“Hello. Is this Death?”

If He had eyelids, Death would have blinked. This teenage girl with white streaks through her hair had appeared before Him, and though she ---looked--- quite alive, it was apparent to Him that she was already dead. He didn’t recognize her—mortal faces tended to run together these days—but He couldn’t understand why shedidn’t recognize Him; His was not a lack of face one easily forgot.

...Yes?

“What happens when Gods die?” she asked, apparently forgetting all the courtesies that one followed when addressing a God, especially one as important as Death.

Gods don’t die, He informed her, annoyed, At least not to My knowledge. That was mostly a joke; He knew when individual blades of grass died, something as important as a God’s death would certainly gain his attention.

“Well,” she said sweetly. No. Maliciously. “If I were You, I wouldn’t count on that.” An amulet materialized around her neck, simple, with only a plain, clear crystal to draw the eye. But the magics woven into it made it immediately recognizable to Death; He had helped to craft the thing.

And Death retreated. No, Death ran. From His own realm, down to the Mortal Coil where He might determine what, precisely, was going on. Gods did not die, they were Replaced. The amulet the girl bore would allow her to claim the power and knowledge and skill of whatever God she chose, should she somehow manage to defeat that God. She appeared before Him again, a deadly blade in hand, and He poured His power into her. But she had no soul of her own for him to shatter, nor did her body rot or her mind break. He could not harm her, and He ran again.

He escaped into the void of space, and she followed. He lured her through a flare of a sun, and still she pursued. He guided her to a planet where her flesh should have ignited, and she laughed. Then Death began to the fury of an exploding star they went, then into the arms of a black hole. There was no place Death could not reach, and no place she could not follow. Civilizations collapsed as they passed too closely, stars burned out a billion years too early, and galaxies scattered as He fled. What was this girl? She was not a Hero, for they never got so strong. She was not mortal, for she had no soul. She was neither demon nor creature of light, for she did not bear Light nor Dark within her. She was certainly not Undead, for they fall under His power and she was too intelligent besides. She was not homunculi or golem, for her body was pure flesh and bone. She was not a Wraith, for she did not reek of timestream as they did. There was no Godling or half-God matching her face, and no Infinite would deign to pursue His power. Without knowing what it was He faced, all He could do for now was delay and run and delay again.

But the inevitable finally happened, as Death began to run out of options, and hesitated a moment too long. Her blade cut his bones like they were nothing, and though there was no air she uttered:
“Through the Rite of Caste, I claim the title of God of Death, and all the power that comes with it.” The amulet became like a star, and Death laughed and returned to Her realm and Her throne.

Now. Where would She find Life?