The earliest memory after Lona died was not of peace… but of drift.
She floated helplessly in the River of Souls, her form pale and weightless, pulled by the flow of countless spirits—souls from forgotten galaxies, broken timelines, alternate Earths, even myth-realms—streaming like stardust through a realm untouched by time.
The air was eerie yet beautiful, hauntingly quiet. The river whispered with voices from a thousand worlds.
Then—tug.
Something snatched her leg.
Two hunched demons with glowing eyes and grotesque skin grinned with crooked teeth. They clutched enchanted fishing rods capable of detecting souls with unfinished business, and Lona's soul burned with it.
The hook yanked her out of the river like prey, alongside others. For a moment, they believed they had escaped—saved by divine intervention, perhaps.
Then, clink. Cold, iron chains slammed around their wrists and necks.
"What! What's going on? Why are we being tied?" one soul cried out in panic.
None understood that the one who had pulled them free wasn't a savior. It was Death's son—a twisted creature obsessed with cruelty, laughter, and agony.
He had forged a realm outside the balance of life and death.
A playground of torment.
A world he called Limbo.
Here, souls were not judged—they were used.
Dragged in chains, Lona and the others were herded through a desolate, storm-scarred landscape. Towering structures of bone loomed in the distance. Lightning crackled in sickly hues overhead.
In front of the soul convoy, a demon wielded a flaming whip, lashing the air with a screech.
"Move!"
Fear gripped them. Some stumbled. Some cried. Others looked inward, questioning if this was hell.
Then, a soft voice broke the dread.
A melody, a whisper, a lullaby.
> "Hush now, my child, close your eyes so tight,
Mother is here, guarding through the night.
Storms may rage, the winds may cry,
But I will stand, I will not die.
Even if darkness comes to call,
My love will shield you, standing tall.
In every breath, in every prayer,
Know that I will always be there.
Sleep, my dear, let dreams take flight,
Wrapped in warmth, bathed in light.
No fear, no pain, no tears to weep,
For in my arms, you're safe to sleep."
The demon stopped mid-whip. "Who… who dares sing?"
He turned, marching toward the sound—and locked eyes with Lona.
She stood unshaken in the chains. Her eyes glowed with a primal force—the same power that had frightened even the gods. She was not singing to defy them. She was singing to remember.
And something ancient and terrible stirred within her.
The demon gasped, unable to move or speak.
She stepped past him.
"Hey!" he croaked to the reapers manning the soul nets. "Are you sure you didn't reel in a demon lord's soul?"
One of them scratched his horn. "You felt it too, Gagnat?"
"You think the prince'll get mad?"
"Nah. If anything, he'll be thrilled. He wants only the best torment toys."
Later, the collected souls were forced into chambers—dark, damp, metallic, aligned like cells in a prison block. Each chamber held twenty confused, frightened souls.
In one of them, Lona sat in a shadowed corner. The air was thick with despair.
Then it appeared—glowing faintly in front of her.
> "Hey, I am the System. I can help you find your children. In return, you must set me free from captivity. If you agree, press YES."
Two buttons glowed: YES and NO.
She blinked. "No," she said, certain it was a hallucination.
> "What do you mean NO?! Don't close your eyes... Activating audio..."
A voice boomed in her head.
> "Okay, now you can hear me. Let me explain fast. Everything you've seen is real. Your children—they're alive… well, more dead than alive. They're zombies. But that's not the point. The Soul Reapers trapped me—the System. I'm a fairy, and they embedded me into a controlling machine. But through your twins' telepathic link, I've managed to contact you from the future.
> "In your current timeline, you're already a Soul Reaper. Which means… you said YES eventually. So I need you now to take the first step. Kill the prince. That's the only way to become a soul reaper.
> "As a gift, I offer you a skill—Devour. It forms a wormhole that consumes weaker beings and converts them into dark shadow energy. You can mold that energy into monsters. The more you devour, the stronger you become. But be warned—only those weaker than you can be devoured. Stronger beings must first be weakened.
> "I will appear once more later. I believe in you. Your children believe in you."
The message ended.
"Wait!" Lona shouted—but it was too late.
The System vanished. The hunger remained.
A soul nearby muttered, "Oii, that lady is talking to herself—"
"Hey sexy," another whispered, stepping forward. "My friend Tony wants to come inside your house… knock knock, open up—"
He reached for her.
The moment his fingers brushed her shoulder, a swirling wormhole appeared on her skin.
It devoured his hand instantly. He screamed in agony as the void consumed his body whole.
Lona stood. "I see. He was weaker than me."
She turned to the others in the chamber.
"I'm sorry," she whispered, eyes glowing purple-black, "but I need power. I need my children."
Wormholes erupted, twisting and hissing, as she began consuming the other souls. Screams filled the chamber. Fleshless energy ripped through space and twisted into monstrous shadows around her, crawling and howling.
Chambers across the block echoed with terror.
A demon heard the chaos and ran over. When he checked the cell...
There was only one soul remaining.
She stood in the center.
"...M-m-m-monster," he stammered, dropping his weapon and stepping back.