A jolt through Scarlet’s chest woke her from her restless slumber.

Abruptly, she found herself sitting up in her bed. Her bed? Nothing felt hers in this room, in this castle, in this World.

Her heart raced. What had woken her? Was something wrong?

The dark walls closed in.

Something was wrong. Her heart? Something in her chest. It was crushing, sinking, burning. Wrong wrong wrong.

Was her heart still her own? Not while she was linked with Death; her actions beyond her control.

Her lungs were collapsing.

Why wasn’t her mother here? That too, was wrong.

She’s dead, she has to be dead, or she’d be here.

Scarlet was dying.

The moonlit room was spinning. Scarlet’s fingers were interlocked with her tangled curls. The mild pain of pulled hair was the only thing that kept Scarlet from falling out of her own body.

She had to do something. Get help. Scarlet pulled herself out of bed, but her vision faltered, followed closely by her body. Her knees clashed into the stone floor. Everything spun.

I’m not going to make it.

Her mother wasn’t here to save her. She was alone. Bronwen? Too far. She’d never get to his quarters before passing out, not like this.

I’m going to die.

Her vision faded to black.

#

Scarlet dreamt about the raven—no, the god. There was a sensation, as if she were floating down a river. Or perhaps, she was part of the river. She had no body, and her self was dispersing into the water as it flowed. Her destination was close.

Black feathers fluttered against a hazy, purple sky. An outstretched hand pulled what was left of her from the stream. There was a deal. She could live. She could have what she wanted most: power. All she had to do, was trade her soul—

#

Consciousness dawned. Sunlight bit at Scarlet’s eyes.

A series of knocks resounded on her door. There was an impatience in them that told Scarlet that it wasn’t the first set of raps.

Her body was heavy against the cold stone floor. She wasn’t about to get up.

With Scarlet’s continued unresponsiveness, Death threw the door open. She looked down at Scarlet with disdain.

“It’s past sunrise.”

She was late for training. She’d never been late. “I don’t feel well.”

“Do you think I give a damn?”

“I don’t care.” Scarlet was surprised to find this to be true. Learning magic was all that she wanted for so long. But right now, lethargy had set into her bones, and she didn’t have the strength to break free from it.

“Get up.”

“Why should I?” Scarlet snapped. Her own anger surprised her. After her near-death experience, or her panic attack, or whatever it was, her emotions were unspooling. “You won’t even tell me if my mother is alive.”

“I told you,” Death said, “to get out of bed.”

Scarlet started to rise. Catching herself, she tensed her body in an attempt to resist the compulsion. But the magic ran through her and it was impossible to resist obeying for more than a couple seconds. She got to her feet and stood face to face with Death and her razor-sharp gaze.

“Is that how this is going to be then?” Scarlet asked. “I’m forced to obey you, and never get answers?”

Death scowled and began to walk out of the room. “It is time to train. I will give you answers when you need them.”

“I need this one.” Scarlet gathered every drop of her anger and concentrated it into an energy dart that she shot at Death’s back. At the final moment before impact, Death spun impossibly fast and swiped her hand to spot-shield the bolt.

“This will not go well for you,” Death warned.

Scarlet could feel the power in the air as the god focused her energy. “I don’t care,” Scarlet said once more. She took a fighting stance and awaited whatever Death would throw at her, but she didn’t even see the blow coming.

A rope-like length of pure magic swiped at her feet, knocking her to the floor. Scarlet scrambled back up, grabbing her dagger from her boot sheath. If she couldn’t beat Death with magic, maybe she could catch her off-guard with a different tactic.

Scarlet charged at Death, who grabbed her wrists and pulled Scarlet into a hold, twisting her hand behind her back. Death ripped the dagger from her clutch and threw it onto the stone floor. It clanged as it made contact, making Scarlet wince. She hoped it wasn’t damaged. It was the only keepsake she had from her mother.

“What are you hoping to accomplish, Scarlet? To make a fool of yourself?”

Scarlet said nothing. She’d just tried to fight a god. She knew what power her master held; she’d felt it firsthand. Wielded it firsthand. Of course it was idiotic. But she needed to know the truth, and she couldn’t do nothing.

“Silence? Wise.”

There was a yank on the emissary bond. Like a plug was pulled, all Scarlet’s energy rushed out of her body. She slumped to the floor like a ragdoll. She was barely conscious as Death, surprisingly strong, picked up her dead weight and carried her through Deianira.

In vain, Scarlet tried to follow the turns despite her blurred vision and spinning head. Where was Death taking her? Down stairs. More turns. More stairs. She lost track of what floor they were on. It was so cold as they went down further; had they ventured below ground level? Scarlet had never found a way beneath the castle, despite Death’s hint about there being a floor she hadn’t discovered.

Scarlet blinked rapidly, trying to focus her eyes. Her vision cleared enough to see a set of bars, before Death tossed her onto the floor. Scarlet hit stone, hard, knocking the breath out of her.

“Stay here for a while.” Death said. She slammed the cell door shut. The grating sound of metal on metal echoed down the hall. “Perhaps it will help you appreciate the privileges I grant you.”

Freezing air refilled Scarlet’s lungs, sending her into a coughing fit. When she recovered, Death was already gone, leaving her alone in a bare cell.

Deianira did, in fact, have a basement. It was a dungeon.