I thought Death would've changed into something more formal, something other than his shirt and stained jeans. I doubted anyone would've called me crazy for assuming, given where we were headed, but my assumption turned out to be wrong. The only changes Death made to his outfit: his scarf wrapped around his throat and his scythe. He looked over at me and grinned, though it didn't quite reach his eyes, or his voice for that matter.

"Come on, kid. Let's not keep them waiting," he said. Aside from that, I had no warning for the sudden change of scenery. I blinked, and I blinked, and I blinked until my eyes adjusted to the bright light assaulting them. I looked at Death and shielded my eyes. His hair reflected the light like snow.

"I thought you had to do some weird slashy stuff with your scythe to do that."

"Only when we need to get out of the mortal realm. Interplanar travel is a lot easier when you're not on a nexus."

"How does that make any sense?"

"Less traffic," Death said with a shrug. "This way." As he led me along the street paved with gold, I noticed something. I couldn't hear his footsteps, which might've concerned me but we were surrounded by laughing and chattering souls. It didn't last long. When they noticed Death, they fell silent and moved away, allowing us easy access to the gates of the heavenly kingdom.

Gold and silver, not pearl and abalone, made up the delicate swirls and solid backing of the gates. Something else caught my attention, or should I say a lack of something caught my attention? Not a single guard could be seen. Nothing visible stood to prevent chaos from erupting within the crowd. My eyes flicked from place to place, trying to catch sight of some form of angel or sentry or anything that could be watching over the crowd.

"These are souls from people who did the right thing. Sure, some of them might've jaywalked or stolen a few pencils, but they weren't Hitler or Ghandi."

"What's wrong with Ghandi?"

"He was a horrible man who did great things. Oh, you know what's fun? One time I reaped a guy who kept apologizing to the thing that killed him. I think he was Australian or something, but that doesn't matter. These are the good souls who walked the Earth, so they're trusted enough to handle themselves. Besides, if any fights do break out, there's no rules stopping an angel from throwing them down."

Slowly nodding, I stared at him. "How'd you know that's what I was confused about?"

"You were mumbling to yourself," he said. "Besides, whenever I actually bring a soul up here they always ask that. Why dead people are so concerned with their safety, I have no idea." He knocked on the bottom of the gate, ignoring a guy yelling at us. Glowing edges appeared, creating a doorway which swung inward. With a dramatic flourish of his arms, Death bowed. "Welcome to Heaven."

My eyes widened, and I stared at the sprawling city before me. The streets were paved with gold and glass bricks. Puffy, cotton candy clouds edged them like sidewalks. Countless houses and parks stretched into the distance, the occasional farm sprinkled in.

"Yeah, yeah. It's nice, keep it moving. I'm not being late to this, again." Death shut the door and started along a road. I hurried after him, glancing at the glowing inhabitants. Some of them wore modern clothes, but the further we walked along the slowly inclining road the older the clothes looked, and the blonder the hair became. I rubbed my eyes, hoping I was just seeing things. I wasn't.

"Uh, does everyone just start bleaching their hair at some point?" I asked. "And their skin?" I added that as we passed by a group of people with patchwork skin, several sections giving way to glowing light. One young girl's hair floated around her head, occasionally melding into intricate horns before separating into strands. I took a step closer to Death.

"The purer the soul, the harder it is to retain the form it held on Earth," he said. "Plus, you know, sun bleaching." We didn't exchange many words after that. He looked around, gaze never lingering in one place for long. His eyes occasionally slid over me, as if making sure I hadn't decided to run away into a crowd of people who I stood out from like a goose in a henhouse. Questions bubbled up, but I shoved them down. Being confused about how he acted was better than being even more dead. Could I get any more dead, I didn't know, but I didn't want to find out.

After a long, steep set of stairs, we cane to a stop. A large, gleaming palace dominated the hilltop, walls made of polished metals and stones. Death raised his hand, looked at me one final time, and knocked on the door.

Nothing happened.

He knocked again.

Nothing happened.

Death beat his fist against the door; still, no answer. However, he didn't try again. He sighed, and he ran a hand through his hair.

"Are they not here?" I asked him.

"No, they're definitely home. They wouldn't have sent me a letter and then not be here. Their brother might, but not them."

"Then why aren't they answering?"

"Just because we're in Heaven doesn't mean door-to-door salesmen don't exist."

