Stellaria the beginning

The second keeper

Sixteen-year-old Steven had always been an ordinary teenager, living in a small town where nothing ever seemed to happen. He went to school, played Video games just like the last boy we talked about and spent his weekends with his family—his parents, who doted on him, and his younger brother hector who bothered him Life was simple, peaceful, and Steven wouldn't have had it any other way.

But one cold, foggy evening, everything changed. Steven was walking home from a friend's house, the streets eerily silent, when a shadow appeared in his path. It was no ordinary shadow, but a towering, cloaked figure, its presence sending chills down Steven's spine. Before he could react, the figure reached out, and with a single touch, the world around Steven dissolved into darkness.

When Steven awoke, he found himself in a place unlike any he had ever seen. The air was thick with the scent of decay, and the sky was a swirling vortex of gray and black. He was in the land of the dead. And standing before him was the figure from before—Death himself.

"You've been chosen, Steven," Death's voice echoed, cold and ancient. "You will be my successor, the new Reaper of souls."

Steven's heart pounded in his chest. "But I don't want to hurt anyone. I can't take lives—I'm not like you!"

Death's hollow eyes bore into Steven's soul. "It is not about what you want. It is about what you must do. Every life has an end, and you will be the one to bring it."

Steven felt the weight of a scythe appear in his hand, its cold metal sending shivers down his spine. But as he looked at it, all he could feel was dread. He had always been kind-hearted, the type of person who went out of his way to help others. The thought of being the one to end lives was unbearable.

"I won't do it," Steven said, dropping the scythe. "I refuse."

Death simply stared at him, unfazed. "You cannot escape your destiny, Steven. The moment you were brought here, your old life ended. You are Death now."

Despite his words, Steven resisted. He wandered the land of the dead, refusing to carry out the duties expected of him. Days turned into weeks, and though he was surrounded by the souls of the departed, Steven clung to his humanity, refusing to lose himself to the darkness of his new role.

But then, tragedy struck.

It began with a feeling, a deep, gnawing pain in his chest. And then, a vision—a vision of his family. They were in a terrible accident. His father and mother... his whole family they were all gone in an instant.

Steven screamed, the pain tearing through him like a thousand knives. He could see them in the land of the dead, their souls wandering in confusion, lost and afraid. His heart broke as he reached out to them, but they did not recognize him. To them, he was just another faceless reaper, a harbinger of death.

It was in that moment that Steven realized the cruel irony of his situation. He had become the very thing he despised, and now, the only thing that connected him to his old life was the duty he had so desperately tried to avoid.

Driven by grief and the desperate need to reunite with his family, Steven took up the scythe once more. But this time, he did not wield it with cold detachment. He used his power to guide souls with compassion, to ease their transition from life to death with kindness. He became a reaper unlike any before him—a shepherd of souls, not a bringer of death.

In the end, Steven found a way to honor the memory of his family by embracing his new role. Though he could not change what had happened, he vowed to use his powers to ensure that no soul would ever feel the pain and fear that he had felt.

And so, Steven became the Reaper, not out of a desire to kill, but out of love—a love that transcended death itself.