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Far across the water, miles out to sea, dark grey clouds formed above. The farther from the shore, the darker it got, like someone took a paintbrush to the sky and blended day and night together. Lightning flashed and flickered within the wall of clouds, foreshadowing what was to come. When the distant sky went dark once more, the echo of thunder travelled across the water, each boom reaching farther, sounding louder.
The wind shifted and the palm trees rooted to the nearby island swayed and shook. Animals and insects alike skittered towards shelter, their instincts taking charge. The inhabitants of the island worked to secure their settlements, packing sand in the cracks of front doorways and walling up the carved out holes that served as windows.
They had survived countless storms for countless generations. But, storms weren’t like they used to be. They were ruthless as always, but it’s like they were fueled by anger, by vengeance. It was as if Mother Nature herself conjured each disaster only to serve as a consequence, a punishment to humans for destroying their world. For destroying her.
It wasn’t known how many villagers would be injured, let alone the animals, but as the hurricane brewed over the water, reaching ever closer, It hung in the air, heavy and catastrophic.
Death was upon them.
It couldn’t intervene, couldn’t save them. All It could do was watch and wait, how it was and always will be.
In the current Cosmos, the Seventh to be exact, Death had never felt so powerful. It seemed as if It was tending to catastrophe after catastrophe, disaster after disaster. This universe consisted of so many threats, cosmic and mortal alike. It was angry, dangerous, in need of change.
Death felt it.
The shift.
This universe’s time was near. If it were up to Death, this world only had several hundred years left, nothing compared to the wide expanse of time that It had seen.
And through all of that time, Death had taken many forms, too many to count. It made the collection process easier, to present as something familiar. Families of the dying and the dying themselves deserved comfort in their passing, and It realized something as simple as morphing into a childhood pet or a deceased loved one could do just that.
But, It never stayed as in these forms for long, preferring to present as something with less attachment to the dead.
Rio Vidal was only a teenager when Death first noticed her.
It wasn’t there to collect, but to simply observe.
She was with her abuela under a tree behind their bohío, watching closely as the older woman chanted an incantation and placed her hands upon the earth. Rio blinked in awe as flowers of pink and orange bloomed around her.
Then, Rio’s abuela motioned to her, seemingly to tell her it was her turn. Following the older woman’s instructions, Rio set her hands upon the grass just as her abuela did. But, before Rio could speak, the field they sat in exploded with color. The tree above them began to blossom, its petals falling gently like snow. Just as quickly as the burst of life came, it faded, the flowers withering and the tree losing all its leaves and flora. What remained was a landscape of brownish green and yellow, an uncanny sight in the middle of summer.
Death knew right then that Rio was special, different, capable of magic unseen by anyone before.
It kept a close eye on the girl throughout the years, watching her grow, her powers following suit. Everyday, she practiced and honed her magic, her abuela watching over her with nothing but pride.
Death formally met Rio the day her abuela died. It took the form of a black cat, a stray It had noticed wandering the village. It viewed Rio hunched over her abuela in her bed. A peaceful death it was, slipping away in her sleep. It sat quietly in the doorway, waiting patiently.
Then, Rio placed her hands on her abuela’s torso, resting them on her stomach and heart. Death knew Rio’s intentions, but more importantly, knew they were in vain.
It slinked towards the bed and gracefully jumped onto the small space on the pillow, right next to the older woman’s head.
Rio seemed startled, but continued her efforts.
That will not work, Death boomed.
This time, Rio jerked back away from the bed, fear evident in her face.
There is nothing to be afraid of. I cannot hurt you.
“¿Qué eres?” Rio asked, her eyes red and her throat raw.
What am I? A good question, but we have met before, Rio Vidal.
Rio sucks in a shaky breath.
“Santa Muerte.”
Precisely. Though, there is nothing holy about me. I am no god nor saint. Praying to me is futile. I will come for everyone soon enough.
“Por favor, no te la lleves. Todavía puedo salvarla.”
