Long ago, there were two brothers named Ken and Abe—which are oddly Western names for an ancient story that takes place in the Middle East, but life is full of surprises like that. Anyway, Ken and Abe fought often, but it was always sibling rivalry, and deep down they loved each other. Then one day, Ken died. His soul, however, was unable to get its lights, because he happened to be someone's last reap—which of course meant that Ken was now destined to be a reaper, walking the Earth as an undead man among the living, taking souls from those about to die and guiding them into their own lights. And, as all reapers before him did, it was also his job to kill people who had an appointment with death.
Ken accepted his job and was content with it, until that fateful appointment. During this time, no one had last names, so reapers received only a single letter with their times and locations of death. This assignment simply said A, with the location specified as the town center and a time of two hours from then. So Ken went to the center, and almost two hours later, he watched as his brother Abe strolled past him. No,he said to himself, it can't be. But it must be: Abe was there at the right place at the right time...he must be the A who had an appointment with death, and Ken must be the reaper to kill him. You can't make me do this! he yelled in his head, at death itself, but he received no response. Knowing the consequences of leaving a soul alive beyond its expiration, Ken gave up and followed Abe on his walk.
As the dreadful time drew nearer, Ken brushed Abe's arm, marking his soul for reaping. And then the time came, and Ken knew he had no choice. He pulled the stone knife out of his belt—the one he always used to fulfill his assignments—and stabbed with all his might at his brother's back. But the knife stopped short, blocked from its target by Abe's satchel as he turned to investigate the noise he'd heard behind him.
Abe didn't see his brother, of course. Abe just saw a strange man with a knife, a threat, and he grabbed the man's arm. "Who are you and why do you mean me harm?" he asked.
Ken stood there, hesitating. Finally, after a long pause, he replied, "Abe, please, do not resist. It is your time, and I am here to take you. Please come peacefully; it will be much better for us both."
But Abe did not take threats lightly, and he became angered that this man would dare an attempt on his life. He quickly twisted the assailant's arm, stabbing the knife into the man's own chest. The man screamed and removed the knife, and Abe watched in vengeful horror as the wound began to heal before his eyes.
Ken felt the wrath build inside him. His own brother had stabbed him in the chest, an attack which would have killed him were he still alive. And death was trying to make him kill his own brother! And he had just attempted to do that! He was frustrated and mad: mad at himself, mad at Abe, and mad at death. In his rage, Ken swung the knife sharply across Abe's throat...and then Abe was dead.
Ken began to calm down and waited for his brother's soul to appear...but it never did. Instead, Ken watched in terror as a dark figure—which he decided must be a demon—rose from Abe's body. It was small and black, with spikes and sharp claws, and when it looked at Ken, he felt the cold grip of death within it. Ken backed away, stumbling, and ran from the demon, passing by his father Adam without realizing that Adam was ready for death to take him...
The demon couldn't remember everything, but it did know that the face of the man running away was its brother, and it did know that its brother had betrayed it. Its first and only instinct was to spread that favor around: to kill. And kill it did. Every human who died at the hands of this vengeful spirit, every human who was not yet supposed to die, became a new demon. A corrupted, twisted, angry soul with nowhere to go.
Eventually, after thousands of Gravelings had been born, their wrath began to subside. They still craved death, but they began to approach it more carefully. If Ken had just stuck to the appointments and killed the right person, they would not exist. They would not be stuck here on Earth, filled with homicidal mania. They could have been normal souls finding eternal joy in their lights. It was the reaper's fault, and they were going to make sure this would never happen again. Unable to kill any reapers, they decided they'd simply take their job from them: from now on, all appointments would be met by Gravelings. They would ensure the right person died at the right time, never before. And if a reaper ever screwed up again, they would make their unlife a living hell. And the reapers accepted this: the benefit of not having to kill anyone was too good to pass up.
Many thousands of years later, a reaper named Mason would, in a fit of defensive rage, murder an abusive man whose appointment had not yet come. And from his body would rise the first new Graveling since Abeling's rampage...