While all these political games happen around the world. Something more serious is happening with the Eldritch Deity, Erik.
Erik had faced gods without flinching.
He had argued with beings older than stars, endured silence so complete it tried to erase him, and stepped willingly into a universe that was accelerating faster than it ever had before.
None of that compared to this.
He stood in the apartment, hands resting uselessly at his sides, staring at Lady Death as she flipped lazily through a book she absolutely did not need to read. The city outside hummed, a comfortable, familiar rhythm now. Not overwhelming. Not lonely.
Just alive.
Lady Death glanced up, immediately noticing the tension in his posture. She lowered the book slightly, eyes amused but attentive.
"You're pacing in place," she said. "That's new."
Erik froze. "I am not."
"You are," she replied cheerfully. "You've been doing it for three minutes. Very subtle. Very intimidating."
He exhaled and stopped pretending otherwise.
"I need to ask you something," he said.
That made her close the book fully.
Now she was interested.
She leaned back against the couch, one leg crossing over the other, expression calm but curious. "Alright. Ask."
Erik opened his mouth.
Nothing came out.
He frowned at himself, then tried again. "This is… more difficult than I anticipated."
Lady Death smiled softly. Not teasing. Not pushing. Just present.
"You can take your time," she said. "I'm not going anywhere."
That helped. More than she probably realized.
Erik nodded once, grounding himself the way he had learned to do when reality felt too loud.
"I've been thinking," he began, choosing each word carefully. "About us. About how we exist together."
She tilted her head slightly, listening.
"When I was trapped," he continued, "time had no meaning. Everything blurred together. I didn't plan. I endured. And then suddenly… I wasn't alone anymore."
Her expression softened, but she said nothing, letting him speak.
"You didn't just free me," Erik said. "You stayed. You walk with me. You listen when I doubt myself. You challenge me when I hesitate."
He looked at her then, really looked at her.
"And somewhere along the way," he admitted, voice quieter now, "that stopped feeling like coincidence."
Lady Death studied him with ancient patience, eyes warm.
Erik swallowed.
"I don't want to keep drifting forever," he said. "Not with you. I want to choose something. Even if it's small. Even if it's human."
He hesitated, then straightened, resolve settling in.
"So," he said, "I would like to ask you on an official date."
There it was.
Silence followed.
Not the heavy kind. Not the void.
This silence felt expectant.
Lady Death blinked once.
Then twice.
Then she laughed.
Not mockery. Not surprise.
Delight.
"An official date," she repeated, smiling wider. "You mean not wandering through collapsing stars or observing civilizations from a safe distance."
"Yes," Erik said quickly. "No cosmic emergencies. No eldritch interventions. Just… time. Together. Intentionally."
She leaned forward, elbows resting on her knees, eyes bright.
"And where," she asked, "does the first sound of the universe take Death on a date?"
Erik paused, then allowed himself a small, nervous smile.
"I was thinking," he said, "somewhere simple. Dinner. A walk. Somewhere humans go when they want to know each other better."
Lady Death's smile turned fond.
"That," she said, "is the most terrifying thing you've ever done."
He groaned softly. "That bad?"
"No," she replied, standing and stepping closer. "That brave."
She reached out, fingers brushing against his hand, a touch warm and grounding.
"I would love to go on a date with you, Erik," she said.
The universe did not explode.
Reality did not fracture.
But something inside him did shift.
"Really?" he asked, unable to hide the relief.
"Yes," she said, squeezing his hand. "Officially."
He let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding.
"Then," he said, gaining confidence, "I will do my best not to embarrass myself."
She smirked. "Oh, you absolutely will."
He laughed, genuine and unguarded.
Outside, the city continued its endless motion, unaware that an ageless being born from the first sound of creation had just taken his first truly personal risk.
And somewhere deep in the rhythm of existence, the universe approved.
Quietly.
__________
(The next day)
Erik learned very quickly that choosing to be human was far more dangerous than being cosmic.
The restaurant was small. Too small, he thought at first. Warm light spilled from hanging fixtures, amber and soft, reflecting off wooden tables polished by years of use. The air carried the scent of spices, cooked vegetables, bread, and something sweet he couldn't immediately identify. It wasn't overwhelming, but it was layered, each smell distinct yet overlapping. A harmony. He noticed that immediately.