I must take her. You are only spending your energy. No one can reverse death.
“¡Puedes salvarla!” Rio shouted desperately.
I can, but I will not. It is forbidden. I am here to collect her soul, not resurrect it.
“¡Por favor, haré lo que sea!”
Rio Vidal. You are gifted. The most gifted person I have ever seen. Your power comes from Mother Nature herself. Your maternal lineage can be traced back to the earliest cases of Green Magic. I urge you to take advantage of your magic while you still can. You will see your grandmother again. I cannot bring her back, but you will carry her with you always. I must collect her now. There are other souls calling to me.
“¡No! ¡Llévame contigo, entonces! ¡Aquí no hay nada para mí!”
I…cannot. There are rules I must follow. I—
“Por favor. No deseo poder, solo conocimiento. ¿Qué reglas se infringirían? Puedes ser cualquiera, ¿no?”
You are clever. Almost too clever. Do you wish to carry this burden, Rio Vidal? It is not a duty that is to be taken lightly.
“Sí.”
——————————————————————
The day Death took over Rio’s soul, became Rio, It felt the connection with the earth that surged through her veins. It felt powerful, not in a cosmic way, but in a colorful way.
For the first time in Its existence, Death felt alive.
It could feel things. Pain, warmth, love.
It could smell things. Smoke, rain, flowers.
It could taste things. The sweetness of honey, the sourness of apples, the saltiness of skin.
It could hear things. Rushing water, barking dogs, singing voices.
It could see things, too, but differently.
Instead of watching over the universe, observing everything at once, with this woman, It only saw what was visible through her dark brown eyes.
It could see the black night sky, the deep green trees, watery blue eyes looking into her own.
Well, Death only saw those in flashes of memories. It didn’t know who they belonged to and where It had seen them before, but It was drawn to them just the same.
As Rio, Death still had Its powers. Rio could teleport, shapeshift, and manipulate energy, souls, space, and time. On the rare occasion a mortal somehow resisted her, Rio had no trouble collecting her due. Technically, she could kill any living thing with a flick of her wrist, but she would never.
Ever.
That was Death’s only rule and Rio staunchly agreed. No killing, no taking of innocent lives, especially animals and children. They would meet one day. There was no need to steal their time.
Now, back from her duties after the disastrous hurricane that rocked the village, Rio walks through the Massachusetts forest. Death had just dealt with business, souls calling out just across town. They were…innocent, young girls being killed in the name of fear. In the name of safety. In the name of God.
Pobres almas.
Yes. But, they are safer with us now. At peace.
As Rio treads through the leaves, she whispers old Taíno phrases and watches as the trees blossom in her wake. Death likes casting these spells, even though It could create life without them. It’s as if Death and Rio had a symbiotic relationship. Death got to experience what it means to live and breathe, and Rio was able to conjure anything she desired, compiling the knowledge and wisdom of each place she visits.
As night falls and the autumn leaves crunch beneath her feet, Rio feels something in the air.
Magic. A lot of it.
Death had collected souls as Its human form before, but none that radiated this much energy.
The souls across town wielded no magic, conjured no spells, but this, this must be a group of skilled witches.
She follows the feeling, watching as the dark woods bloom a bright blue. As she approaches, she shields herself behind a tree and watches as a group of women—a coven, she assumes—cast all their energy towards a figure tied to a stake.
She was familiar with witch hunts and trials and had seen many in her existence. This is no Devil work, however. These are witches killing one of their own. On the wooden stake, Rio could make out the outline of a young woman, no older than 24. She cries out in pain and Rio could feel her end drawing near.
Then, she goes quiet. Rio watches as blue tendrils turn into a deep purple. The young woman is no longer dying, she’s feeding.
On her coven, on their energy, on their power. Rio feels the life slowly drain out of the women gathered around the stake, as they are unable to reign their own energy back in.
Soon enough, they collapse to the ground, grey and stiff.
