I'm hoping that updates come out at about every seven-eight days, but I'm not that great at sticking to schedules so :/

I turn up in a conference-looking room. It's dark and mysterious and figures larger than me, loom higher than what seems possible. It's like something out of a movie where the antagonist addresses their evil banker friends and gives me a sensation of being in front of the world security council, something I'd despise.

       This isn't the world security council, these are all the past Deaths. Different personas who have taken upon the face of Death and fulfilled their duties until they find another to pass it onto. From the eldest-looking one to my mother, there's roughly five of them. They all wear black, cowled cloaks, covering their raisin-sunken arms. The cowls cast mysterious shadows and cover their face for no logical reason but to create tension and suspense.

       "You are our legacy." One says, a scratchy voice that sounds like one of those old gramophone things that's found a scratch on a disk. I clench my teeth.

       "I am many legacies." I say, matching the ominous tone that she speaks in, I break it to let a slightly Gale tone to slip through. "But you sound rather... Disappointed."

       "Once a soul takes on the persona of Death." The Death next to the eldest one speaks.

       "They have an amount of what we call, Humanity." The next Death added, drawing out the end of the last word. Obviously humanity was some kind of sickness, disease, a curse.

       "This is the final essence of what holds back that person from becoming to their fullest potential."

       "Potential, huh?" I wondered. "I've heard that word before," I scowl, frowning, thinking of Thanos and the snide words he'd spoken once I'd vowed away my fate, "it was something like the thirtieth chapter, good times,"

       "If the amount of Humanity is... Excessive, then it is dangerous, detrimental to the ability to fulfil the duties that this requires. In this case, they must undergo trials to purge themselves of this, humanity."

       "Lemme guess." I say, "I'm too... Humane? And so now I have to undergo these trials to rid myself of it?"

       There's an awkward silence that ensues, none of them really speak but they are each, itching awkwardly for an explaination. I use the moment to continue.

       "I've killed people, many people, innocent people, evil people, I've died and returned on two seperate occasions, I have lost my friends and my family, my only connections left to this world. I've collected the soul of a close friend of whom I did nothing to stop. I don't know what else being Death could entail,"

       Another awkward silence overcomes the hall. Finally, one of them speaks. "While this may be many great merits, humanity is still undeniably within you, it becomes stronger whenever you affiliate with mortal affairs and if it becomes too great, you will fall to your weakness,"

       The next Death speaks, in the same ominious tone, "If you are able to prevent it, you may save yourself a many great pain. The trials could occur at any moment if we find it necessary."

       The youngest one, the one I had identified as my Mother spoke last. "We hope, for your sake, that this will not occur,"

       I had one more, distasteful look from them, one that sent my stomach plummeting to the base of my feet. The parts of their faces that weren't covered in shadow bled a pale white, sending spots dancing into my vision. I sat up on my throne, rolling my shoulders in discomfort, pressing down hard on the muscle between my shoulder and my neck.

         "You do not experience pain." Grim spoke, stern-faced beside me. He didn't move an inch to gauge my reaction or show any sign of continuing to speak.

       "How is that-" I was going to say related, but with my finger still pressed to my shoulder, I paused. "Human habit?"

       "I am supposed to introduce you to your duties." He said, monotonous.

       "Word gets around fast then," I laughed lowly, but when I saw the lack of amusement from Grim I trailed off.

       "Let us begin." He spoke, his voice deep. The world around me shifted, faces and places blurred past and Grim began talking. "When what constitutes life was formed, Death became shortly after. Henceforth, the beginning and the end. God did not intend for the end though-"

      "God?" I asked incredulously, "God is somewhere in all of this?"

       Grim pauses to look down at me for a second, "Yes, God. Matter can neither be created nor destroyed except for the inclusion of energy, the multi-universe operates at the same ratioed temperature and even the chance of evolution has been put down to the chance of a spontaneous combustion which forms an Oxford Dictionary containing an unpublished version of the English language."

"No, I mean, even in all of this," I look around me, we're in some kind of warp-speed to our next destination, but here I can see the lives of some trillion people. "I'd never really had much time to think about God in all of this. I'd just kind of assumed that he'd abandoned me..."

"I don't think someone who put an infinite amount of work into the universe would so easily abandon it," Grim says and I realise that it's a very deep thing to say. I wonder if Grim ever felt abandoned too.

