It was blank. Complete and utter white. No life, no death, no wind, nothing. There was no sense of gravity and there was no air to breathe. It was like being stuck in limbo, seeing nothing, feeling nothing, just a faint feel of oppression. A flicker of pure darkness pierced the emptiness and a figure formed, shadows accumulating from thin air and morphing into a single, ethereal being. He stood at a tall seven feet with black billowing capes shrouding his body, hiding the thin body structure. Glowing crimson eyes were set deep in a bare skull and bony, skinless hands grasped onto a large, dangerous scythe tinted purple with deadly poison. The creature sighed once, echoing in the space, and it was weighed down heavily with the weight of the world and even beyond. Dread surrounded his person like an aura that warned others away, and he had an appearance of lethality about him.
He clapped his hands together and another person began to appear, much smaller, barely even four feet long, landing in the creature's arms, unconscious. The three-year-old girl was dusty, with straggly curls of orange fanned out beneath her head and pale skin littered with bruises and cuts. She was malnourished and underfed, hints of hardship even at her young age.
The creature murmured, "Sorry, my dear. The world will eventually depend on you, though. I hate interfering, but it's necessary." Raising one hand up he began to fly through nearly fifty ancient symbols in a matter of seconds, twisting and bending his fingers with a skilled nimbleness that would leave seamstresses seething in jealousy. "Gift of the Shinigami!" He called out, then touched the girl's forehead. Her eyes flew open and she gasped, onyx eyes wide as dots of light peppered her orbs, almost like the stars dotting the night sky. Then she was gone, vanishing back into the mortal realm, leaving none but the Death God in his world of nothing.