I couldn’t place him, although I was certain we knew each other. But instead of dwelling on his identity, I placed my small hand in his large one and let him lead me to the middle of the dance floor.
The orchestra continued its mournful lament, shifting into a minuet, each note lingering in the way of memory. My emotions surged, unbidden, pulling me back through the fog of the last few years—years cloaked in the darkness of war, yet somehow illuminating parts of me I’d believed long dead. I never played a vital role in the war, but I found myself face to face with the dead more than I cared to.
His hand found my waist, steady and sure, guiding me into the dance as we moved in circles, a quiet orbit of two. We didn’t speak. We didn’t need to.
Our gazes locked, intense and unflinching, but I couldn’t look away even if I tried. I melted into the strength of him, allowing myself a single moment of surrender. A single moment to feel something beyond survival.
Fire threaded through my veins, igniting every inch of skin. I leaned in closer, my cheek grazing his shoulder, and smiled—truly smiled. Not for show or courtesy, but something real. The kind of smile I hadn’t felt in years, born from the quiet magic of a stranger’s arms and a song that knew how to ache.
A quiet sorrow settled between us as the final notes fell, soft and inevitable. I’d grown used to goodbyes. I'd even come to expect them, and found a strange kind of relief in their certainty.
But not this one.
This one felt heavier. The ache of something unfinished, unspoken. And yet, it was already over. Much to my dismay, similar to everything else that had ever stirred something real in me.
The strings held the final note and he took the opportunity to step in, mouth dipping toward my ear. His breath was warm, electric.
“Is your mind made up, then?”
I furrowed my brow, breath catching.
“Where to next, Astoria?”
I pulled away from him, almost stumbling.
“Shhh…” he soothed, tucking me back into his embrace as couples moved around us to the opening strains of the next song. “Your secret is safe with me.”
Clarity struck with an arrow to the chest.
I looked up into his eyes, searching for answers I already knew.
“Death?” I asked, lips scantly moving.
“My Tempest,” he spoke just above a breath, lowering his cheek to my head as we swayed, the swaths of black fabric around us glittering with the beauty of stars fallen to earth.
“What are you doing here?” I murmured, relaxing into his grip once more.
“I wanted to see you off.” He reached for a curl that had slipped forward, wrapping the red strand around his finger with maddening tenderness. “Is that so terrible?”
“It’s… strange.”
“There’s nothing strange about dancing with a mesmerizing woman draped in my color.” He gave a quiet smile. “Except, perhaps, that the woman is almost a hundred years old…”
I gave him a look, pushing gently at his shoulder before tucking the lock behind my ear.
“Let’s take a walk,” he said softly, already tugging me toward the doors off to the side, the ones that opened onto the garden, where moonlight waited.
Torched lamps and candles littered the patio beyond the doors, casting a warm, golden glow over the gardens below.Snow had just begun to fall, the soft flurries catching moonlight as they drifted lazily through the air.
It was quiet. No chirps from the trees. No howling from the woods beyond. Even the gravel held its breath beneath our feet. The heavy doors behind us muffled the revelry of the ballroom, sealing it away like a dream. Out here, the world had fallen asleep. Still. Breathless.
“It’s beautiful.” I tilted my face to the wind, letting the crisp breeze wash over me.
“You are,” Death replied, stepping beside me. “Beautiful, that is…” He cleared his throat awkwardly, casting me a quick glance before redirecting his gaze to the garden’s edge.
If it hadn’t been so cold, my eyes might have welled with tears. Vulnerability—thatwas the true affliction of being known. Even more so by your enemy.
The thought struck gently, uninvited but persistent.
