You'd think it would be horrifying to see Death himself striding toward you, eyeless and spiked, while you dangled helplessly at the end of a rope. If so, you've obviously never met Marsh. I have a soft spot for everyone who thinks the Survivor is the most irritating immortal calling himself a god currently running around the Cosmere. Anyway, he stalked forward, scattering screaming locals like chaff before the wind, with a distinctly long-suffering expression. I'm not sure how I could tell, given the previously mentioned spikes impeding the normal range of facial expressions. Maybe everyone looks at me that way. He stopped before me, and I tumbled to the ground in an undignified heap. I hadn't even seen the bit of metal he Pushed at the rope.

"If you leave now," he growled, "I might be able to fix this before my brother shows up."

Oh. Oh no.