The woman uses her newly acquired power to break free from the binds around her wrists and wipes the tears from her face. She looks around, apathetic and cold.
Rio intends to wait until the woman leaves, preferring to reap souls in peace so she could perform her collection ritual. It wasn’t necessary, but it is the best way to ensure she receives every last piece of their life force.
But then, a steady voice calls out, “You can come out from behind that tree, now. I don’t have any quarrels with you.”
Rio, a little startled, bows her head as she steps around the tree. Her green hooded cloak covers her face. She quickly transforms from her skeletal configuration to smooth brown skin and rosy cheeks.
The voice calls out again, “What is your business in these woods?”
Rio keeps her head down as she answers, “I saw a beautiful light. I must admit, I am intrigued.”
“Intrigued? I assure you there is nothing intriguing going on here,” The woman quips defensively as she steps closer.
“See, I would believe you, but those bodies on the ground say otherwise. What did they do?”
Rio asks calmly.
“They accused me of something. They thought I was dangerous,” the woman explains.
“It looks like they were correct,” Rio replies, her hands clasped behind her back.
“And if you don't want to join them, I suggest you get on your merry way,” the woman shoots back, her voice laced with feigned sweetness.
Rio makes no move to leave, standing her ground, “I apologize, but I cannot do that.”
“And why’s that? Are you here to try and kill me, too? I doubt you’ll get very far.”
This makes Rio lift her head, her eyes falling clearly upon the woman for the first time.
She’s beautiful.
She has long black hair that cascades down her face and shoulders, wild and untamed. She conjures purple energy in her hands, playing with it like it were a toy. As Rio’s eyes trace the woman’s form, they reach her face, and Rio sees two familiar eyes staring back into hers. They are the ones she saw in her memories, she’s sure of it.
Maybe, they weren’t memories at all.
“No, no. I am not here to kill anyone. I don’t do that,” Rio expressed, her voice low.
“‘Cause you’re so righteous, huh? If you’re here to judge, I suggest you wait until I leave,” the woman bites.
We have not seen one this scorned in quite a while.
O una tan bonita como esta.
“Tell me, what has happened to make you this angry?” Rio asks patiently.
“Did you not see them try to kill me? It’s not everyday your own coven turns on you,” the woman spits, peering at the bodies on the ground, gazing at one in particular.
“She was your mother,” Rio states frankly.
The woman’s head snaps towards Rio and she stomps closer. She sends a blast of purple magic towards Rio, pushing her back against a tree. The woman then pins Rio against the tree, a strong forearm against her throat.
“I’m only going to ask this once. Who are you?” the woman seethes, pressing Rio harder against the bark.
“My name is Rio,” she chokes out as she raises her hands in surrender.
“Ok, Rio. Here’s what’s about to happen. I’m gonna let you go, but only if you leave. Immediately. Pretend this never happened, you never saw anything, you never saw me.”
“I told you, I cannot do that,” Rio says plainly.
Instead of waiting for the woman’s response, Rio conjures vines that twist and wrap around the woman’s body, pinning her arms at her sides. Then, Rio simply steps to the side, leaving the woman struggling and writing against the thick green ropes.
The woman, stunned, laughs in disbelief, “You’re a Green Witch.”
Rio, now free from the harsh grip, chuckles as she walks off towards the bodies scattered across the ground. She looks over her shoulder and corrects, “More like the green witch.”
She kneels beside the first body and hears the woman shout, “What are you going to do to her?”
Rio hums, noncommittal, “Nothing worse than what you did. I am simply receiving her soul. You do not want her to come back to haunt you, do you? I do not have parents, but it seems as if you two did not get along very well.”
“She was cruel! I—I just wanted her to be proud of me, but nothing I did was ever good enough,” the woman shouts pleadingly as she thrashes against the vines. She tries to conjure energy, but her magic simply fizzles out as it touches the vines.
