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When the world finally fell to pieces, I thought it was my time to go too. As the sun set on the human race and the population dwindled to thousands, then hundreds, I prepared to hang up my hood and scythe forever. After all, Death needs Life to sustain it.

But after collecting a child’s soul from his mother, ripping him from her arms like a plow upends earth, I knew that I must do something, anything, save their ghostly, damned hearts.

When I ascend into the Earthly realm, lively and jovial spirits from the Underworld troop back with me now, dancing invisibly and singing silently to and with their families. My life-giving ghosts can’t be seen, but as the presence of a candle in front of an unseeing person, their presence is warmly felt.

These humans may be doomed, but they seem content with the happiness of the spirits I bring to guide them. They aren’t as sad when they feel my heavy presence at their funerals and burials, knowing that happiness will come again.

The people have decided on a name for me, showing their gratitude for the small affections I give my protectees.

They call me Life.

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