The Gods spent another quiet, lazy day in Arcana, their paradisal realm, far out of reach of any mortal. Some simply lounged by the ethereal pools, napping or reading ancient tomes by the luminescent water. Some bathed in the cosmic waterfalls, coating their skin in starlight, and others frolicked through endless fields of exotic wildflowers that blossomed in every imaginable color.

Far up on a cliff, overlooking the entirety of the realm, an enormous silver castle stood. It shined and sparkled in the sunlight, reflecting light into every corner of the realm, so no darkness corrupted the Gods' domain.

Inside the castle, bathed in light from the enormous windows near the ceiling, the King of the Gods rested on his throne. Rexlord was an enormous man with skin like sunlight and clear blue eyes. He wore a heavy purple cloak and shining golden armor, and his golden circlet held one large diamond above his brow.

Rexlord was generally considered to be relaxed and carefree, as most of the Gods in their untouchable paradise tended to be. However, on that day, he had an intense look, his gaze fixed on the giant doors on the opposite end of the room.

Off to his right, Hildegarde, the God of War, was kneeling on a cushion in front of a table, her long blonde braid hanging over her shoulder. Her amber eyes looked fierce while she concentrated on her game of chess with Gifre, the God of Greed, who had a stressed look on his face, running his hands through his messy brown hair.

Hildegarde was winning, of course. Being the God of War, she was a master of strategy. But Gifre just didn't know when to quit, especially when there was money on the line.

"What's the matter, Rex?" Hildegarde asked, glancing in the king's direction. He was hunched forward, his chin resting on his hands as he continued to stare down the doors before him. "You'll give yourself wrinkles if you keep glaring like that."

She and Gifre laughed at her comment, but Rexlord didn't. He didn't change his expression, he didn't move, and he didn't look her way.

The laughter in the room faded to an uncomfortable silence, and Hildegarde stood, her own gaze moving to the throne room doors too, and she placed her hand on the hilt of her sword.

"What is it?"

There was a low rumble that shook the floor, and the warm air in the room went cold. An icy wind began to stir around their feet, and the torches along the walls flickered and sputtered.

She drew her sword, and Gifre stood up beside her. His own weapons materialized in his hands, a pair of shining golden daggers.

The silence was practically tangible, and the two Gods startled when Rexlord finally spoke in his deep, powerful voice.

"Alastair is coming."

The doors to the throne room burst open with a thundering boom, and frigid air blasted through the room, nearly knocking Gifre and Hildegarde off their feet. All of the torches were blown out, and the room was engulfed in an unnatural darkness, swirling like black smoke, that covered the windows and the doorway. The only bit of light left in the room came from the faint ethereal glow of each of the Gods' skin.

When the air settled, a tall, ominous figure stood in the doorway, shrouded by the same unnatural, misty darkness that filled the room. His silver eyes glowed fiercely as he glared at the king.

Rexlord let out a sigh and leaned back in his seat, much more relaxed than before. He snapped his fingers, and the torches around the room were lighted again. The black mist that engulfed the room receded, concentrating around the figure in the doorway, so none of the bright sunlight that poured back into the room could touch him. Everything about the God of Death radiated cold and darkness.

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Gifre and Hildegarde put their weapons away, turning their attention back to their ruined chess game, and picking up the scattered pieces off the floor.

"What's the matter, Allie?" Hildegarde asked in a condescending tone, a hint of a smirk at the corner of her mouth while she set up a new game. "Don't tell me you're mad again."

"What do you think?"

Alastair's voice was low and menacing as he reached out one of his long thin hands from his dark shroud. His pale grey skin shimmered like moonlight, and it was stained with dry blood. He held up a large jar that was filled with a golden, honey-like substance that also gave off its own glow. It shined like sunlight in contrast to the shroud of darkness that surrounded him.

It was Soul Matter, the result of reaping a soul from a living victim whose time wasn't up yet. The quality and amount of Soul Matter depended largely on the soul it came from, as well as the victim's remaining lifespan at the time of their Reaping.

"Oh?" Hildegarde raised her brow, suppressing a grin. "Was that my Champion? What a shame."

"That looks tasty," Gifre said, licking his lips as he eyed the jar in Alastair's hands. "Since you ruined our game, I've got some extra money. Why don't you sell me that Soul Matter?"

"What was that?" Alastair hissed, his icy gaze shifting to Gifre, whose eyes went wide and his blood went cold. Alastair wasn't just the God of Death in title alone. He embodied death. He radiated death. He was death itself. "Soul Matter belongs in the Pool of Life. Ask me that again and the next soul I reap will be yours!"

Gifre's jaw dropped, and he looked at Rexlord the way a child might look at a parent, expecting them to take over the situation.

"Don't antagonize him, Gifre," Rexlord scolded. "You know the consumption of Soul Matter is forbidden."

Gifre scoffed and rolled his eyes, but said nothing more. He sat back down at the chess table, avoiding Alastair's murderous gaze.

"Alastair..." Rexlord rested his chin against his hand, looking down on the Reaper. "Why are you here?"

"Because of this!" he shouted, holding up the Soul Matter again. "Why should I be subjected to such a repulsive act? Keep your Gods in line—they're disrupting the balance! Stop allowing them to toy with mortals who are just trying to live out their lives in peace!"

"Even if I could meet that demand," Rexlord said with a sigh, "you and I both know they'd find a way. They're bored and they're crafty... a dangerous combination."

"So, you're just going to let Hildegarde get away with this, even though I'm standing here with the evidence in my hand? The Gods aren't supposed to interfere with mortal lives! Why should I be forced to cut them short for her entertainment? Make her stop!"

"Hildegarde..." Rexlord's gaze moved to the God of War, a look of annoyance in his eyes. "Is this really your doing?"

"I only gave him a little nudge out the door," she told him with a smirk. "He was already mad at the world, I just supported him."

"That's a lie!" The Reaper took a threatening step forward. "You cultivated his anger, and you gave him the power and weapons to move forward. You continued to push him, and I had to perform a Reaping because he put his hands on me when I tried to collect his fallen companions!"

Even Rexlord looked shocked at Alastair's statement. No one could touch Death without his permission, not even other Gods. To do such a thing meant a slow, excruciating death. The only thing to end the agony would be for Alastair to perform a Reaping, forcibly separating the soul from the body so they couldn't feel pain anymore. Although, the God of Death wasn't always so merciful.

"You're supposed to be the king," Alastair said, his voice low and menacing as he turned his back to them. "Keep your Gods in line, or I'll take matters into my own hands. I was alone in the beginning—I won't mind being alone again."

Rexlord tensed, but said nothing more as the God of Death stormed out, carrying the icy air away with him, and the doors slammed shut behind him. The throne room remained silent and tense until Hildegarde laughed.

"Take matters into his own hands? Are you really going to let him talk to you that way, Rex? You're the king, and he—"

"He could have just killed us all if he wanted to."

She fell silent, sharing a look of concern with Gifre. She laughed again, but instead of her loud, teasing laugh, it was quiet and nervous.

"What are you talking about?" Gifre asked. "We're Gods."

"And?" Rexlord leaned back in his seat, letting out a long sigh. "You still have a soul that would be free for the taking if only Alastair suddenly decided to take it. You would both do well to keep that in mind, since you seem so bent on distressing him. That especially goes for you, Hildegarde."

"Oh, please." Hildegarde laughed and rolled her eyes. "Alastair doesn't frighten me."

"He should. You've been warned."