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Being Doom Incarnate sucked.
Jinx had said it a thousand times, but no one ever listened, not the Fates, not Vi, not even the skeletal bird perched on her shoulder that served as her divine assistant, emotional support creature (and possibly parole officer).
Everyone feared Death.
But no one wanted to see Doom.
Doom meant it was over. Final. Irreversible. No more what-ifs, no more bargaining, no final kiss goodbye. Doom was the last laugh before the lights went out. And Jinx? She was the punchline.
She hated it.
Most mortals pissed themselves when she arrived. Some threw things. Some tried to bribe her. Once, a guy wanted to marry her on the spot.
It’s why this was supposed to be a two-person job. Vi, Death Incarnate, was the steady hand, the merciful whisper, the calm at the end. She brought dignity to dying.
Jinx brought chaos, confusion, and occasionally fire.
But Vi wasn’t here.
“Oh come on,” Jinx groaned, yanking a soul out of a cackling witch who’d taken three children and a tax collector down with her. “You said one week. You promised. You pinky swore.”
Vi’s voice echoed from memory: “I’ll owe you a favor, anything, you name it. Just this once, alright? Caitlyn’s waiting, and I can’t blow her off again. She gets this look, you know?”
“Yeah, well, I get looks too,” Jinx muttered to herself as she dropped the soul, still muttering curses, into her cracked, glowing satchel. “Mostly the ‘oh gods it’s her, scream and die’ kind.”
She trudged across cracked ground and over mountain peaks, gathering the rest. Her duty was clear: collect the unanchored souls of the recently dead and pass them off to her brothers, Mylo and Claggor, Underworld Couriers Supreme.
Jinx couldn’t take them herself. She wasn’t allowed past the Styx. Seeing doom a second time could turn the soul to evil.
She made it to the exchange point by dusk, an old tree bent backward over a dry creek. Mylo lounged on a branch, flicking coins in the air, while Claggor leaned against the bark, arms crossed.
“You’re late,” Claggor said.
Jinx tossed the bag to the ground. “You’re welcome.”
The bag twitched.
Then it exploded open.
Thirty-three souls erupted in all directions—wailing, screeching, floating upward, scattering like sparks in a windstorm.
“NOPE,” Jinx yelled, diving after one and tackling it midair. “YOU COME BACK HERE, GHOSTFACE—I worked for you!”
Mylo slid down the tree, cackling. “Vi leaves you alone for one day, and you start a ghost stampede?”
“I didn’t do it on purpose!” Jinx snapped, biting the ankle of a particularly stubborn spirit as it tried to phase through a rock. “Bag's cracked again. And this one’s got teeth, by the way!”
Claggor sighed, snapping his fingers and calling for his sythe. With practiced movements, he began pulling the souls to the boat while Mylo grabbed the coin from them.
Jinx wiped her forehead with her sleeve and groaned, flopping back into the dirt. “This is the worst.”
“Don’t you still have more to collect?” Mylo asked, raising a brow.
Jinx groaned louder. “Vi owes me two favors now.”
Claggor shook his head. “You’re lucky we don’t report you to Silco and Vander for reckless soul handling.”
“Then you go talk to them,” Jinx huffed. “I’m not gonna explain why I dropkicked a priest’s ghost off a bell tower.”
Mylo grinned. “Sounds like you could use a break.”
“I could use a damn nap. But if I don’t collect souls, they'll corrupt, and that means more souls to collect.”
“Corrupted?” Mylo asked, alarmed.
“Yes, Mylo corrupted,” Jinx confirmed, eyes wide. “They get angry if their soul isn't collected on time, and depending on how they die, you can get some interesting ones like ThornWeepers, Caskets, Wailers. If I had the time, I would name every single thing a soul or souls could turn into, but I don't, because this crossroads is about to shut down, and time starts again, meaning these souls are back on a timer to avoid corruption. Remember Ephyra? Yeah, that will happen again if they get corrupted.”
She picked herself up, checked the (now dented) satchel, flipped off a lingering soul still trying to escape, and marched away.
Jinx hated her job.
She hated being Doom Incarnate.
But if she didn’t finish it, no one else would.
Jinx wandered for hours, her boots dragging, her skullbird squawking useless directions, her mood blackening like the clouds above.
Then, at the edge of nowhere, the cracked world gave way to gold.
A field of tall grass. Wildflowers. Sunlight.
Warmth.
Using her own powers of time, Jinx collapsed into the tall grass like a girl who hadn’t slept in a hundred years.
