Flowers flourished behind every step you took on the barren lands of the earth.

He adorned a black, shadowy robe, crows surrounding him as they soared through the dark sky and landed near his tall figure.

Every millennium, the two gods of life and death, argued over the souls of mortals. Meeting in death's realm, of taken souls.

"We meet again, life. Not a single day has gone by where my scythe hasn't stolen one of your creations."

The God of Death uttered with solemn intonation.