The dying never saw him. That was the rule.

Jason Todd had walked the veil between life and death as a reaper for longer than he could remember, a shadowed figure moving unseen, untouched, unfelt.

The weight of his scythe was familiar in his grip, its cold steel humming with finality as he stepped into the mortal plane. Another job. Another soul. It was supposed to be simple.

But it wasn’t.

He reached for your soul, the inevitable pull of death guiding his hand.. and nothing happened.

Jason frowned. That was… new. Souls didn’t resist. They didn’t hesitate. And they sure as hell didn’t sit there, breathing, staring right through him like he wasn’t even there.

Only you weren’t looking through him.

You were looking at him.

His spine went rigid, fingers tightening around the shaft of his scythe. The air between you crackled, thick with something unnatural, something impossible. No one saw Death. No one looked him in the eye and lived to tell about it.

And yet, there you were, meeting his gaze, confusion flickering in your eyes.

Jason exhaled sharply. “Well, that’s not supposed to happen.”

This was bad. This was very bad.