Chapter Text
Rio Vidal was Death—and she’d seen such beautiful displays of killing, maiming, and murder throughout the eons. Those were her favorite, really; she loved a good massacre. The occasional plague was enjoyable as well, but those kept her annoyingly busy, and they were rather dull. Sickness, death, sickness, death, it was monotonous.
But tonight, as the blood moon hung low in the sky, bathing the world in its radiant glow, Rio felt the call of death leading her to Salem. It was a small town, by any means, but she supposed most of them were. Simple towns filled with simple people…well, usually.
Salem was a special place, where witches resided in a large coven, their true identities hidden from the humans of the town. Or, there had been a coven, just minutes prior, but they were alive no longer as Rio stepped into the clearing and out of the shadows of the forest.
The sight made her lips slip into a grin as she peered down at the bodies. They were shriveled, decayed, and, more interestingly, completely drained of their magic—she’d never quite seen anything like it. And that was rare. That was exciting.
Finally, something fun.
However, there weren’t just dead bodies in the clearing surrounding a slightly charred pyre—there was a girl, likely no older than sixteen. And, oh, she was a sight to behold, and Death had seen many.
Tears still stained her pale cheeks, yet she was no longer crying. She was silent, quiet, as she stared down at the body of her mother, and Rio could see her eyes clearly. Cold and hardened from years of pain, yet there was a depth to them that even Rio didn’t understand. However, while her expression made Rio curious, it wasn’t what drew her attention the most.
It was the girl’s power. Raw, uncontrolled energy that seemed to surround her, interwoven with her very soul. It was beautiful .
Death paused her collection of souls, ignoring the thousands of calls if only for a moment. Carefully, delicately, she tore down her veil, allowing the mortal before her to see that she was there.
“Tell me your name,” were the first words to slip past her tongue and the girl startled, her head snapping up to face her.
“Who are you,” the girl asked, a demand more than a question, her hands raised protectively in front of her. Purple magic pulsed like a drum in time with the girl’s heartbeat, its aura surrounding her, and Death imagined that most mortals would be afraid by such a display. But, alas, Death was no mortal.
Rio laughed, and the girl’s eyes narrowed as if she hadn’t been expecting such a reaction. Her mouth opened once more, likely to ask yet another question, but before she could, Death was before her with a finger to her lips.
“I won’t ask again,” Rio said, her voice tinged with impatience, and the girl’s eyes widened slightly as she realized who was before her.
“Agatha Harkness,” she whispered, and Rio couldn’t help but smile as the girl stood straighter. Bold. “And you’re Death.”
“Yes, and you’ve gifted me quite the number of bodies tonight,” Rio said, gesturing vaguely to the dead coven.
“They tried to kill me first,” the girl, no, Agatha, said, almost defensively, but Rio just clicked her tongue.
“Oh, I don’t care about that,” Rio said, her voice a purr as she slipped a finger under Agatha’s chin, lifting it. “I’m more intrigued with your technique, and, well, you .”
“What’s so interesting about me?” Agatha asked, curious as to why an entity such as Death wanted to know about her.
But Rio didn’t answer her and stepped back with a wolfish grin, a dagger appearing in her hand from thin air. Rio’s time had been spent, and now Death had to continue her work.
“We’ll meet again,” Death said, her words a promise of the inevitable. “Although, for your sake, I do hope it's not to collect you.”
“I won’t die so easily,” Agatha said, her tone carrying with it a fierceness that made Rio that much more captivated.
Death loved a good challenge.
However, before the urge to stay and dissect the girl before her overwhelmed her, Rio bid her goodbye, returning to the shadows of her domain.
Agatha watched her go, surrounded by the cold bodies of her coven, and smiled. For as much as Death was fascinated with her, Agatha was just as intrigued.
And if Death liked her gifts, she would keep giving. If only to see her again.