Lady Death stepped inside ahead of him, pausing just long enough to take it in. She wore something simple. Dark, elegant, unmistakably human. No symbols. No cosmic authority. Just a woman on a night out.
She glanced back at him, amused. "You're cataloging the room."
"I always do that," Erik replied.
"No," she said, smiling. "You usually catalog the universe. This is different."
He followed her in, suddenly very aware of his own body. The way his steps sounded against the floor. The way people glanced up, then looked away again, sensing something without understanding it. He carefully dampened his presence, tuning himself down the way he'd learned to do on Earth.
They were shown to a table near the window.
Erik sat stiffly at first, hands folded, posture far too formal. Lady Death noticed immediately.
"You can relax," she said gently. "They're not going to ask us to judge their souls."
"That is… reassuring," he replied, then paused. "I think."
She laughed softly.
A server came by, handed them menus, and asked the usual questions. Erik nodded politely, then stared down at the menu as if it were an arcane text.
There were too many options.
He frowned slightly. "Why are there so many ways to prepare the same thing?"
Lady Death leaned over to look. "Because humans like choice. It makes them feel involved."
"I see," he said slowly. "Then I will choose intentionally."
She watched him scan the menu with the same focus he once used to listen to dying stars.
"This is adorable," she said.
He looked up. "I am not attempting to be."
"That's what makes it work."
When the server left, silence settled between them. Not awkward. Just… present.
Erik shifted. "I have a confession."
Lady Death rested her chin on her hand. "Go on."
"I have watched the rise and fall of civilizations," he said. "I have argued philosophy with entities that exist outside linear causality."
"And?"
"I have no idea what is appropriate conversation on a first date."
She smiled warmly. "That's easy. You talk about what matters to you."
He considered that.
"What matters to me," he said carefully, "is learning how to exist without being alone."
Her expression softened.
"And music," he added quickly. "Music matters. And listening. And not… overwhelming people."
"That's a good start," she said, eyes kind. "For what it's worth, most humans don't know what they're doing either."
"That is comforting," Erik said, relieved. "I thought I was uniquely unprepared."
The food arrived. Erik watched intently as plates were set down, steam curling upward. He tasted cautiously at first, then paused.
"This is very good," he said, surprised.
Lady Death smirked. "High praise from the embodiment of sound."
"It has texture," he added thoughtfully. "And timing. The flavors arrive in sequence."
She raised her glass. "To timing, then."
They ate slowly, talking more easily as the minutes passed. Erik spoke about the void, but in smaller pieces. Less like a lecture. More like memories. Lady Death talked about humanity. The moments people never remembered her for. The kindness. The small courage.
At one point, Erik realized he was laughing.
Actually laughing.
He froze mid-breath.
Lady Death noticed. "What?"
"I am enjoying this," he said, genuinely baffled. "There is no agenda. No threat. No cosmic implication."
"Just dinner," she said.
He nodded slowly. "I would like to do this again."
She smiled. "Careful. That's how it starts."
Afterward, they walked.
The city at night was different. Softer. More honest. Streetlights cast long shadows. Somewhere nearby, music drifted from an open window. Erik felt it brush against him like a familiar greeting.
He didn't amplify it.
He didn't change it.
He just listened.
They stopped at a crosswalk, waiting for the light to change. Lady Death glanced sideways at him.
"You did well," she said.
"I was terrified," he admitted.
"I know."
The light changed. They stepped forward together, unhurried.
For the first time since the beginning of everything, Erik wasn't thinking about what came next.
He was just there.
With her.
They were halfway down the block when it happened.
Erik didn't notice at first.
He was listening. Not in the cosmic sense, not the way he listened to planets or civilizations or the echo of decisions rippling through time. He was listening like a person walking beside someone they cared about, half-aware of traffic, of footsteps, of distant music leaking from a bar down the street.
A guitar. Slightly out of tune. Someone playing for tips.
He smiled faintly.
"That chord progression," he said absently, "it wants to resolve but never quite does."
Lady Death glanced at him. "You're doing the thing."
"I am?" He blinked. "Which thing."
