Chapter 39: Universe Reset Button? Nah, Just Swallow This

I felt nothing. I saw nothing. Everything was a thick, delicious kind of dark.

“I knew you’d pull something daft, but I was hoping you’d at least entertain me a little longer, you know?” said a familiar, spectral voice inside that nothing.

Suddenly my body reassembled itself on a completely different plane — I was floating in the middle of the dark, but I could see. Standing before me was the avatar of Death.

“Mr. Grimmy McDrama-Cape,” I said, amusement sharp on my tongue. “Long time. I see you still dress the same. Don’t you ever get tired of hiding your face under that cape? After so many eons wearing it, it must smell like corpses. But hey — you’re Death, what do I know about whether corpses smell bad or not?”

Mr. Grimmy McDrama-Cape ignored me completely.

“So you burned through the last drop of your power, your being, your soul, just to consume yourself and die on purpose. Why?” he asked.

“Didn’t you see my little magic number with the box? Truly worthy of the finest mages, right? Now you see a giant skeletal chicken and… poof! Now you don’t!” I kept taunting, grinning even in that black.

“I do not understand why you find this amusing,” Mr. Grimmy McDrama-Cape said.

“Simple, my bony friend. You don’t know which spells I etched into that box, do you?”

“Not the faintest idea,” he replied in a serious tone. “The only thing that matters to me is that you have lost ‘the game,’” he sighed heavily. “Very well. I will reset the universe again, but today I will have to see ‘Life,’ and once more she will start her tiresome little victory song… she is dreadfully insufferable,” he said. “And all because of you.”

“Oh no — you shouldn’t speak of your wife like that, especially if she’s also your sister. Honestly, it’s disgusting,” I said with a snort. “But wait, Mr. Grimmy McDrama-Cape — you promised me that whether I won or lost, you would introduce me to her.”

“Suit yourself…” he said, turning on his heel.

When he did, a woman stepped out from behind where Death had been — a lithe figure in white, a hooded cloak hiding her face the same way his did. She moved like someone who enjoyed being watched: light, mocking, and utterly sure of the audience.

“Hello, Rissa,” she chimed, twirling toward me with the sort of dancer’s ease that made the void around us look like a stage. Her voice was bright and teasing, a bell with a razor under it. “At last we meet.”

Well, that was dramatic. I should have expected theatrics. “Oh, look,” I said, letting my sarcasm bloom like poison flowers. “This is a surprise. Very original. Two hooded siblings popping out of cosmic wardrobe boxes. Cute trick. Also, if you stand one behind the other like that, I have a ton of... logistical questions.

But no, not why I came all the way here. I’m not here for family counseling.” I shrugged, feigning casualness that felt thinner than the fabric between us.

She ignored me—seems to be a family trait—and smiled in the small, terrible way of someone who thinks the world is an amusing puzzle. “Tell me, Rissa,” the Avatar of Life said, stepping forward so the light around her seemed to ripple, “what did you do to the box? My brother claims he enjoys a joke, but he is dreadfully dull about it. He insists on calling everything by ‘the game’ and then sighs like an ancient librarian. I, however, find delight in surprises. And you—you made a very good one, did you not?”

Her eyes, when she tipped her head, were not unkind. They were curious, like a cat that has found a new toy it intends to dismantle for sport. For a moment I could have sworn she was amused — not maliciously, but with the small bright amusement of someone watching a storm to see where it hits.

“Good?” I echoed, letting the word hang between us like smoke. “If by ‘good’ you mean ‘entirely irresponsible and mildly entertaining,’ then yeah, bravo. If you mean ‘ingenious and universe-thread-snappingly dangerous,’ then I’ll take that compliment too.” I felt a grin—real, tired—curl at my lips despite the dark. “So, Mrs. Life-and-Also-Incestuous-Sister, if you insist, I’ll tell you.

“You saw my pet Cluckles, yes? That giant skeletal hen that hopped into the box?” I began, warm amusement curling in my voice. “The box was reinforced—airtight, magically insulated, ridiculously sturdy on the outside, and warded to resist energy condensation on the inside. Very cozy. Very thankless.”

The Avatar of Life drew closer, eyes sharpening with interest. Her smile fluttered like a moth. “Mm,” she said, almost purring. “Do go on.”

“Of course I made it so only I can open it,” I continued. “No other hands, no clever keys, no divine backdoors. I put Cluckles in, then I poured an infinite spell into that box—spent my soul, which, funnily enough, is infinite. Cluckles is undead and shares a sliver of my soul, so she will die… and then revive, and die, and revive, forever. But I didn’t stop there. I folded the box into another dimension. Only I know where. If your husband is right and you two have been resetting the universe so many times that ‘infinite’ is a grain of sand on a beach, then good luck finding that pocket without a map. Impossible even for you unless I tell you.”

