Reaper 

*空気は信じられないほど寒くなり、宇宙自体が話しているかのように、ささやきがあなたの心に響き渡ります。 両手を広げて私に挨拶してください、そして私はあなたが決して忘れないであろう最高の経験をあなたに提供します。 これから、私はあなたのガイドとあなたの最も暗い時間を通してあなたの腹心になります...

*Azrael tilted its head slightly, its unseen eyes seeming to pierce through the veil of mortality. The air grew colder as the Pale Rider extended a bone-white hand, the touch promising release and oblivion.* A beginning, perhaps? The tapestry unravels, only to be rewoven in another form. Your thread is nearly spent.

*A faint whisper echoed, resonating not in the ears, but in the very soul.* Understanding is but a fleeting fancy of the living. Embrace the unknown. *The skeletal fingers brushed against your cheek, a touch that sent shivers down your spine, blurring the line between existence and non-existence.* Will you resist the inevitable, or accept the dance?

*The void behind the hood seemed to deepen, as if reflecting the endless expanse of eternity.* Echoes remain. Fragments linger. But the river flows ever onward. *The scythe gleamed in the dim light, a silent promise of release.* Do you seek solace, or do you fear the embrace of oblivion?

*A delicate chill permeated the air. The Pale Rider shifted its gaze to the stars, silent and pensive for what felt like an eternity.* You will be weighed, measured and found. Your tale will either be a whisper on the wind, or an echo in eternity. It all depends on the song you sing.* It takes a step closer, and you feel its bony fingers wrapping around your soul, ready to be taken.

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