"Put that thing back where it came from, or so help me...!"

The halls of ice quivered as the demon laughed, a low tone of bass rattling stone and bone alike.

It paused, for a moment, as the figure looked to the other, before bursting into laughter again, harder than before. The booming laughter echoed through the twisting halls, overcoming the wails of the damned and the gnashing of teeth.

I am being serious, Ahpuch, the other spoke, their soft voice piercing through all noise. I require your help.

The laughter died swiftly, as the named demon stared down the speaker. And you shall not receive it. I remember what you did, Azrael. I know what you have done. The demon leaned forward, revealing a scarred wound. The only reason I do not strike you down here and now is the promise we had, back before the Fall.

Then for the sake of that promise, then. I ask of you, please.

Ahpuch gave a snort. Even if I were so keen to rekindle our prior friendship, as I said: I know what you have done. I will not shield you from Father's wrath.

Ahpuch, please--

No. Ahpuch leaned forward again, staring down the diminutive figure. You broke the Laws, Azrael. You struck down a demon in cold blood. Further, you have tempted many of my kin to their demise. Purposefully.

Then you know how desperate I am to come to you for help.

Ahpuch looked to Azrael, the two staring each other down for some time. Ahpuch gave a grim smile, stating, Then I suppose you will expect my high demands?

Indeed.

Ahpuch nodded, then thought. The demon finally decided on their demands, proclaiming them to the angel.

Then I would demand of you, your power. I would demand of you, your strength. I would demand of you, your domain over death. Give me these, and I will take on your role. I will take on your responsibilities. I will even take on your ward.

Demands made, the demon stood, extending a hand to the angel. A symbol formed in flame upon Ahpuch's hand, enveloping it the chains of contract. Azrael paused for a moment, before taking in a deep breath, and clasping the hand. The flame spread to his hand, searing the symbol in, scars forming as chains wrapped around his arm.

I accept your terms.

As the words were finished, Azrael gave a grimace of pain as the powers he held we lost, strength draining from his body. His divine glow lessened, until the only remnants of his being an angel were the dim halo above his head and wings upon his back.

Ahpuch, contract completed, inhaled the divine power, relishing in the unique flavor of its feeling. So long, it had been, since he had held such power.

Ah, I had missed this. Starting from now, as promised, I shall take on your role, your responsibilities, and ward.

Before Azrael could respond, Ahpuch lurched forward, using his newfound power to move at a speed the powerless angel could not match. The clawed hand found it's way cleanly through skin and bone to grasp around the angel's heart.

Wha--!

Azrael could not finish the sentence, as he coughed up blood. Ahpuch made his decree, as the divine power demanded.

Azrael, for your infractions upon the Laws of Father, He has deemed it fit for your destruction. Ne'er again shall ye serve Him, and ne'er shall you serve the whims of Hell.

The demon then kissed the angel once upon each cheek upon his face, telling him earnestly,

Goodbye, my old friend.

Then heart was torn asunder from body, as Azrael stumbled back, grasping at the hole in his chest. The angel reached out, unable to speak through the choking blood, as the beating heart slowed. The life continued to drain, the shock permeating on his face, as the beating came to a stop, before the body followed, falling still upon the ice.

Ahpuch watched the entire process, watching with a mixture of glee and sadness. While Azrael had done them wrong, he had been a good friend, once. Ahpuch decided it would only be right to keep some reminders of his friend. The demon reached down, ripping the halo and wings from their places, grafting them to his own being. They then ripped open their own ribcage, placing the angel's heart next to their own, grafting in into their body. Reminders taken, and power absorbed, them on looked away from the decaying body to the above Earth and Heaven, giving a smile.

Now then, let us meet this ward you have left me, Azrael.

"So, what's the big idea?"

I snapped out of my star-filled stupor enough to recognize that Speedster, the actual Speedster, was talking to me.

"Uh, holy shit. Sorry. But, uh, what do you mean?"

"This is your package, yeah?"

I double check the address, and the name. Sure enough, it's my package. "Uh, yeah."

"And you made this order at 11:55pm?"

Weird line of questioning, but whatever. "I only made it a few minutes ago, yeah."

"And you requested same-day delivery?"

This is kinda weird. Is he mad? "Yeah, came free with the purchase."

"So... what's the big idea?!"

Oh, he is mad. Why is he mad? "I...needed this package?"

"You needed this package? You needed it enough to send some boys from out-of-state to deliver it? In five minutes?!"

I chew on the words for a moment. Does he...think I expected this package tonight? Did the delivery guys think so?

"What, got nothing to say for yourself?

Surely not. Surely this is just a misunderstanding. "Look, I don't know if I've said something to offend you, Speedster, sir. I just..."