The grass whispered against her skin. The sun brushed over her like it hadn’t given up on her yet. And the air? Still. Not dead still, but quiet—peaceful, in a way that made her suspicious.
She pulled her knees to her chest, boots caked in underworld mud and ash, and stared at the sky.
"This blows," she muttered, chewing a stem of grass between her teeth. “Doom this, Doom that like I asked to be the walking embodiment of endtimes. Like I’m the bad guy for showin’ up when it’s already too late.”
No one answered her. That was the worst part.
Vi would’ve at least made a dumb joke. Mylo would’ve mimed getting eaten by a soul. Claggor would've shoved a protein bar in her mouth and told her to quit whining.
But they weren’t here.
Just her. And the bag. And the shades.
Always the shades.
“‘S what I get for being born last,” Jinx grumbled. “You get the leftovers. No glory. No cool sword. Just the scraps and the screams.”
She let the grass swallow her, arms spread wide. From above, she might’ve looked like a fallen star—burned out and half forgotten.
For a while, she just… stayed there.
She counted clouds.
She tried to whistle and failed.
She thought about what she’d spend Vi’s future favor on. Maybe a trip to the mortal world—get trashed, start a cult, name a bird after herself.
Something fun.
Then a new voice sliced through the hush, warm and curious and bright like morning cracking through shutters:
“You don’t seem very doomed.”
Jinx didn’t move. Just blinked. “…Oh, no.”
“I mean, unless this is some sort of dramatic end-of-days nap,” came the voice again—warm and teasing, like sunlight playing on a windowsill.
She cracked one eye open, then groaned.
Standing among the swaying grass, lit like the morning itself, was Luxanna. The goddess of the Dawn. Radiance incarnate. Hope in a pretty braid.
And precisely the kind of energy Jinx didn’t have the patience for right now.
“No offense,” Jinx muttered, “but you’re the last person I wanna see today.”
Lux tilted her head, amused. “You sure? Most people are pretty happy to see me.”
Jinx flopped onto her back with a dramatic sigh. “Yeah, well, most people aren’t Doom Incarnate.”
“Ohhh,” Lux said, voice softening. “Right. Jinx.”
She said the name like it meant something. Not a curse, not a warning. Just a name.
“Got it in one,” Jinx muttered. “Now, unless you’re here to smite me with radiant forgiveness or whatever, could you, like… let me sulk in peace?”
Lux didn’t leave.
Instead, she sat down quietly in the grass beside her.
Jinx blinked again, warily watching the taller goddess settle down, her long legs folding underneath her like sunbeams curling into place.
Then, Lux began plucking wildflowers. One by one. No grand explanation. No celestial speech.
“What are you doing?” Jinx asked.
“Making you something.”
“I don’t need radiant therapy.”
Lux laughed gently. “It’s not therapy. It’s a flower crown.”
Jinx sat up a little, arms loosely hugging her knees as she side-eyed the goddess. “You’re making me a flower crown?”
Lux didn’t look up, just kept weaving the stems with nimble fingers. “You’ve had a rough day. You deserve something nice.”
Jinx snorted. “I’m Doom. The world’s most polite death threat. I don’t get ‘nice.’ I get cold stares, locked doors, and the occasional sword through the gut.”
Lux shrugged lightly. “Everyone deserves one beautiful thing. Even Doom.”
She lifted the finished crown and gently placed it on Jinx’s head.
It wobbled a little—one side sagging awkwardly over her eye.
Jinx blinked up at her, deadpan. “You know this kinda kills my vibe, right?”
“Absolutely,” Lux said with a grin. “But since your with me right now, it works, you know?”
Jinx flushed—not blushing, not quite—but something heated buzzed just under her skin. She reached up and adjusted the crown, fingers brushing the petals carefully.
“…It’s not terrible,” she mumbled.
Lux smiled, brushing a bit of hair behind Jinx’s ear. “So. You’re collecting souls?”
Jinx sighed. “Yeah. Vi bailed for some Daughter of Athena she’s all obsessed with, so I’m on solo duty. Which, y’know. Super fun. Nothing screams ‘productive day’ like being screamed at by dead people while your bag breaks and your dignity dies.”
Lux laughed softly, a hand resting lightly on her knee. “Then let me help.”
Jinx looked at her, surprised. “Seriously?”
Lux nodded. “Every soul deserves to feel the light, even just for a moment. If you’re guiding them out, I can guide them through.”
