The black line jerked the Reaper's scythe toward Nessa.
Ty's chain bit into his jaw. Three ribs followed the white wrist before his right hand caught the table edge and stopped the rest of him.
The uneven rib under his sternum shifted lower.
Jade kept Nessa's cutter inside her borrowed hand and moved with the pull. Her boots stayed beyond the white floor.
"The line wants the band, and the scythe happens to be closer."
Ty tightened the chain around the Reaper's neck. Its unfinished robe pressed through his ribs and filled the gaps between them with white fire.
"Death used to bring its own weapon choices."
The oldest socket knocked beneath the dirt.
A shoulder pushed through the square opening. Black cloth covered it. An iron belt followed, then a blank helm dragged sideways against the socket rim.
The person inside hung from the belt without helping the climb.
