Silence reigned inside the sleeping household. The only sound to be found was the distressed breathing of a 3 year old, waiting to see if her outburst had been heard. Riley inhaled shakily, sitting up to better take in her surroundings. Noticing a lamp beside the bed, she flicked it on. Everything was recognizable in the most unsettling of ways, she observed. Like waking up from a dream and still being able to remember the details. The familiarity did nothing to assuage her mounting panic and anger.

Riley's thoughts were in overdrive, attempting to make sense of the situation. She had died and spoken to who she presumes to be Death. They then proceeded to, what? Fucking enlist her unwilling services for world saving? 'What does that even entail?!' She silently fumed. And now, looking down at her small hands, she realizes she's in the body of a goddamn toddler.

"Fucking shit!" Riley quietly exclaimed.

The memories she now has of the last few years are vague and spotty at best. Which makes sense when she thinks about it, 3 year olds are not known for their excellent thought retention. She knows she has new parents and a grandfather, that this was her room, and some more basic day to day details, but that's where it ends. She was beginning to hyperventilate as her mind swirled with even more questions. One of the loudest being, 'Did I steal this body?'

"No, it is your body." A familiar voice stated. Startled from her meltdown, Riley choked on air as she jerked her head up towards the speaker.

"H-huh?" She stuttered. The figure appeared vaguely amused by her predicament. 'Fucking bastard.'

"This body," He gestured broadly in her direction, "is yours. You did not take it." It took a second for her rattled mind to process what he said.

"Oh, thank god. I thought I killed a child." Some of the tension visibly drained from Riley as she let out a breath in relief. The figure gazed at the girl contemplatively, hoping he wouldn't regret his decision. He reminded himself of why he's doing this.

Death is old. So very very old. He has been in existence longer than anyone can fathom. He has watched the rise and fall of countless civilizations; witnessed the birth of every species and their inevitable death. He's been there for it all, since the beginning or even a few seconds before. Because there can be no life without death. Everything has an end, including himself. He will be the one to reap himself when the universe dies. And when another reforms, so too will he.

That separation from literally everything is damaging to the psyche. Death knows he can be apathetic at times. Being so far removed from the living realm with only an occasional visit from his siblings has made him detached. He's lonely, slowly losing it, and becoming a danger to it all. That saying, "With great power comes great responsibility." is true. A ruler cannot hope to truly lead their kingdom to greatness without compassion. Humans may collapse empires, but Death could end worlds.

To solve this issue, Death consulted with his sister, Destiny, in hopes of finding someone able to stand with him and share his burdens with. She discovered one who fit the criteria. A descendant of a well known family of necromancers. So he created the Hallows and gave them to the Peverell brothers. The wizards believe that if one were to collect them all, then they will become the Master of Death. However, in truth, the artifacts were meant to be passed down until they reached the right person. The second the intended recipient touched one of the Hallows, they become Death's favored and when they die, they will master death.

Death was distressed with how his favored's life had progressed and his other sister, Fate, was furious that her plans were not being followed. He knew he'd be able to fix the damage when they met. However, when his favored first died, he was hijacked in the veil before Death could talk to them. He still doesn't know who aided that manipulative bastard. And when his favored died for the final time, he was broken. His soul torn and his spirit trampled.

Death was distraught and Fate was inconsolable. She vowed she would find some way to fix it. So, when time passed and a girl randomly showed up in his realm one day, and had no business being there, he knew it had to be Fate… Literally. It was impulsive, but had to be done.

Death gazed down at that same girl as she collected herself and couldn't help but to admire his handiwork. He may not have created her per se, but he did have a hand in it, with the help of his sister, Fate. Family was the criteria, so Death chose the son of his favored's forgotten grand-uncle and Fate pulled some strings to allow Death to implant Riley's soul in his future child.

Riley has the silvery blue eyes of the Blacks and shared a few facial features as his favored. It was more of the Black family characteristics passed down from their respective grandparents. They both had similar brows, aristocratic cheekbones, and black hair. Although, Riley's was more a mass of wavy curls than the nest of untamable curls of his favored.

"Who even are you?" Riley questioned, breaking Death from his train of thought.

"Death." He stated. Riley gaped at him for a moment.

"I fucking knew it!" She pointed at him victoriously.

Her excited grin melted into a scowl. Her hands balled into fists and began shaking with repressed fury. Death nearly took a step back before remembering himself. 'Her glare is like ice,' he mused. Before realizing that the temperature of the room really had dropped a few degrees. Her next sentence made her ire even more impressive when her shriek was accompanied by all the lightbulbs exploding.

"You have a lot of fucking explaining to do, you limp dick fuck!"