Reaper

Geno awoke in a void woven from mist and silence. A cold, not like frost, but like eternity, pierced his bones. Before him, as if risen from the very mists, stood the Reaper. His black wings, enormous and tattered, swayed languidly, and the scythe in his bony hand flickered with a ghostly light.

"Geno," Reaper's voice was dull and mournful, like the chime of a broken bell. "Finally."

Geno didn't understand. He didn't remember death, only fragments of pain and darkness. But in Reaper's eyes… He seemed to see a reflection of his lost life there.

"Do you know me?" Genno whispered, feeling his throat dry up.

Reaper nodded, and a shadow flickered across his face.

"Since the day you were born. I've been watching you. Every smile, every tear."

Geno felt a chill run down his spine. It sounded terrifying, but there was no threat in Reaper's voice, only… longing.

"I always loved you, Geno. Hopelessly and inevitably."

Loved? Death loved him? Absurd. But the Reaper's gaze was so sincere, so full of pain, that Geno doubted. Perhaps the afterlife is full of its own perverse rules? Perhaps here, where life and death merge into one, even Death has the right to love?

Reaper reached out his hand, his bony fingers barely touching Geno's cheek.

"Now you're mine, Geno. Forever."

The Reaper had been waiting for this moment, and now he would never miss this chance. The Reaper would send me neither to the afterlife nor to the mortal world. The Reaper would keep me for himself.