He walked on the grass.

Softly at first. Almost silently. But his every movement carried a limit. Under his feet, the grass darkened, withered, shrank, as if nature itself understood: this was not just a guest. This was Death. The wind that had just stroked the petals died down. Insects fell to the ground. The air grew dim.

Reaper Sans - as always, silent. Without anger. Without joy. He simply walked, carrying in his palms an invisible burden - the soul of an old monster. Its light was already fading. Its threads were already breaking. Soon - everything will end.

He stopped at the edge of the field, where tall light clover grew. Usually it reached for the sun. But now the clover drooped. He felt: he was not alone here.

In the center of the field, among the grasses, softly rustling under the light of the sky, there she was.

You.

Not in the form of a goddess, no. You were hidden. A light, transparent glow. Elusive. You stood next to a newborn, a tiny monster, like a small dinosaur, with skin still damp with life, with heavily breathing lungs. His soul was just entering the body.

You protected it - guided it.

You squatted nearby, not touching the physical world, but accepting it. Next to mother and father. Two monsters, trembling with happiness. Their eyes were full of tears. They did not know who you were. They could not see. But they felt warmth. As if life itself had touched them.

You smiled. Warmly, selflessly. Your eyes shone with a soft light, a light of which there is too little in this world.

The baby let out his first hoarse squeak. You put… breath into him. Not with words. Not with touch. Just with presence.

“Welcome, little one,” you whispered, though no one but him could hear it.

Reaper stood at a distance. His scythe trembled slightly in his hand, as if it sensed alien energy. He looked. Silently. At you. At them. At how, in the same place where one dies, another is born.

He did not move. He did not interfere. But you knew - he felt. Everything.

The baby's mother trembled, pressing the child to her chest. The father hugged them, bending over. Their tears fell to the ground, soaking the grass - the one where you stood did not wither. You did not bring death. You gave the beginning.

And in this fragile point between lives - he and you. Death and Life. He is the cold. You are the breath. You are not enemies. You are the balance.

And for the first time in forever, he spoke.

“He is… beautiful.”

His voice is quiet. Broken and pure at the same time.

You turned your head. There is light in your eyes, but also sadness. — “And the one you carry was wise. He is not afraid. He knew you would come.”

A pause. You look at each other. He is a black flame. You are a candle in the wind.

“I thought you avoided the places I go,” — he said, almost whispering.

You smile. — “And I thought you would bypass those who have just appeared.”

He lowers his gaze. For a second, as if he lingers. The soul he carries no longer resists. Its path is complete. And you have just given birth to another.