She felt light.
Drifting in a strange space between wakefulness and sleep, floating. Slowly, eyes fluttered open, heavy as though dragging herself out of a deep, dark abyss. As her mind gained clarity, and a spark of consciousness flashed in her eyes...
Her blood ran cold.
Two hollow, abysmal eyes bore into her—eyes that did not blink, did not move, did not even seem alive.
A skull, pale and grim, loomed before her, draped in robes that consumed all light akin to a blanket of void.
Amy's breath hitched, her heart pounding in her chest, but her body refused to move. She couldn't blink. She couldn't even scream. The very air around her felt suffocating, pressing in on her chest like an iron hand.
"W-who are you?" Amy's voice barely escaped her throat, shaky and frail, the question trembling on her lips
.
The figure tilted its head ever so slightly, like it was studying her, assessing her. Then it spoke, its voice low and hollow, echoing with an eerie timbre that chilled her to her core.
"I believe you're already aware of who I am."
Amy's mind stalled, frozen in place as she tried to make sense of the words of him—for it was clearly a 'him,' even though nothing in that skeletal form resembled the warmth of life. Her brows furrowed; thoughts sluggish as she processed what he'd said. And then... a dawning realisation swept over her.
Her eyes widened, and slowly, ever so slowly, she forced herself to look behind. There, lying sprawled on the wet ground, was a girl—a girl dressed in a darkened white robe, stained in blood. The hood and scarf obscured much of her face, but the faint freckles scattered across the small section of exposed skin felt achingly familiar.
It was her own corpse.
The red cross on her chest glistened ominously in the dim light, the blood soaking through the fabric, marking her end. Raindrops fell silently, washing away the streaks of blood, but they passed through Amy's body without a sound, without a touch. As if she didn't exist.
Her mouth moved, the words spilling out in a whisper so faint she almost didn't hear them herself.
"I'm... dead."
She turned her head back to the skeletal figure. Her body trembled as her gaze locked with his hollow eyes, and this time, she took in the full form of the entity before her.
His head was nothing but bone, crowned with a circlet of gold, regal yet terrifying. His robes billowed around him like a dark mist, constantly shifting, never still. And at his side, resting as if it had been there for eternity, was a scythe—its design simple but with elegance.
"You're... Death," Amy said, her voice barely audible as her gaze dropped to the ground beside him. The weight of that realisation crushed her, but her mind clung to a single thread—what now?
"What now?" she whispered, her question almost too quiet for her to hear, yet the weight of it hung in the air.
Death tilted his head again, slower this time, and the same hollow voice responded, sending chills down her spine.
"Do you want to die?"
Amy's heart seized in her chest, her mind spinning. Did she want to die?
Her eyes fell to the ground beneath her feet, the world around her shifting into focus yet remaining eerily surreal. Everything felt distant and hazy.
She could hear the rain falling, but it didn't reach her. Could feel her heart pounding yet it felt distant, as though it was not within her own chest.
"I... don't know," she said at last, her voice weak, trembling. She didn't know. She didn't want to die, but here she was—between life and death, confronted by the impossible.
The silence that followed felt heavy, oppressive, but then the voice came again—cold and calm, yet this time it cut through her like a knife.
"Your sister will die despairing twelve days from now."
The words struck Amy like a physical blow, knocking the breath from her lungs. Her head snapped up, her heart racing faster than it ever had before. A flare of panic lit in her chest, but as she looked into Death's hollow gaze, that fire flickered and dimmed under his unrelenting stare.
"W-what do you mean Vicky's going to die?" Her voice trembled, a thin thread of courage laced through the panic, barely holding on. Amy rose to her feet shakily, determined to face the grim figure before her, even as every nerve in her body screamed in terror.
Death's gaze remained fixed on her, unblinking. He didn't move, didn't react, but she could feel his eyes watching her, stripping her down to her very soul.
"What would your sister do," Death's voice came again, soft yet unbearably heavy, "finding her sister dead?"
Amy's breath caught in her throat. Her mind reeled as the images flashed before her—Victoria, her face twisted in grief, anger, and rage.
Vicky wouldn't handle this, Amy realised, her fingers curling into tight fists. She'd—
"She'd start venting," Amy whispered, closing her eyes as the image sharpened. "She'd... use too much force and..." She swallowed hard, her throat tight as the visions filled her mind. "The gangs... everything would fall apart."
The heat of realisation bloomed in her chest, anger, fear, and guilt warring within her. She couldn't die. Not if it meant losing Vicky too. Not if her sister would suffer like that.
"So, I ask again..." Death's voice sliced through her thoughts. "Do you want to die?"
Amy's chest tightened. She couldn't. She wouldn't. Not if it meant Vicky would be lost in her grief. Not if her sister's life would end in despair.
"...No." The word was barely more than a breath, but it was certain. She wouldn't let Vicky suffer like that.
Death remained still, as if considering her answer. Then, slowly, he spoke again, his voice quieter this time, but it carried an undeniable weight.
"Then, I would like to make a deal."
Her heart skipped a beat.
A deal? Her mind churned, questions rising to the surface, each gnawing at her insides. But before she could voice them, Death raised a single finger, silencing her.
"Listen."
The command echoed in the empty air around them, and Amy fell silent, her breath held as Death's hollow eyes bored into her.
"I desire a human form," he began, his voice filled with the weight of ages. "Rules bind me from obtaining one, so you shall create one for me, as durable as you're able. If you accept, I shall postpone your death until your sister's life is due."
Amy blinked, her mind struggling to keep up with the enormity of what he was asking.
A human form? For Death? Her fingers bit into the palms of her hands, uncertainty gnawing at her. Could she do that? Was she even capable of such a thing? Her mind was in chaos, her body frozen.
But then... Vicky. Vicky flashed in her mind, her sister's face alight with joy, with anger, with sadness. The only person Amy had left. Could she really let her die in despair?
No. She couldn't.
Amy's shoulders fell, the tension draining from her as her decision settled within her.
"I... will."
The words barely left her lips before the world exploded into light, blinding and all-encompassing. The force of it was overwhelming, and as her consciousness wavered, one final sentence echoed in her mind.
"Then do not fail me, Amelia."
…
『Amelia Dallon | May 04, 1994 – █████████』