Jinx hesitated. Stared down at the grass. At the flower crown now perched on her head. At the hand still gently resting near hers.
“…You're really weird.”
“I get that a lot,” Lux said with a wink.
“…Fine,” Jinx muttered, pushing herself to her feet. “But if one of them tries to eat your face, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
Lux stood too, brushing the grass from her skirt. “Deal. But I think you’ll find I’m harder to shake off than you think.”
As they set off side by side, sunlight painting their path and a flower crown bobbing on Jinx’s head, something settled in the air between them.
Not quite hope.
But maybe the start of it.
The first soul screamed when it saw her.
It had been lingering under a broken bridge—a mason who’d drowned trying to save a runaway cart. His spirit clung to the stone like lichen, face gaunt and wide-eyed, even in death.
And when Jinx stepped into view, sparks of underworld energy danced across her boots; the Skull Satchel glowed at her hip, and the soul recoiled in horror.
“Nno. Not yet. I’m not ready—please, not you—!”
Jinx didn’t even react. Just stuffed her hands in her pockets and muttered, “Right on cue.”
They always said the same thing.
You’re too early. You’re too cold. You’re not who I thought would come.
But Lux stepped past her, tall and unshaken—dawnlight trailing behind her like a long, slow breath.
She moved without fear. She never flinched.
Crouching before the ghost, Lux smiled gently, warm but solemn. “You’re afraid,” she said, her voice soft and steady. “But you’re not alone.”
The soul stared at her—at the light blooming in her hands, at the way her golden braids shimmered like the sky behind her.
Then, hesitantly, he looked at Jinx.
“She’s Doom,” he whispered.
Lux turned slightly to glance back—her height casting a shadow over Jinx, who raised a brow but said nothing.
“And I’m the light that walks with her,” Lux said firmly. “You can trust her. Just this once.”
The soul didn’t scream again. It didn’t even resist.
It simply drifted forward—like the fear had melted under sunlight—and slipped quietly into Jinx’s bag.
Jinx stared. “Huh.”
“You’re welcome,” Lux said, standing to her full height again, which was annoyingly majestic in the golden light.
Jinx frowned up at her. “Do you practice looking like an epic tapestry, or does it just happen when I’m around?”
“Little bit of both.”
The next soul—a grizzled warrior woman—nearly threw a phantom spear at Jinx.
The ghost’s eyes were wild. Her stance was iron. And the instant she saw Jinx step out from the mist, she snarled, “Stay back. I won’t go with you, daughter of Nyx.”
Jinx held up her hands. “Chill. I’m not here to smite you.”
“You smell like the last heartbeat.”
“…Yeah, well, you smell like wet iron and regret.”
Before it could escalate, Lux stepped forward, shoulders squared, long frame commanding but kind. She looked like the promise of another sunrise.
“No one’s forcing you,” she said, her voice calm but carrying. “But she’s not your enemy. She’s your way forward.”
The ghost’s hands trembled.
Then Lux reached out—not touching, but offering. Light danced across her fingers like a living thing.
“You don’t have to be afraid of the dark when you’re walking toward the dawn.”
It wasn’t quick, but it worked.
The warrior’s ghost flickered, the tension left her face, and she gave Jinx a wary nod before dissolving into the satchel.
“See?” Lux said, stepping back beside Jinx, towering half a head over her.
Jinx looked up at her sideways. “Okay, tall girl. I’ll admit… you’re a cheat code.”
“I prefer ‘complementary divine force.’”
“I prefer cheat code.”
By the time they reached the orchard, the pattern had formed.
Lux would step ahead, tall and golden and glowing, her light gentle and persuasive. She crouched down to talk to ghost children eye-to-eye, but when she stood—taller than Jinx by a full head—she looked like the horizon walking.
Jinx didn’t mind it. Not really.
Okay—maybe she noticed it more than she should have.
Like when Lux nudged her shoulder playfully, and Jinx nearly staggered from the force of it.
Or when they stopped at a stream, and Lux casually leaned on a tree branch above Jinx’s head, casting long shadows across her without meaning to.
“You’re like a giant sunflower,” Jinx muttered once, arms crossed. “All radiant and uncomfortably tall.”
Lux looked down at her, grinning. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
“I didn’t say it was.”
They shared a quiet moment, and for the first time since this whole ridiculous detour began, Jinx didn’t feel like the monster in the room.
She felt like a person.
Even if that person had to crane her neck to meet Lux’s eyes.