Rio feels a pang of sympathy run through her as she continues to crouch over the body. Her face transforms back into her skeletal form as she places her hands on the dead woman’s chest, just under her collar bones. She closes her eyes and feels the woman’s soul, her essence, flow into her hands, up her arms, and into her own chest. Once she’s done, she sees a small brooch clipped to the woman’s cloak. She unpins it and slips it in the pocket of her own cloak.
Rio repeats the process with every single body until she’s sure each spirit has been collected. She feels the new energy buzz within her body and hears it crackle as she peers down at her hands, which now glow an emerald green.
Thank you.
Por supesto.
That woman, she is mystifying. I must know her name.
Vamos a averiguarlo.
Rio walks back to the woman, stopping in front of her. Her face is human again, but her eyes are dark, like they’re full of secrets.
“Who—what are you?” The woman sputters, her eyes still sharp as ever.
“I am the natural order of all things,” Rio smirks before tilting her head, questioning, “And you are?”
“Let me go and I might tell you,” the woman spits out.
Rio is about to tighten the vines, unhappy with the response, but Death calls to her.
No. I do not wish to hurt her. Unbound her.
Rio obliges and flicks her wrists, watching as the vines recede back into the earth. The woman rubs at her wrists before smoothing out her dress and curling her hair behind her ears.
“Do not try anything, child. I am not in the mood,” Rio states as she squints piercingly.
“Call me child again. Your mood will be the least of your worries,” the woman points a finger towards Rio.
“Fine. What shall I call you, then?” Rio questions once more, stepping forward until she’s in the woman’s space.
They stare at each other for a couple seconds.
Then, the woman speaks.
“Agatha,” she says, looking smaller than she had presented the whole evening before regaining her bravado. “I’ll tell you my last name if you answer a couple questions.”
“Ask away.”
The woman—Agatha—takes a deep breath before inquiring, “You’re a Green Witch, right?” Rio nods, encouraging Agatha to continue. “How did you learn magic? And why didn’t my magic work on the vines?”
“I have always been this way. My power is not of this planet. Not of this universe. Truthfully, neither am I,” Rio answers.
“If you keep saying things like that, we’re going to be here all night,” Agatha huffs.
“I do not mind,” Rio replies with a small smile.
“Okay, so what does that mean? Not of this universe? Are there other universes out there?”
“Yes, there are. It is called the multiverse. But, I am not from any of those universes, either. I am from an earlier multiverse. I was created at the same time as time itself. I have seen the beginning of life and will surely see the end.”
“And how do you know that?”
“All roads lead to me.”
“And where is that, exactly?”
Rio smiles widely, revealing the small gap between her front teeth. She bows her head, hood covering her skeletal face as it replaces her human one.
What if I scare her?
Eres hermoso.
She raises her head once more, watching closely for Agatha’s reaction. Her eyes undoubtedly widen, before they inspect curiously. She steps closer until Death could truly see just how blue her eyes were. The forest is silent, as if even the crickets and birds hold their breath.
“You’re beautiful,” Agatha breathes out.
Te lo dije.
Thank you, the guttural voice sounds. You are not scared? Its mouth doesn’t move, the sound simply booming from within.
“No. It’s fascinating. You’re fascinating,” Agatha reassures, her tone filled with awe. “So, I take it you’re the Grim Reaper?”
That is one of the names I’ve heard before. Though, my true form does not have a name, the voice explains.
“True form?”
I am where souls go after they have died. I am both the collector and the collection. I am Death.
“Like, with a capital ‘D’?” Agatha smirks as she jokes, quirking her brow.
It lets out a husky sound, something similar to a laugh, I suppose you could say that, Agatha.
The smile on Agatha’s face disappears. Her brows furrow and her bright blue eyes look almost glazed over. Death bows Its head to return to its human form, assuming it has crossed a line.
“No, wait. Don’t turn back, not yet. Harkness, my last name is Harkness,” she insists, all the playfulness gone from her voice.
Agatha Harkness, Death booms, trying it out.
