sentenced me to linger, to haunt, to be a ghost of the unkindest nature."

Silene had not been used to pity, not from humans at least, so it took her aback when he asked with such a gentle, worried voice, "Why?"

"Because I took something I was not supposed to take," she said, closing the timekeeper and stepping aside, waiting for the groom to make that decision.

And like she'd expected, the man followed.

Yearning was a disease with a cure. Those strong enough would survive it. They'd conquer it.

Once she made sure the groom's spirit sat on the boat that would sail through the river of Lethe that ran through many worlds to Asphodel, she looked over her shoulder at where Gabriel had leaned against a wall, watching her. "You're still here."

"Fascinating work."

She threw a glance around Asador. "Can't say the same. It is such an unfortunate affair when you hand a paint brush to someone who has no clue how to handle art."

"An artist's job is to create, Silene. How their creation ages and dies is in the hands of the beholders. But you," he started, and Silene braced herself for what was to come, "so strangely, you I have no memory of ever creating or of the beholding hands I put you in. I only know of you…in death."

Maybe because it had been the only significant thing in her vapid life. "I wasn't a memorable existence." Silene was sure that the only piece of memory she might have left behind registering her existence was an obituary. It might as well be all. Her body had started rotting before she'd died. She'd already been a corpse before the night she'd died, and the house she had lived in had always been her grave. It was since then she knew men were not beyond desecrating graves, that they were not even trusted with the dead. For in their hands, she'd always been a corpse, and they still had violated her.

His eyes paced between hers. "Impossible. I would have remembered you."

Silene did not know which God or Fate she owed her thanks to for having shielded her violent life from his eyes. "Why are you so curious out of the sudden?"

"I was there that day," he said, stopping for a moment to look at her before he added, "when you arrived at my brother's gates."

"I saw you as well," she admitted. "Across the river." He'd been the last thing she thought she'd see in death. So close to her. Watching her. Silene could have sworn that when he'd taken that one short step towards her, he would have reached to grab her. But something had stopped him. Something had made him step away, and from then on, never step closer ever again.

His head tilted back, regarding her so strangely. "You swayed a little on your feet when you saw my handsome face."

Her jaw twitched. "It was you who swayed."

"What can I say? I like sad, pretty girls who look at me like they wish nothing more but to bury my existence six feet under."

"You really must be bored."

"Unbearably."

Silene finally looked up at him, doubting her ears that had never heard such melancholy bleed from the voice of the man who beheld everything. "And do I entertain you?"

He shrugged a wide shoulder. "Grab a couple plastic balls and give it a try."

A chuckle escaped her, the most unadulterated thing she'd allowed herself to do in front of someone she loathed more than anything, and she regretted that moment of weakness almost immediately.

Without a word, she turned and headed her way down the street to find another boat that would take her back to Asphodel.

"Why are you always in such a rush?" he asked, appearing right in front of her. "Scared you might actually have some fun or enjoy yourself for once?"

"If you say so," she answered, pocketing her watch.

He reappeared ahead again. "You're always so vague, Silene. Always so mild and plain. So boring."

Silene simply raised a middle finger at the irritating God.

He only grinned back at her.

Before she turned to leave, she mustered the energy to utter a few more words, "Your brother misses you."

"Aw, Isn't that cute? My baby brother misses me."

As she rolled her eyes and made to go on her merry way, something else forced Silene's step falter and turn to him again. "So you came only because you wanted me to give the couple a few more minutes?"

"Unsure if I am being accused or not."

"Why this one?"

"Why not this one?"

"Because you're a selfish bastard."

His smirk turned serpentine. "Your honesty charms me."

She fashioned a bow at him and then turned on her heeled boots towards the invisible river flowing over the busy streets filled with cars honking angrily at the traffic, so clueless how close they stood to the afterlife. That the gates to beyond were so paper-thin.

Just before she reached the boat that usually sailed her back and forth the worlds, she stopped on her tracks, glaring at the presence that was haunting her worse than a Reaper usually haunted spirits. "This has been most unpleasant. Let's not cross paths again."

"Liar!" he shouted back.

And as Gabriel stood there, watching the pretty Reaper vanish into the fog of the invisible river that would carry her back into his brother's lands, a grin stretched across his face. "Silene, Silene," he murmured, testing the forbidding syllables on his tongue—a name he'd not allowed himself to call upon until this very day. Each and every vowel and consonant belonging to that name seemed new to him even though he was probably the one who knew her the longest out of every single creature that had ever existed.