[Bonus chapter thanks to BobTheEngineer <3]
Iskaleth felt as though a hand had closed around her throat.
Sylas hadn't moved. His Will hadn't so much as twitched. There was no killing intent, no pressure descending from his body, and yet the moment the faintest possibility of her death entered his mind, Fate seemed to decide the matter was already over.
The world around Iskaleth darkened, countless paths collapsing beneath her senses until nothing remained but a single end. The Reaper stood behind her shoulder, its torn black robes trailing through a wind that didn't exist, the white-boned shaft of its scythe resting against her neck.
The blade didn't move, but phantom pain already dug into her flesh, cutting through skin, muscle, and bone until she could almost feel her head separating from her body.