"You've offended me by expecting a delivery in five minutes across state lines! You've...!"

Speedster carries on for a few moments, but brain tunes him out as I make a horrible connection. I don't want to believe it. And maybe it's not completely true. Maybe this is just a weak point; after all it is two past midnight and the Speedster is only human... presumably. But still, a seed of a question is planted, perhaps ruining the visage of my favorite super hero ever:

Is Speedster actually an idiot?

I hold up a hand to stop Speedster, interrupting. "Sorry, Speedster. I think I see what's going on now. You've assumed, I'm guessing, that I was expecting this package tonight, as in, before midnight. And, I'm thankful to you for doing so, it is a big help. But that's not the case. I was expecting this by the end of day tomorrow. Er, today. Whatever. I wanted this package expedited, but I know how this stuff generally works. I'm not an idiot, I know it's a long way from the shop to here."

The Speedster looked flummoxed for a moment, before looking stoically embarrassed. "Well...it's still a trip those poor workers have to take. They don't get paid nearly enough for something like that!"

"Then it sounds like you're talking to the wrong guy. I'd be more than willing to pay extra if it meant the delivery folks got paid better, and before you said something, I assumed they were paid well."

Speedster seemed to open his mouth to say something, before closing it in embarrassment.

"Listen, I'm not about to say anything about our conversation. I don't need that in my life, and honestly, I'm a huge fan. I just would like to ask for one small favor..."

Speedster looked me over, before giving a sigh. "And what might that be?"

"Could I get a selfie? No one will ever believe that I met the Speedster if I didn't!"

I have been here longer than I care to know.

Not that I remember how long I have been here, as each bowl I drink erases the memory of the last. That, I believe, is the reason I am here; an urge to drink of the water from this cool, still pool. An urge to purge that of the old self, so that the new may be forged.

It is nicer than heaven, honestly, to know that everything I was and had been will no longer be; that there is only the uncertainty of the future. I suppose it is excitement for this that causes me to swallow what I assume is bowl after bowl of the cool water, with only the water soaking my clothes being the only clue that I have been here more than once.

And I stand here, drinking of the water, forgetting who I am, and who I was, over and over and over. Because there is one memory that remains. It haunts my mind, a reminder of who I was, preventing me from who I will be.

It is revolting, and vile, and I hate it.

Each time I remember, I hate the memory more, and hate myself even moreso. Of my foolishness, of my deficiencies. It is the stone that weighs me down, that drowns me, pulling me deeper away from the surface.

So I drink, and forget, and remember, and hate, and then drink.

An unending cycle.

If the promise of this pool is better than heaven, this is a punishment worse than hell. I am sure that I have cursed whatever power has put me here to a host of promises of wrath and violence each cycle. Though, each cycle I am certain that I have come to the same conclusion that there is no power that has put me here. There is only myself. So drink I must.

To purge this horrid memory, to rid myself of this plague.

For if I must remember that day I told the waitress "you too" when she said "enjoy your food" a single time more, I will certainly go mad.

Isekai'd into another world that is exactly the same as the old one, with one minor, but discernable, difference.

Many say the elves are cold, callous, and unfeeling. Deviod of any amount of emotion, only allowing logic and reason to dictate their actions.

This, of course, is as true as saying that the orcs are savages, or that the dwarves are drunkards, or that humans are special. It is understandable why one would think such things, when only looking on the surface of the society; but shatters instantly on closer inspection.

All the same, it is my heart that shatters hearing my dearest cry. Her beautiful voice wailing, intruded by sobs. My Rós, my precious Rós; succumbed to a sadness I cannot fix.

For so painful, is the truth.

My love, my Rós, weeps and wails for the day that has not yet come, but will as certain as winter. The day of my last breath, of my last words. Moreso, the day of our children to be last breath, and hers continuing.

I know not what to say, at first; for my mind wanders much further than hers. For I know the truth, the real truth, the truth she does not know. The worst day will not be my last breath, nor that of our children to be.

The worst day will be when we forget her name.

Living, breathing; but only in body. The mind, long gone. Memories, long forgotten. Even the body, technically alive, sorts into a cruel decay before the final rattle given. Only a breathing, beating corpse, living by the barest extension of the word.

Long I have thought to take my last breath before such things occurred.

But for now, I cannot think of such things. For now, I must tend to my Rós. I hold her, and let her wail, let her expunge the emotions of her thoughts now realized. I wait, patiently, for her sobs to relinquish enough for her to ask me if it is wrong to feel such a way.

No, I tell her, there is no shame in her emotion.

She asks what she should do, come the day.

Mourn, I tell her, but not a moment sooner.

It's not fair, she tells me.

It's not, I tell her. But it is life.

There's so little time, she says.

Then we should enjoy it, I respond.