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Dylan’s screaming reached a crescendo as I heard the distinct sound of flesh being ripped apart. The growling grew louder in its intensity, a gurgling roar joining the fray, before Dylan’s screams tapered off. Silence descended, so sickeningly pronounced that I wanted to vomit.

Oh god.

The figure continued to stand before me, their gaze fixed in the direction Dylan had just beeneaten.

Was he going to kill me?

Oh god.

He was going to kill me, wasn’t he?

My stomach spasmed, trying desperately to empty itself on the pitch-black flooring, as I took another tentative step backwards, trembling erratically.

Slowly, the figure turned to face me, the hood sliding away from his face.

The whole world disappeared, and my breathing became a ragged sound, the noise almost distant through the thrumming of blood in my ears. A large stone settled in my stomach, crushing me, as I stared into the familiar dark eyes before me.

His expression was stoic, though that damn, infuriating grin still pulled up his plush lips.

“Heath,” I whispered, my gaze dropping to the scythe in his hand. And then to his eyes. And then back to the scythe.

He reached forward and took my wrist in his hand before I could even think to move.

The dark world fell away like grains of sand in an hourglass as we fell, fell, fell.

Me and Heath.

Me and…

A reaper.