Chapter Text
Kristin had been there for every chain that had shattered. Had watched them shake, growing brittle without a bishop to uphold the bond, a crown to source their power from, and explode into the faint outlines of a forest not of her lands.
The last chain to shatter had felt more...foreboding than the others.
A loud *clang*, then a door glowing *red* with energy from her own crown, from ~her~ *his* will, and a glowing light blinding her once the debris of the door had settled, and it was done.
She had defeated the bishops, had followed them to their temples like a wolf stalking its wounded prey, had dealt the last blow to each and every single one of that wretched group.
And now it was finally time to free the god that had sponsored her revenge.
The one that *truly* owned the crown floating not an inch above her head.
The one who had waited for her to finish the godly task he had bestowed upon her.
Kristin had taken her time walking up the stairs, and only sped up once she passed the gate and saw the long gateway leading to her gods realm.
It was..calmer.. than she had envisioned. Ancient pillars framed the overgrown path she was walking along, crumbling in all the wrong places, like someone had deliberately tried to bring them down.
A sea of candles framed each of their bases, some long gone dark, others lit like it had been just yesterday that this temple had been the domain of *Philza*, God Of Death.
Her walk ended faster than she might have liked, pathway opening up into a bigger chamber, not unlike the ones the bishops had occupied during their final battles.
But where theirs had been gleaming with riches, an air of constant hustle and bustle of appeasing followers in every corner, here it was almost peaceful.
There was a large pond in the center of the room, framed by candles.
It was perfectly round, edges carefully crafted with bricks laid by devoted hands, and at the very middle of it was a small platform, etched with a teleportation rune.
Well.
Then.
This was it.
She would enter her god's domain, hand back ~her~ *the* crown, watch him absorb ~her~ *its* power, and dutifully follow him back to ~their~ *his* cult, ready to be his second in command.
It was-
*It would be a fine life.*
She remembered the Witnesses the other bishops had held, the way that their lairs laden with the finest silks, dressed in damn near *floating* robes in the deepest colours, riches her followers had hardly dared to dream of. She remembers watching them in preparation for her oncoming attacks, watching the way that followers had flocked to their feet to ask questions about their respective bishops will.
It would be a *good* life, it would be *fair* it would be everything she had promised herself she would one day have when she was still a *sniffling* lamb running from the hands of countless _executioners-_
Breathe.
Her god was awaiting her.
_Death_ was awaiting her.
- - - -
Kristin felt like every time she had entered The Realm Of Death it had looked different.
Her first visit, with her head freshly reattached, holding her throat like it might just fall off if she let go, it had been watery.
Like someone had cried a thousand tears, and they coated the entire dimension in the proof of their sorrow. Her own had joined in.
Today it looked like a dessert.
It didn't necessarily _feel_ like a dessert.
Sure, there was definitely something sand-_like_ brushing against her hooves everytime she took a step, but it was neither blazingly hot or freezing cold. Infact, it felt weirdly _absent_ of temperature if she concentrated on it too long.
Dunes of white sand stretching in every direction, interspersed with bones and skulls that she pointedly did _not_ recognise, averting her eyes before her thoughts could linger.
The area in front of her god, however, was even.
A plaza to what had once been akin to the Realms greatest statue, chained by the will of those that had not dared to let him meet his end.
Philza was an imposing figure, as were the everloyal figures kneeling beside him.
To his left sat Technoblade, Weapon extraordinaire, a true foe she had often sparred with after her many deaths during the crusades in the bishops lands.
Sat by his right was Theseus, a truly talented curser that always had a joke at the ready and a smile on his lips.
And _Phil_ well. He was the god that had made it possible for Kristin to follow her wish for revenge in the first place.
Decapitated before the laughing bishops, placed right into his waiting paws and molded into the perfect vessel _death_ by cruel _death_ by cruel _death._
And in the wake of all those set backs, after every failed crusade, they had been there to catch her.
What had started as few words of encouragement had evolved into banter in short time, and circled to training sessions to help hone her skills and conversations about the living world with _Techno_ and _Tommy_ respectively.
Philza had seemed the most fascinated when she had regaled him with tales of the cult, of how the lands had changed from when he had walked among mortals, just over a millenia ago, and Kristin had always been happy to oblidge.
He would not have need of her tales anymore.
This visit felt more formal than her usual, much more akin to that first terrible night when she had met her very first death.
Her red cape billowed around her as she knelt, hiding her body in a cascade of silk.
"Vessel, I relinquish you from your service to the Red Crown. Return it to me, and embrace the end that awaits."
Kristins eyes were fixed on the white not-sand.
"With this last sacrifice of my most devoted Follower, I will be freed. Approach, vessel, and lay your life down at my feet."
Had she inhaled any sharper she might have choked, head snapping to the figure before her, the figure that she might have thought a _friend_ that was now asking her to- to-
Philza had the gall to _smile.
"I can not wait to visit the places you have told me about, dear Kristin."