"Shouldn't they be in Hell?"

"Well, you're not exactly wrong. Like the same way people aren't exactly wrong when they say gay people go to Hell. I mean, God sends them down to set his kid up. Lucifer sends them back with a salesman or lawyer attached."

"I, uh, I didn't think that's how this worked."

"It's not how it's supposed to, but if God looks at your judgment book and sees something along those lines, he sends you down the slip-n-slide of damnation." Death beat on the door again.

Without a sound the door swung open, and a guy stared at us. His blond hair hung to his shoulders, brushing against the material of his motorcycle jacket. He was tall, tall enough that I had to tilt my chin up in order to look at his face. When I did, his eyes, bright blue, met mine; his focus entirely on me. I tried to look away, but I couldn't. Every muscle in my body locked, even the ones that would've allowed me to shift my gaze to his forehead or nose. I stood frozen.

"Okay, none of that today, thank you," said Death, using his hand to cover my eyes. When he removed it, the man no longer stared at me.

Instead, the man crossed his arms and leaned against the doorframe. "What do you want?"

"Hey, I am an invited guest here," Death said. He pulled the crumpled bite from his pocket. He smoothed it out. He handed it over. The man didn't look at it, gaze flicking back to me.

"And the mortal?"

"She's with me."

The man sighed and moved out of the doorway, letting us head inside. I swallowed. Spun glass ornaments dangled from the ceiling. Plants and flowers I didn't recognize decorated pedestals. Everything in the room looked fragile enough to break if I looked at them wrong, so I tried to keep my eyes trained on the floor. No matter how hard I tried, my gaze gravitated towards the man.

"Raphael, who was at the door?" Another male called from somewhere deeper within the palace.

"Death and some kid!"

Crashing and yelling came from a nearby hallway, only stopping when three angels tumbled into the room. Raphael sighed and pushed off of the wall and joined the others. They held their large, white, fluffy wings proud behind their backs, and their skin was bronze from constant exposure to light. Glowing script circled continously around their wrists, written in some strange, mysterious language. They didn't have halos, but their blond hair reflected the light streaming in from the large windows. One of the angels held a platypus.

I did a double-take, but just like before, I wasn't imagining it. The ten-year-old angel did, in fact, have a platypus in his arms. He stared at me, not the same way Raphael did, but it was hard to miss, especially when the others were focused solely on Death.

"Where's your dad?" Death asked. A small noise emerged from my throat, but he didn't look at me or notice how the youngest angel stared at me.

"It's rude to not introduce us to your friend," an angel in a robe said.

Death released a long sigh. "Archangels, meet Ardia. Ardia, meet the archangels."

The angel who spoke up nodded. "My name's Uriel. I believe you've already met Raphael. These are Michael-" An angel in jeans and a t-shirt. "-and Gabriel."

"And this is Perry." Gabriel lifted his platypus, who seemed content to nap in his owner's arms.

I smiled and offered a small wave. I opened my mouth to speak, but Death shot a glare at me before glancing at a seemingly random entrance.

"What's going on here?"

"Hey, Ardia?" Death mumbled, loug enough for only me to hear. "Ready to meet your maker?:

I never got a chance to respond. Someone walked into the room. He wore no crown. No wings adorned his back. As far as I could tell, the man had neither weapon nor book. Nothing about this man showed he was in charge, except maybe the immense power radiating from him in waves.

"Good, you actually showed up for once," the man said.

"It's not my fault mortals die all the time. I understand free will, but couldn't you have made them a little less murdery?" Death said.

"Your day doesn't end until you reap every last soul on your list." The man waved a hand. "You have more time than all of us."

"And the only thing that means is I drink a lot if coffee. Now, can we hurry up and get down to business? I have a job to do, you know."

"I know, I gave you- Why do you have a mortal with you?"

"That's not why you called me here, God."

"No, but I'm curious. Go on, tell me."

Death crossed his arms. "I'd rather talk about whatever it was you summoned me for."

God rolled his eyes, and a paper appeared in Death's hands. I leaned over, but it was written in the same language as the first note. As Death read the note, his eyes narrowed. He turned them to God, and they dripped with spite.

"You've got to be joking," Death said.

"I don't joke."

Chapter: 1,790

Book: 3,733

Well...uh...

I don't know how this turned out.

But I really need to get off my butt and leave cause it's like two and I have practice tonight

So uh...

See yah