The Underworld droppoint had changed, but was also similar at the same time.
A different crooked tree hunched over a different dry creek. Same whispering air that tasted like metal and endings. Same gray, yawning horizon where the Styx began its slow crawl toward the gates of the underworld.
But this time, Jinx didn’t show up alone.
“Alright, weirdos,” she muttered, adjusting the bag over her shoulder, which now glowed faintly with a golden sheen where Lux’s light had touched it. “You two had better be ready. I brought the whole afterparty.”
From the base of the tree, Claggor looked up, arms crossed as always.
Perched in the tree’s branches, Mylo leaned lazily on his elbow, coins flicking between his fingers.
They were mid-conversation when Jinx stepped into view.
Mylo grinned. “Well, look who finally remembered how time works. You’re—”
Then he saw her shadow.
Not just the skullsatchel. Not just the jagged hair and the aftershock hum of doom energy trailing behind her.
But the tall, radiant figure walking beside her.
Luxanna. Goddess of the Dawn.
Her presence shimmered like a second sunrise. Her bare feet barely made a sound in the dust. Her braid caught the light and tossed it everywhere.
Mylo’s sentence died in his throat.
Claggor stood a little straighter.
“…Okay,” Mylo said after a pause, blinking fast. “Are we seeing the same thing?”
“Yep,” Claggor said.
“That’s Lux.”
“Uhhuh.”
“With Jinx.”
“Yep.”
“Willingly.”
“Apparently.”
Lux offered a pleasant smile and a slight bow. “Hello. I hope we’re not late.”
Jinx snorted. “We literally can’t be—we live in the land of never o’clock.”
Claggor’s eyes shifted between them, visor low. “…You good?”
“I’m great,” Jinx replied, stepping forward and dropping the satchel with a heavy whump. “Got all of them. No corruption. No catastrophic failure.”
She paused.
“Okay, one bard tried to haunt a sheep, but we handled it.”
Mylo slid down the tree and opened the bag carefully, souls drifting out in soft, golden spirals, peaceful and calm, as they handed their coin to him.
He whistled low. “They’re... quiet.”
“They didn’t scream,” Claggor said, surprise flickering in his voice.
“They always scream.”
“They didn’t today,” Lux said gently.
Claggor’s gaze flicked back to her. “Why?”
Jinx spoke up before Lux could. “Because she came with me.”
She kicked a pebble into the creekbed, avoiding their looks. “Turns out if you show up with literal hope and morning light, people don’t think you're here to chew their soul and spit it into the void.”
Mylo stared at her. “So… the goddess of the Dawn went soul-collecting with you.”
“Yep.”
“Voluntarily.”
“Did you bribe her?”
“No.”
“Blackmail?”
“She offered.”
Mylo looked at Claggor. “We gotta be in some weird divine prank.”
“I don't think the Fates are that funny,” Claggor muttered.
Lux gave a light laugh. “I just saw someone who needed help.”
Jinx blinked, caught off guard by how casually Lux said it.
Mylo, meanwhile, narrowed his eyes. “So what are you two now? Partners?”
“Don’t say it like that,” Jinx grumbled.
Lux tilted her head. “Why not?”
Jinx looked up at her—up, like always—and for a second, she couldn’t find the snark.
“…You’re not gonna vanish after this, are you?” she asked, more serious than she meant to be.
Lux smiled. “Not unless you want me to.”
There was a pause.
Mylo leaned over and whispered to Claggor, “They’re partners.”
“Shut up,” Jinx barked, turning red and hurling a rock at him.
He ducked.
Lux just laughed.
The souls drifted into the boat of the underworld couriers, calm and complete.
And Jinx, for the first time in a long while, didn’t feel like the ending of a story.
Mylo and Claggor had disappeared down the Styx, muttering something about getting hazard pay if Jinx kept bringing divine surprises.
Now, it was just the two of them again—Doom and Dawn, side by side beneath the twisted old tree, where the grass tried to grow even on cursed soil.
The light had shifted, just barely.
The sun—Lux’s sun—was starting to slip behind the edge of the world.
Jinx kicked a rock into the creekbed and folded her arms. “Guess that’s your cue.”
Lux tilted her head toward the horizon. “Mmm. Almost.”
The wind rolled softly through the tall grass. Golden streaks curved along the edges of Lux’s face like the sun was reluctant to leave her behind.
They stood there in silence for a while.
Not an awkward silence.
Just… full.
Jinx finally broke it with a grunt. “That was kinda nice, y’know.”
