CHAPTER 155

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[David Lance POV]

The moment I took Death's hand, the world around me changed, and in the blink of an eye, I was in a completely different place. 

It looked like a library, but it was empty and void of any color. The only light came from the bright full moon that shone through the windows of the place, a moon that appeared to be so close that I felt I could touch it if I extended my hand.

"What is this place?" I asked, awestruck by the beauty of it.

"This is the place between existence, a limbo of sorts," Death replied calmly. "It's also a place where you can find answers to any question you have, no matter how trivial or dangerous those questions might be."

I took a step forward, my eyes scanning the area. "Excuse my ignorance, but the room is empty. So, how does this work?"

"It's simple," Death replied as she walked past me, taking a seat in a chair that conveniently appeared behind her. "You just need to think of what you want to know, and the answer will appear before you. Careful though, the moment you ask the in-between a question, the knowledge will come to you instantly. What I'm trying to say is, too much knowledge and your soul could simply self-destruct."

I see, like a Supernatural Google.

Ok then, I will ask only what I need to avoid destroying my soul and abusing Death's trust. Now, I had to be careful of how I worded my question. The last thing I wanted was to remember every waking moment of my life, from the moment I came to be to now.

"I wish to know what I have lost recently," I asked, phrasing it as best I could. And in an instant, just as Death had advertised, a massive wave of information hit me like a ton of bricks.

I remembered my powers.

My fears.

My pain.

My happiness.

My battle with Trigon in the mindscape.

The hundreds of thousands of times I had faced him so far, in the loop he had forced my mind into.

And how he had escaped the prison I had first made for him.

And as I came to understand this, as I came to understand what I had lost, I remembered my anger, my wrath, the ever-consuming feeling of hatred that I had welcomed into my heart when Superman had taken Dinah from me.

Not my Dinah. But it hurt all the same.

"That's a lot of pain for a soul so young," Death said, her voice laced with sorrow.

I turned to look at her, my hands trembling as I struggled to form a reply using sign language. After a few moments of shock processing it all, I remembered I had no need to use my hands, for as I was now, my powers weren't active.

"Thanks for your help, Death," I said, my voice trembling between sorrow and unwavering anger. "I appreciate it."

"You're welcome," Death replied, her voice soft and gentle. "I know when a soul is suffering, they rarely listen to advice, but... if you truly want to thank me, don't let your anger consume you."

"He killed her," I replied, the words coming out as a snarl.

"I know," Death replied with a soft nod. "But if you let your anger control you, then you're no better than him at the end of the day, are you?"

I wanted to retort, to say something that would shut her up, but I couldn't find the words. She was right, and as much as I hated to admit it. "I don't care if I'm better than him. I just want him dead."

"You seem to be misunderstanding me," Death replied, her tone soft as her eyes turned serious. "I'm not telling you that you shouldn't kill him; that's your call. What I'm telling you is that you shouldn't do it while you let your wrath control you."

I frowned, processing her words.

"There's a fine line between justice and revenge, and more than not, that line blurs," Death replied as she looked at the moon outside through one of the windows. "You know the saying that says revenge is a dish best served cold?"

I nodded, not sure when she was going. Well, I had an idea, but with her, who knew where things were going?

"Well, that saying was born from a passage of wisdom of old times, at least by human standards, and it goes like this. Between revenge and justice, I chose justice, for, in justice, I can temper my soul and serve the cold touch of judgment upon those who deserve it," Death continued, a faint smile on her face.

In other words, calmness before fury.

"I know that," I replied.

"Do you really?" Death asked, raising an eyebrow. "What would your loved ones say of your recent actions, and I don't talk about your desire to kill Superman. No, I mean everything else. Would they understand?"

I...

Of course, they would!

...

Would they?

"I... don't know," I finally replied, my voice barely above a whisper.

"Do you want to know the real difference between justice and revenge?" Death asked, her voice gentle.

I nodded after a moment.

"Well, as I said, there's a thin line between the two. However, there's one notable enough difference, those who follow the path of revenge usually abandon everything they used to stand for," Death replied, her eyes turning sad as she gazed at me. "They become monsters in the pursuit of destroying the one who wronged them, and in turn, they end up hurting everyone else around them. Ironically enough, the Superman you hate is the best example of this."

I stayed silent, not knowing how to reply to that.

"You have a difficult road ahead of you," Death continued after a moment, standing up from her chair. "But I have faith that you'll make the right choice. Or, at the very least, a choice you won't come to regret."

"So now what?" I asked her.

"Now, you should go back to teach Trigon a thing or thing," Death replied, moving towards the door. "Oh, and one more thing."

"What?" I asked.

"You should probably have some of Raven's favorite snacks with you from now on, just in case," Death said with a smirk as she opened the door. Once the door was opened, a bright light consumed everything around me.