"Analyzing every sound like it's a thesis thing."
"Oh. Sorry." He hesitated. "Is it… annoying?"
She shook her head. "No. It's you."
That was when the air shifted.
Not sharply. Not violently. Just a subtle tightening, like a room holding its breath.
The streetlight ahead of them flickered once.
Then again.
Erik frowned, stopping mid-step. "That's… odd."
Lady Death stopped too, instantly alert. "Erik."
"I didn't mean to," he said, already scanning inward. "I wasn't trying to change anything."
Around them, sound began to bend.
The distant guitar player struck a chord and froze, eyes widening as the note lingered far longer than it should have. The hum of traffic smoothed out, engines falling into an uncanny synchrony. Footsteps nearby unconsciously matched tempo. Even the wind threading through the alley beside them began to move in a slow, rhythmic pulse.
People noticed.
Not panic. Confusion.
A couple walking past slowed, heads tilting as if listening for something they couldn't quite hear. A man at the bus stop stopped scrolling on his phone, frowning at the sudden stillness in his chest.
Erik's breath hitched.
"I'm sorry," he said quickly, voice low. "I was relaxed. I wasn't guarding myself closely enough."
Lady Death reached out and placed a hand on his arm.
The contact grounded him immediately.
"Hey," she said calmly. "Look at me."
He did.
The waves in his eyes were moving faster now, betraying his unease.
"You didn't hurt anyone," she continued. "You nudged the room. That's all."
"But I promised," he said, guilt bleeding through. "I said I wouldn't influence people without choosing to."
"You didn't choose to," she replied. "That matters."
The streetlight steadied. The wind resumed its normal, chaotic pattern. The guitar player blinked, shook his head, and started playing again, this time unconsciously correcting his tuning.
The spell faded.
But the afterimage remained.
Erik closed his eyes, forcing his resonance inward, tightening control the way he had learned to do after arriving on Earth. The rhythm collapsed back into him, contained.
"I hate that it still slips," he murmured.
Lady Death studied him for a moment, then smiled gently. "You spent eternity being alone. Now you're letting yourself feel safe. Of course things slip."
"That doesn't make it acceptable."
"No," she agreed. "But it makes it understandable."
They resumed walking, slower now.
A few people glanced back at them, not suspicious, just thoughtful. As if they'd forgotten something important and couldn't remember what.
After a block, Erik spoke again. "When I was sealed away, I had perfect control."
She arched her brow. "You also had no one to react to."
"Yes," he said quietly. "I am beginning to see the correlation."
She bumped his shoulder lightly. "Welcome to relationships."
He actually laughed at that, then stopped himself, checking the air reflexively.
Nothing reacted.
Good.
They reached a quieter street, trees lining the sidewalk, leaves rustling softly. Erik took a steadying breath.
"I will get better at this," he said. "I don't want my presence to… bleed into moments that aren't asking for it."
Lady Death considered him. "You know, most people affect rooms without realizing it too. Just emotionally."
"Yes, but when they do it, streetlights don't flicker."
She smiled. "True. But intention still counts."
He nodded, then hesitated. "Did it bother you?"
She stopped walking.
He turned to face her, suddenly very serious.
"I don't ever want you to feel like I'm imposing myself on you," he said. "In any way."
Lady Death stepped closer, close enough that he could feel her warmth, steady and real.
"Erik," she said softly, "if it bothered me, I would tell you."
She placed a hand over his chest, right where his resonance was strongest.
"What you did wasn't control. It was overflow. There's a difference."
He swallowed. "It still worries me."
"I know," she said. "But you didn't run from it. You noticed. You corrected. That's growth."
They stood there for a moment, city noise filling back in naturally around them.
Finally, Erik exhaled, tension easing. "This date has been… educational."
She laughed. "That's one word for it."
They continued on, hands brushing once, then again, before finally settling together naturally.
This time, Erik kept his power quiet.
Not because he was afraid.
But because he chose to listen instead.
__________
A few streets away a shadow can be seen, silently moving toward the direction of the cosmic couple.
__________
__________
Second chapter, no way. I had a little more free time so I decided why not.
Erik is still having some issues with his powers but worry not he will have them under control in a few more chapters.
Any questions or concerns let me know.