s*x in death
I couldn't.
Elara was coming for me. She had discarded her wedding veil, her face twisted in a mask of pure, jealous hatred. She held a pair of twin daggers that glowed with a toxic, yellow light.
"He was mine!" Elara shrieked, lunging for my throat. "In every life, he chooses the monster!"
"He chooses the woman who knows his soul," I countered.
I parried her first strike with the shaft of the Scythe. The metal hissed as the yellow energy met the violet. I didn't want to kill her, but the Scythe was hungry. It didn't care about mercy. It only cared about the Debt.