In the realm of Existence where Birth, Death, and Fate converged, the fabric of life was shaped and guided. Each individual's journey was orchestrated by these powerful entities, each with a unique purpose.

Fate stood at the centre, a formidable force with an insatiable appetite for weaving intricate threads of destiny. With near-obsessive precision, Fate mapped out the lives of each soul, intertwining their paths with complex choices and consequential encounters. She delighted in the complexity of existence, always eager to manipulate and shape future outcomes. Currently, she was seated in her high-backed chair, her silver hair tied back in a neat bun, wisps framing her weathered face.

She puffed thoughtfully on her pipe, the sweet aroma of tobacco mingling with the scent of aged parchment. Her eyes were intensely trained on a newspaper from the early '80s, though for the past half-hour she hadn't read a single sensible line. It had been a difficult task to comprehend anything with a loud whimpering child in her presence. She willed Birth to arrive soon, trying her best to drown out Death's complaints in the background.

Birth was the gentle harbinger of new beginnings, bringing forth souls into the world and infusing them with potential and purpose. She marked a moment of hope and anticipation, the start of a unique journey that would unfold over time. It was all good until she met a mortal child named Devereaux, took pity on him, and literally took him as her foster son. The woman was supposed to be an entity, just like Fate herself, void of emotions, just there to manoeuvre the balance of Existence - but apparently, the traits of this half-dead human she had appointed as the Lord of Death had rubbed off on her.

Fate was worried that the manifestation of Lady Birth here would not make a big difference, given the circumstances. She anticipated her arrival nonetheless, hoping she could at least shut him up for a good long minute so she could explain herself. Sure, Moira had agreed, even played a big part in making his mortal existence immortal - but with the volume of his complaints that threatened to deafen her immortal ears, Lady Moira had begun to reconsider her choices.

Devereaux paced back and forth, his agitation palpable in the air. His normally composed demeanour was shattered, replaced by a simmering anger that threatened to boil over at any moment. Each step he took echoed through the silent library, a testament to his restless energy. His worst fear had manifested. Death in question was so riled up. His vacation was suddenly called off. His last assignment had suddenly bestowed upon him. Both he wasn't mentally prepared for.

He was the inevitable conclusion to every tale - casting his gaze upon souls, guiding them to the final threshold of existence. He performed a solemn and sacred duty, ensuring that every life had its appointed end, completing the cycle of existence and making way for new beginnings. But right now he was none of it. He was no better than a child denied his favourite candy.

The golden light from the antique lamps cast a warm glow over the room, illuminating the intricate patterns of the green and gold wallpaper that adorned the walls.

"You pacing around like a volcanic eruption isn't going to help either," she remarked calmly, her gaze never leaving the newspaper spread out before her. "You're making me restless too."

"Then just tell me precisely, with great detail, what the hell should I do? She's hurting out there, and what do you expect me to do? Sit here and smoke a joint with you?" Devereaux snapped, frustration seeping into his voice.

"You can't just destroy him. He has a piece of her in him. And vice versa. If he's gone, she'll be gone too. A soul can't last with a missing piece. That's against natural order."

"This whole ordeal is against natural order!"

"Wasn't my plan, was it?" Lady Moira sighed, folding the newspaper neatly and setting it aside. "You haven't changed at all, Severan. You're still that eighteen-year-old Nova brought to me - restless, nearsighted."

"Too much for redemption, don't you think?" A new voice resonated through the long library hall. A new figure - deep ocean eyes, long black curls, earthy skin, and a voice that tinkled like a stream flowing to a paddy field - Lady Nova manifested to her full glory out of thin air. A beautiful nude green frock flowed around her, shimmering like stardust.

"Oh Nova, finally! I have had enough of this pestering kid!" she gestured towards Death with her eyes and saw him glaring back at her.

"I had to make sure all the seven clans got the memo. The news of Gan's escape has shaken the realms."

"That's good," she nodded and turned towards Death. "See? That's how a responsible entity works towards disaster management -"

"Which would have not occurred if you had guarded that prison a little better-" Devereaux spat.

Confused as to why the two were already at it, Lady Nova raised a brow at Moira as if to ask what all this was about.

"He's mad because I asked him to look after Ada!"

"Lady Moira, that's not-"

"Paybacks don't work the way you think, Severan!" Lady Moira retorted, "Just get the damn job done!"

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

"I see you have brought her here, unharmed," the voice said.

The Lord of Death's attention snapped in the direction of the sound, his eyes narrowing in anticipation. At the entrance of his opulent abode, there stood an old woman, but her age did little to diminish her radiant presence.

It had been two weeks since he stormed into Life HQ, determined to lodge a complaint about how disastrous his last assignment had been. Things, as usual, hadn't gone his way. And, as always, Lady Moira had come out on top.

The said lady was standing in front of him, draped in a long, resplendent gold dress that shimmered in the otherworldly light of his domain. Her silver hair was elegantly wound into a bun, and it was adorned with an ornate gold hair ornament that gleamed like a miniature sun.

A pleasant smile graced her wrinkled yet charming face. Her eyes, filled with ancient wisdom, seemed to hold the secrets of the universe. A confident aura enveloped her, radiating from every step she took as she stepped further into his domain. Her presence commanded attention and respect, even from the Lord of Death.

"I did as you asked," The Lord of Death replied, his voice tinged with a mix of obedience and defiance.

Lady Moira walked gracefully toward the girl lying on the couch. She softly and tenderly caressed the girl's hair, her eyes reflecting both compassion and something deeper that Devereaux couldn't quite put his finger on.

"I feel bad that she has to go through all of this," Lady Moira murmured, her voice tinged with the slightest of regeneration."But a diamond cannot be made without enduring the tremendous pressures and trials of life."

A profound silence blanketed the room as Lady Moira tending to the unconscious girl a bit more. Deveraux couldn't help but feel a growing unease, a sensation unfamiliar to one of his nature.

"It could have been anyone. Babysitting a mortal is no big deal." he inquired, a flicker of genuine worry marrying his typically stoic countenance.

Moira peered up from her place next to the mortal girl. "Whatever do you mean?"

Lady Moira had always been like this, handing him assignments that defied the logic of his existence and left him with no choice but to accept and proceed. He was often left to grumble and grudgingly fulfil them somehow.

Deveraux took contemplative breath. She was toying with him, and despite being the Lord of Death, a fearsome demon in his own right, he had little ground to stand on when dealing with Lady Moira.

Then again, it was all his fault. He had sided with Gagagore once. He had put this very mortal's life on the line - how could he even pledge allegiance to her anymore, knowing he had betrayed her? Though she wouldn't know, he had tried to correct himself by fighting against Gagagore, capturing him, and chaining him in an abandoned cave far beyond, a safe distance from the world. But it still wasn't enough. Apparently, paybacks didn't work that way.

"Why should it be me?" He trailed off, '...why should I be the one to get hurt all the time?

"You schemed this." Lady Moira responded with a feigned air of innocence, her eyes flecked with specks of gold and mischief, sparkled with an ageless charm. "Souls payback for their actions. That's how the balance is kept."

Deveraux's sigh deepened, "Of course."

Lady Moira smirked, finally standing up from her seat. "When you drop her back home, make sure she won't remember any of this. Nor me, nor you, nor The Land of Shadows. "