"Grace, you shouldn’t be here."
The words escaped his lips before he could stop himself, his voice cutting through the fog that hung like a thick veil over the graveyard. The Grim Reaper was supposed to remain silent, invisible, a mere shadow of death’s design. Yet here he was, breaking every rule he’d upheld for centuries.
Grace turned, her wide eyes searching the darkness. She shouldn’t have been able to see him, but tonight, something was different. She shivered, her breath visible in the cold night air as her gaze locked onto the figure in the dark cloak.
“Who...who are you?” Her voice quivered, but curiosity held firm against her fear.
For the first time in ages, the Grim Reaper hesitated. His scythe glinted in the moonlight, poised to collect yet another soul. But as he looked into Grace's eyes, something stirred within him—a flicker, like a candle flame fighting against the wind.
He shouldn’t have spoken. He shouldn’t have lingered. Yet he found himself whispering.
“You don’t need to be afraid of me… Not tonight.”
The scene shifted, moments slipping by in silence until the distant howl of wolves punctuated the air, as if nature itself was reminding him of his purpose. And yet, he remained, rooted in place, unable to turn away. He knew what was coming. Her time was drawing near, and he’d come here for her, as he’d done for countless others.
But he hadn’t expected this… connection.
A gust of wind swept through the graveyard, sending a chill racing down his spine. He knew he was risking everything by simply being here, by acknowledging her presence. He should have walked away. His duty was clear. And yet…
“Why can I see you?” she asked, a hint of wonder threading through her fear.
The Reaper’s gaze softened. He was tempted to tell her everything, to share the truth she’d never understand, to explain that her fate was in his hands. But that wasn’t his role. It was never his role. With a sigh, he took a step back, clutching the scythe tightly.
The night seemed to thicken around them as if nature herself were holding her breath.
“Some things aren’t meant to be known,” he murmured, casting a long shadow over her. “Not by mortals.”
Just as he prepared to turn away, a scream pierced the night, distant yet close enough to ripple through his senses. Grace gasped, clutching at her chest as her eyes widened, scanning the darkness.
“What… what was that?” she whispered, panic creeping into her voice.
The Reaper knew it was time to go, to vanish back into the shadows. But something held him there, some invisible tether he couldn’t sever.
And that scream—it was coming from the same place he’d been tasked to visit next. His duty called, but so did something else, something he hadn’t felt in centuries.
With a quick, determined glance at Grace, he whispered, “Stay here. Don’t follow.”
And as he disappeared into the darkness, the unanswered question hung heavy in the air:
> What was lurking in the shadows, and why did it feel like something even he couldn’t control?
YOU ARE READING
The Grim Reaper's Undying Love
عاطفيةFor centuries, the Grim Reaper has existed as a silent shadow, collecting souls and bridging worlds. Bound by an eternal purpose, he has never questioned his existence-until he meets her. Grace, a mortal woman caught in the tangled threads of fate...