Lux glanced down at her. “Which part?”
Jinx rolled her eyes. “Don’t make me say it.”
Lux’s smile grew. “The souls?”
“…Sure.”
“The ghost dog?”
“Alright, that one was fun.”
Lux chuckled, then looked back out across the darkening sky. “I haven’t walked the world like this in a long time. I think I forgot how beautiful endings can be… when someone’s willing to share them.”
Jinx shrugged, but her voice softened. “You made it easier.”
“You did the same.”
“You make people want to go. That’s Vi’s thing… It's new for me.”
Lux looked at her again, eyes full of gold and something warmer still. “You made them feel safe, Jinx. Even when they were afraid.”
Jinx stared at the ground. “I’m not used to that.”
“You should get used to it,” Lux said. “It suits you.”
The last of the sunlight began to fade, the horizon blushing one final time before slipping into twilight. Lux’s glow started to dim gently, a halo dissolving into the evening mist.
She turned toward the rising shadow path behind her.
Jinx frowned. “…So that’s it?”
Lux paused. “For now.”
Jinx scuffed her boot. “Will I… I mean—will I see you again?”
That crack in her voice annoyed her more than anything else.
Lux didn’t answer with words at first.
Instead, she stepped in close—taller, always taller, like light standing over fire—and leaned down to kiss Jinx.
Soft.
Warm.
Sure.
Jinx didn’t move for a breath.
Then her fingers gripped Lux’s cloak, just enough to say Don’t rush this.
When they finally parted, Lux smiled against her lips and whispered,
“Of course. Because I’m the dawn.”
And then she was gone.
A flare of light.
A final warmth.
And nothing but the scent of sunlit grass where she’d stood.
Jinx looked after her, lips still tingling, a hundred halfthoughts spinning through her brain.
Eventually, she sighed.
“…Drama queen.”
But her grin lingered well into the night, even when Vi teleported back to her.
Vi narrowed her eyes like she was looking at a puzzle that didn’t quite fit.
“You wanna go solo… again?”
Jinx swung one leg over her satchel and flopped dramatically onto the table of the underworld dispatch hut. “Yup.”
“You sure you’re feeling okay?” Vi asked, arms crossed, brow furrowed. “No smoke leaking out of your ears? No soul residue up the nose?”
Jinx blinked innocently. “What, I can’t be responsible all of a sudden?”
Vi stared. “Last time I left you alone, you accidentally started a ghost knifefight over a muffin stand.”
“Allegedly. And that ghost cheated.”
“And now you’re volunteering for soul rounds without me?”
Jinx leaned back with a smirk. “Times change. People grow. I’m evolving.”
Vi narrowed her eyes further, clearly not buying it. “Uhhuh. Who are you, and what have you done with my emotionally unstable sister?”
“Vi,” Jinx said, voice flat. “You literally ditched me to go play goddess smooch with your girlfriend.”
“She’s not a goddess, she’s a—”
“Daughter of Athena, same hat.”
Vi opened her mouth to argue—then stopped, blinking. Her head tilted slightly.
From the distance—just outside the dispatch gates, carried on a beam of fresh golden light—came a voice:
“Jinx? Are you ready?”
It was warm.
Uplifting.
Impossible to ignore.
Vi turned, jaw halfway open, as Luxanna strolled calmly into view, dawnlight blooming behind her like a polite explosion. Her hair shimmered in braids down her shoulders, and she looked freshly divine, like she hadn’t just returned from a trip through haunted woods and bone fields.
Vi blinked. “Is that—?”
Jinx was already off the table and dusting herself off like it was a typical Tuesday.
“Yup.”
“And she’s the reason you’re volunteering?”
“Wouldn’t you?” Jinx grinned, sauntering past Vi with a bounce in her step.
Vi blinked. “You hate field work.”
Jinx glanced over her shoulder, smirking. “I hate field work alone.”
Lux caught her hand as she reached the gate. “You didn’t make me wait long this time.”
“Didn’t want you getting bored.”
Lux smiled.
Vi just stared.
“…Did you two—?” she started, then shook her head. “You know what, I don’t wanna know.”
Lux turned and offered a gentle wave. “Hello, Vi.”
“…Hi?” Vi answered, almost on autopilot.
And just like that, Doom and Dawn vanished down the road together—light and shadow wrapped in playful banter and unspoken glances.
Vi stood alone in the dispatch hut for another beat before finally muttering,
“…Okay, this is definitely gonna be paperwork.”