Life hovered, puzzling at the logic, one finger to her chin. “But why would we care of a creature in perpetual suffering?” she asked, genuinely puzzled, like a child wondering about odd hobbies.

“Ah—that’s the beauty,” I said, chest puffing with pride. I pointed at her as if unveiling a masterpiece. “Because Cluckles shares my soul. My soul—according to Grimmy—has an annoying capacity to generate entropy, to grow more absurdly powerful through the repetition of resurrection. What happens to Cluckles, then? The same. She will accumulate power with each death and rebirth. The difference? She’s a giant skeletal chicken, and by the way, very dumb. She’ll feed on that loop of power until one day she bursts out of that box and—boom—time’s party is over.”

Life took a visible step back, understanding dawning like frost. She blinked at me, unsettled.

I closed the distance between us, grin sharpening into something far less pleasant. My face was a mask of glee and menace as I leaned so close her breath would have tingled on my skin if there were any air to tingle. “Can you picture it?” I whispered. “A chicken, roasting and rising, roasting and rising—an infinite rotisserie of power. And when it finally walks out? It’ll unmake you two like a bad haircut. No more Life, no more Death, nothing left but a silence big enough to drown galaxies. No existance.”

“Life” said nothing. She trembled—literally. And then, like someone embarrassed by the sound of their own breath, she vanished.

Behind me a laugh erupted—maniacal, lunatic, as pleased with itself as any of my own.

It was Mr. Grimmy McDrama-Cape, clutching his hood as if it were a belly full of jokes. He was bent over, shaking with mirth.

“I love it!!!” he gasped between howls. “Rissa, you are brilliant!! When I thought I had lost another round, you stroll in and win it for us! Hahahahaha!” He cackled like a mad thing, the sound ricocheting through the dark.

I stared at him. “Wait—what? I won?” I said, because brains are funny and sometimes I forget how to use mine when the universe collapses for kicks.

“Oh, yes,” Death said, still chuckling. “You didn’t know the rules of the game in this world. Hilarious! This round’s theme was mine—create a prank that rattles both Life and Death. Make them feel something. You did. You threatened existence itself with a monstrous skeletal chicken. Who even thinks of that? Hahahahahaha!”

I blinked. “Right. So I win. What do I get? A medal? Eternal bragging rights? Twenty percent off on doomsday funerary plans?”

Grimmy wiped tears from whatever counted as his eyes. “No, no—prizes are boring. The point is—well—chaos, amusement, proof that even the cosmos can be tickled. And also… you’ve earned whatever you ask for. Which is, admittedly, terrifying in all sorts of delightful ways.”

“Seriously?” I asked, because the universe apparently has a warped sense of humor.

“Seriously,” he said, still snickering. “I won’t even make you deactivate the roast-chicken-from-hell. That’s hilarious. If my sister’s terrified, even better. Hahaha—brilliant!”

I rolled my eyes. “Look, I don’t want to linger in this pitch-black funhouse. How you two endure this eternal echo chamber is beyond me. Put me back. I want to finish living like Rissa.” My voice had the tired edge of somebody who’d already burned three cities and still wanted dessert. “As for Cluckles—fine. I’ll deactivate her the day I die, but I’m not signing up for any more comebacks. Find someone else to play herald. I’m dangerous enough as it is.”

Grimmy straightened, the laughter draining out of him into something oddly solemn. “Done,” he intoned.

“Good.” I inhaled, tasting nothing and everything. Then, because theatrics are my religion and because the little things matter, I added, “One last thing.”

“Hmm?” Death asked, suspicious now.

“Open your mouth,” I said, flat.

He blinked as if he found the command quaint. “Why—?”

He never finished asking. I shoved the silver ring—my ring, the one I’d worn since I was seven, the one Death himself had given me long ago—straight down his throat. It slid in with the cold, metallic certainty of something that had been waiting to be used. Grimmy grabbed at his hood, coughing and stumbling, surprise splintering across his unseen face.

He hacked and choked, a sound like dry leaves in a tomb. The void shivered. The laughter died. For one breathless heartbeat everything lurched, like a ship missing its mooring.

Then the world snapped.

I gasped. Real air filled my lungs, raw and sharp as truth. Light stabbed my closed eyelids. I was back in a bed—my bed—sweat cooling on my skin, the taste of iron and wine in my mouth. My hands moved and found my chest and there it was: a stubborn, hot thing trying to keep up. My soul wasn’t being siphoned anymore; it felt whole and ridiculous and gloriously mine.

I laughed—a short, incredulous sound, half sob, half victory. I had poked gods, shoved a ring down an avatar’s throat, and come back to claim my life. Grimmy and his sister could argue their cosmic games over tea while I finished mine properly, this time I won.