Agatha nods, mouth slightly agape, and orders, “Say it again.”
Death tilts its head, but obeys. Agatha Harkness. It—
“Again.”
Agatha. Harkness, Death repeats once more, slower, more deliberately. It is a pleasure to meet you.
Agatha’s eyes shine, her posture straightened, and the smirk returns to her face.
“Likewise, Lady Death,” Agatha replies after a beat.
Death shakes Its head, I am no lady. I am no gentleman. I simply am.
Agatha grins devilishly, “Whatever you say, handsome.”
¿Guapo? Esa es nueva. Me gusta. Mucho.
Me too—
“Gracias. Debo decir que eres encantadora. Tu energía me atrae,” Rio blurts out, voice human, but face still skeletal.
Agatha’s brows shoot up and her neck turns a dark crimson, her cheeks soon following. She visibly swallows before muttering, “God, I—”
“No, sólo yo,” Rio states again, smirking. She goes to speak again, a deep voice interjecting and clearing Its throat, I apologize. That was…unlike me. I hope you are not offended.
Agatha cocks her head, face still flushed, “That’s not the word I would use. So, Death speaks Spanish?”
I can speak any language. Sometimes, it is necessary for my duties. But, Spanish…it comes more naturally than the others, it explains. Do you speak it?
“Not fully. I recognized some words from Latin, so I put the pieces together. I do hope I’ll hear more in the future,” Agatha expresses as she curls her brow.
“Cuando quieras, demonio de ojos azules,” Rio’s voice comes back through, laced with amusement.
Agatha scoffs playfully, “Oh, I’ll show you a demon—”
Just then, leaves crunch through the woods. Death quickly lowers Its head, raising it once Rio’s face returns. The two women turn towards the source of the sound.
It’s a fawn. A small, white tailed, wet nosed, fawn. Rio’s mouth spreads into a toothy smile. New beginnings are near. She looks back to Agatha and sees her smiling just as wide at the baby deer.
Perhaps, new beginnings have already arrived.
Then, she feels it calling out to her once again. A singular soul, across the world. Surely she could wait, even if it were an hour or two. It calls out again, louder, this time. She takes Agatha’s hands in hers, the other woman turning her head back to face Rio.
“Agatha, I must go,” she states, hiding the sadness in her voice.
“I—I understand,” Agatha lowers her head to look at their hands. “Will I see you again?”
“Yes, I promise,” Rio confirms immediately.
Agatha detaches her right hand from Rio’s and holds it up between them, only her pinky raised. Rio smiles softly and hooks her own pinky around Agatha’s. She watches as Agatha kisses her thumb and Rio does the same, sealing their promise. As she does, a spark of energy shocks their hands, causing them to jump back, letting out a mix between a laugh and a yelp.
Then, Rio remembers the brooch in her pocket.
She takes it out and places it in Agatha’s hand, “Here. I suppose you will want this. Before I go, can I ask what it means?”
Agatha looks down with a sad smile, “Thank you. They’re the Triple Goddesses. They represent the three stages of a woman’s life; the Maiden, the Mother, and the Crone. I suppose I’m the Maiden right now, but one day I hope to meet the Mother. My own never truly loved me, so I want to give a child the love I never received,” she finishes with another smile, something shining in her eyes.
“She was a fool for not showing you the love you deserve, Agatha. I felt it when I collected her, the hatred. I believe hate should only be reserved for those who truly deserve it,” Rio states seriously.
“Me too. Thank you, Rio.”
Rio grins as she tilts her head, “Even if I do not seek you out intentionally, I have a feeling our paths are destined to cross again, Agatha Harkness.”
Rio gazes at Agatha again, and Agatha at Rio, taking each other in.
As the soul calls one last time, Rio could feel it slipping away. She needs to go.
“Te veo,” she utters, disappearing before Agatha’s eyes, leaving her in the silence of the darkened forest, nothing left behind but a patch of green flowers where she once stood.