"Death quickly evolved as a symbol of the end, all things come to an end, likewise, all things some to Death. It wasn't until civilisations began their own envisionings of Death that it became a little more complicated." Grim began speaking again.

"Am I being schooled by the Grim Reaper?" I wondered to myself. Grim continued on as if he hadn't heard me.

"Other cultures also had their own interpretations of death and its various aspects. Eventually, Hela and her husband Luk were joined in ruling the of the Underworld, Reapers extracted the souls from the body and Fate chose who would die. Death encompassed and ruled over all the aspects of death. As you'll see here."

Grim turns to the scene that's just formed, a young girl is in a hospital, her translucent hands laid over a blanket that encompasses her body. Her eyes are fluttered shut and she has no hair. The layers of death around her are thick, I reach out to them, thick waves. They respond to my touch by clinging to my fingers, however, they are anchored to the child. My stomach flips uneasily.

"A child?" I growl angrily, turning on Grim. "You want me to take a fricken child?"

Grim doesn't say anything, instead, nodding once.

"Look at her! There's-theres hope for her." I jab a finger towards the child, looking back, I'm already doubting my words. I can see it, shes almost literally hanging on by mere threads. Her mother is asleep at her bedside, long and weary nights imprinted under her eyes. "She's a child, she deserves a life."

"She's not destined to have a life. Lana, trust me when I say this, it's better for her, for everyone else when it's like this."

"No." I stay firmly, tempted to stamp my foot, I don't, which is both a relief and a little disappointing.

"Lana-" Grim begins in a firm, parent-like voice.

"Don't you Lana, me." I scowl, straightening my shoulders, "I've made my decision and that's final."

Grim sighs, he seems a little sad and I almost think that I see his shoulders sag. "As you wish." He manages, I falter slightly.

Time fast forwards, the girl who's name is Emma, sits happily in her bed as doctors and nurses alike puzzle over the most recent tests which show a tremendous lack of cancer activity. She sits in her bed, happy, carefree, the mother and father beside her, overjoyous.

I smile, what wrong could come from this?

"Watch." Grim speaks sullenly, his words are full of knowing and dark apprehension. I pay attention to what the doctors are saying, they begin to walk out and to the operation rooms.

"Well since that's solved, we can move Jamie forwards a slot. Is prep ready?"

"Yes." A nurse replied as they walked, then she frowned. "But doctor, his results are being finalised, we don't know for sure-"

"The latest programs we've implemented have proven a success so far, I think he wants to go home." The doctor speaks firmly, the nurse nods and leaves.

As he walks, the others split away from the doctor. I look back to Grim and he nods towards the doctor, I follow him. The world blurs, he's in his locker room, meditating, I'm guessing, he studies the boy's profile, he prepares himself and suddenly he's inside the operating room. Everything blurs around us and in what seems like a matter of seconds, according to Grim, "time is partial to us," the operation begins. All appears well until the final section. There's an air of urgency around the staff attending, anxiousness increases, hissed orders between gritted teeth, urgency hangs in the air.

Long complicated words are thrown about, they rush to and fro uselessly, trying to draw back the boy. I watch the death around him thicken until his hanging by a thread. Then, the child's lost to them.

"This is what happens when you try and save a life, one innocent life for another." Grim says darkly. My throat sticks, normally, a sound would wait before departing, but this boy had ascended before I'd even moved to free him. There was literally, nothing I could do to stop him.

My head snapped to the viewing window where a distraught father watched as his son was disconnected from the machinery, the final beep still hanging in the air. He left, and without cue or instruction from Grim, I followed him until he was out of the hospital.

Throwing himself into a car, the car jerked into motion. In no time all, he was severely crossing the speed limit, alcohol, heavy on his breath. He made no movement to wipe away the tears and mucus that trailed down his lips and chin.

He screamed into the night, pumping the accelerator, before the car slid in the slick surface, aquaplaning into the side of a building.

Grim and I appeared across the street, watching the mangled car burst into flames.

I was stone-faced, shocked, a hold hand had grasped my heart once I felt the essence of the man leave his body. "I-If, I take her, Emma, will it stop?"

"We never know, but we hope." Grim replied, unmoving, the fightlight dancing in his eyes.