Death Conquers All

Part 1: Chapter 1

To better understand the nature of this history, you must first know that life, death, and every other god-like person in this existence is not made in man's image, therefore is not bound by moral alignments. There are, however, times...

Night was endless on Earth, darkest where Death's footsteps fell. She hadn't yet learnt to control her powers beyond conjuring a form, human after her sister's latest creation. Dark as the night she was, from the top of her head to the bottom of her feet, and her clothes made of fluid obsidian. The only shimmer of light were her eyes, warm amber in color. After all, amber is the best coffin nature can offer.

Just woken from Fate's fast waters, Death walked guided by the light of Life. It had been days since the first death, or at least so thought Life. Time would tell you they were too young to know back then, as our day-night cycle didn't exist yet. So assuming it was a few days in a non linear flow of time, Life had kept herself busy creating humans, creating more animals - she had a passion for sea life and insets, such freedom of design - and giving man all he needed to survive: tools, shelter and fire. With primitive language, the first men had already started talking about Death, even while Life was burning in their midst. Since before the beginning of time, the end was a curiosity of everything with judgement.

Death knew nothing of men and life, just darkness. So when she saw the fire in the distance, she went to see, curious like a child in nature. The humans were tired from a long time spent hunting, and all asleep around the fire. Death thought them lifeless, laying so still while the fire was dancing. So she avoided them, carefully walked around their bodies until she could touch the flame. Her fingers burned, shining so bright, but in a moment the flame was snuffed out. Quiet fell, as it always did around her.

Terrified of what it'd done, Death fled.

By the time death dared return, Life was stronger among men. The ones Death saw sleeping all those days ago were now old and white in the head, like ashes. She felt their hearts, still in the same rhythm. A second generation, in so many bright shades they were a fire in their own right, sat around the wooden fire, telling stories to humans so small they must've been kindlings.

Watching them, watching how bright they all shone compared to her, Death wondered what was that calling she felt there. By now the humans had developed a more complex language, and a farmer just back from the field, wearing a long cloak to keep himself warm, stopped in front of death.

In an approximate translation, as most dialogue has to be, he asked.

"Who are you? Why are you familiar, yet frighten me so?"

And death, who had not spoken a word before, repeated after him. "Familiar... Frighten..."

"Who are you?" The man asked again, angered by this parrot. He put his schyte, still green from the fields, against Death's neck.

The moment he touches her, his memories flooded her mind. What Life meant, how death looked, how she looked, the terror in her eyes seen from the outside. She saw the man as he saw himself, in the golden reflection in her eyes. Skin and flesh rotting away, leaving only the white skeleton. Golden cloak turning black, frayed at the bottom. And after all the fear of the transformation, calm. Eire calm.

"Mistress" came the voice from what used to be human.

Death now had the language, but was too shocked to speak. Looking at the men behind her new companion, she saw another generation had passed, and the original humans' lived had burned.

"I understand, mistress. Where I once reaped grains that had grown enough, I now need to reap my own. " The skeleton walked among the men, and with a swift movement of his weapon put out their lives. Some had seen him and screamed 'reaper,', and such became his name.