She paused in the doorway to survey the mess, expecting to feel upset by the sight of the ravaged remains.
She didn't. If anything, there was a small sense of satisfaction at knowing those who betrayed her and Gabriel had been served their justice by a demon.
As Death, she'd seen every kind of death possible, from the peaceful passing of a human in its sleep to the slaughter of genocide and the remains of a natural disaster.
This … this didn't bother her. What bothered her: feeling as if it should. Wondering how long she had until she ended up torn into pieces like those in the room. Suspecting no one would mourn her, once she was gone.
"Cupcake!" Jared called.
Past-Death moved away from the doorway, uncertain how she was supposed to think about her world. "It's on your right, Jared."
He turned to face the wall and stared.
"Maybe you can't see it because you're a demon," she explained.
"Very well. Open it."
"Grab a torch." She went to the door only she was able to see and tugged it open. Taking his arm, she led him into the narrow tunnel and closed the door behind them. "See?"
"Where does it go?" Jared asked, looking around.
"It used to go wherever I wanted it to. Hopefully it still does," she replied. Releasing him, she rested a hand on the wall. "To the armory, please."
The sound of stone shifting and grating reached them as the palace responded. Pleased to know she had some influence still, Past-Death smiled at the darkness before them and waited for the sounds to stop before starting forward. The small gesture did little to soothe the gnawing despair at her core, but it was something.
From the corner of her eye, she caught a spark of turquoise, like the glow of a tiny lamp, or the gem she'd seen in the ring in the dungeon.
"Come on," Jared said when she lingered.
Nothing was there. Shaking her head, past-Death trailed him.
They walked in near darkness for close to ten minutes before light edging a doorway appeared ahead of them. They reached it and paused.
Jared handed her the torch and bag.
Past-Death stood back as he opened the door and leapt into the room, ready for a fight.
He straightened, looking around. "This is not the armory. This is … awful."
She followed him into the room. Before she set foot into the bright space, the overwhelming scent of food reached her.
"Thank god!" she gasped, breathing in the scents of savory pies and sweets. "I guess I was more interested in food than the armory." She shoved the torch and bag at him.