Death comes to us all, life is but a shadow.

In the divine setting that is separated from the mortal realm, it consists of legendary mythical warriors who have been shaped into guardians. Each generation has evolved to protect those in the mortal realm from unexpected danger, expanding their ephemeral life string that glows within them.

You happen to be one of those guardians. But you give a prime example of how guardians are devolving. One may think a guardian carries such grand winds on their back. You, on the other hand, have wings like a dove settled onto your shoulder blades. Many mortals know of your presence in stories and will pray to never inherit you as their protector.

But it is never your fault for the incidents that happen. He just toys with you how little you are and knows how little your powers can be.

You examine the cut in half life string that is now grey and dull, the poor lifeless body lying in your arms. You have failed to uphold your duty once again. The presence of Ankou staring down at you only makes this scene more horrific. The very own Grim Reaper at the scene of a recent death is a rare sight for some guardians.

Ankou stands there twirling his scissors in his hand that still seem to have a trace of the life string that he snapped. No mortal could ever see the face that lies in the shadow of his cloak, but you, guardians, can see the pale face that lies beneath with eyes glowing ominously.