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Malice

Death is a rebel. In one respect, the joke is on everyone because no matter what they think of free will, the afterlife doesn’t give a fuck. It’s an entity unto itself, a force that comes when it feels like it. No one gets a say.

On the other hand, sometimes the dying are given a choice, the free will to decide how to exhale their last breath, spend their last second, speak their last word.

But this only happens if the fading god is a lucky son of a bitch.

Considering Malice’s track record, he’s surprised to have gotten this privilege.

It’s all to her credit. It has to be.

Why else get this shot? The grim reaper wasn’t exactly generous about Malice’s last grand exit as a noble human, so why do otherwise after reincarnating him into a heinous motherfucker?

Wonder. That’s why.

So with all that’s left in his condemned soul, he makes their ending worthwhile.

He goes out on a high, watching her face above him, those green eyes shimmering, seeing him for who he really is and wanting him anyway.

He leaves knowing she’s alive, knowing he made that happen, knowing he did her some good after all.

While bleeding out, he’s proud to have made this wildflower smile.

She might suffer his death, but the goddess will recover. She has before. She’s always been stronger than him.

Wonder.

I see my star.

Who knew he’d make one final discovery on the way out? Malice spent this immortal life unaware of which celestial created him, only to learn it was her. His life-force. His maker. His eternity. It had been all Wonder’s doing. That brave, brilliant, blossoming constellation. A wandering star.

As his body dissolves into mist, Malice commits this moment to memory. Wonder’s gorgeous face hovering like an angel to his devil. Ah, but he likes this parting view.

The warmth of her mouth lingers on his. The beat of her heart pounds in his ears.

Then she’s gone. And so is he.

Blackness swallows Malice, drawing him beneath the library, under the earth to a place he used to read about. On the bright side, he’s headed in the right direction. He wasn’t kidding when he once told Wonder that Hades was misunderstood.

In fact, Malice wouldn’t mind becoming Lord of the Underworld. But then again, he’s already been there, done that. Except his underworld had been filled with books, secrets, and her, which had been the best kind of hell.

Real. Gritty. Messy. Sexy. Honest.

Beautiful.

He sighs in relief, an old piece of his soul detaching from his body like a phantom, a weight lifting as he falls into the abyss. Malice and Wonder hadn’t had much time together, but they made it count. It had been worth the millennia of waiting, of nightmares, of loneliness.

Malice would do it again. But at least he did it once. Of all the fucked up shit he ever pulled in this immortal existence, at least he got one thing right.

At least he got to love her.