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***A Short Prologue***

Death walked along the scorched stone corridors, his cloak sweeping along floors and the walls, his hood up, making the sharp angles of his skull shine in the dim lighting. Torches burn along the walls, bright orange flames instantaneously turning black as the Lord of the Underworld passed them. His fingers brush against an archway and a black film covers it, but he simply walks through.

The dark corridor vanishes, replaced by a sunlit forest clearing by the edge of a cliff. Death tugged at his cloak's hood, the sharp bones of his face and hands instantly covered with tan skin, a perfect white grin lighting up on his rather handsome face. Blowing a dark strand of hair from his face, he calls out to a young woman sitting at the edge of the cliff. "I thought you wouldn't show up."

She turns, vibrant blue eyes standing out against pale skin. "Are you insane? Of course I'd show up." Death simply went over to her, sitting beside her and wrapping an arm around her waist. She rested her head against his shoulder, closing her eyes. "Death."

"Yes, dear?"

"Why does everyone hate you, but love me?..."

"Because you are a beautiful lie," He dropped a kiss on her forehead. "And I am an ugly truth."

***A Few Years After***

Death ran down the hall, three young girls tumbling after him. The first was grinning, pale fangs catching the light, short purple hair brushing against her chin. She couldn't have been more than six years old, heterochromic eyes fixed on the man in front of her, one eye a sharp crimson, the other a fogged over green. Remember this girl. She will be important.

Behind her, the second girl was running after, brilliant platinum eyes taking in the sights around her. With long silver hair flying out behind her, she looked to be about two years younger than the girl ahead of her. However, her fangs, considerably shorter, weren't flashing in a grin. They were nervously chewing at her lip. Remember this girl as well. She too will be important.

The third girl would be more accurately described as a babe, no more than two years of age. As you may have guessed, she is just as important as the other two children. She was bumbling along behind the second girl, another pair of heterochromic eyes looking to the floor under lowered lashes, brilliant blue rings bordering platinum in either eye. She looked up at the others under her bangs, black fading into blue, shy. Remember her.

Death turned suddenly, looking over the three girls, sighing wistfully. "Ah, my darlings..." He knelt down to their height. "I've told you, you need to stop following me everywhere I go. It's dangerous."

"Why?" The platinum eyes were gleaming with curiosity.

"Just because." He pulled a little red rose from his cloak, handing it to the toddler, a smile lighting up her face, while the elder child glared, jealous.

"Daddy?"

"Yes, Dafna?"

"Why do you always give Thana roses, but never me or Nixie?" She was glaring from under her dark hair. If looks could kill, Death would already have a scythe through his soul. However, he simply kissed her forehead and laughed, getting up and continuing on his way, leaving the children behind. The girl growled, watching him go. "You never answered!"

Annoyed, Dafna stomped off, a scowl on her young face. Thana watched her, those beautiful platinum so very confused. Baby Nixie simply took the rose from her sister's slack hand, sticking the blood red petals in her month, snapping Thana to her senses, snatching the flower away. "Mine!"

***

Dafna passed her father's workers as she stormed away, what you and I would call Reapers, like the Grim Reaper. You're just an "m" short, dear. Demons, vampires, incubi, these are what Death's Grimm Reapers were on their off hours. A demon to reap the souls of the waking, a vampire to steal the life of those who prefer the night hours, and an incubus to take away the dreamers. Makes sense, no? And, of course, there are rankings. Death's right hand, left hand, second to, third to, the highest positions of a reaper. Why should you remember this?

Because of the boy who joins Dafna, his fangs catching the light just as hers do. His father is currently Death's right. Because of the boy of eight years who was watching the boy beside Dafna with narrowed eyes, tossing a dagger in his hand. Because of his albino twin who snatched the dagger from the air. Their parents have the titles of second to the left, second to the right.

"Brother-of-mine Cerin, I would prefer that the dagger that I spent adequate time making remain in my hand."

"Reasonable, brother-of-mine Blaike. Here."

Meanwhile, the other boy slings an arm around Dafna's slender shoulders, grinning at her. "Let go of me, Nathaniel."

"Hey, what happened to calling me Natty?"

She just growled, aggressive enough to catch the attention of a reaper's son. Dark and brooding, or rather, jut hiding. He will yet be another reason. "Matchitehew! Come on!" And off he goes to follow his father.

Remember these children. They will be important.

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