• He raised his left hand. "this... what is this?" The scenario displayed like a worn battlefield tattered and burned with the fires that could only come from war.
    "how did...?" he glanced around and away from his hand as he surveyed the corpses of those destroyed around him. body upon body, all with the look of fear plastered elegantly on their faces. Even in death they seemed to run from him. "what happened?"
    he recalled a vision.
    A solitary figure standing in the midst of a chaos far greater. Four ghastly steeds and a large beast only associated with despair and destruction. A dragon of sorts. from its mouth fire, like a malevolence incarnate, poored without end untill all was consumed in its maw.
    when the fire had receeded he saw the lone figure again. Standing against a legion of adversaries the figure paused. It did not fear, nor did it hesitate. It simply performed to the best of its abilities, making combat of such massive numbers seem a form of art.
    "no... what is this?" he shook his head as the figure turned around to reveal a familiar face. His face.
    It was then that a rider appeared attop each of the steeds, all except for one. Then there was a voice of thunder rolling in the heaves.
    "we say let it be done. come and see what we offer you. take unto the thy scythe and reap that which we have sewn." At the voice's command a pale horse rode to the figure. "become our rider. our devine punishmen and your enemies shall parish beneath your flames." The figure mounted the pale horse and raised his left hand to reveal a bonechilling scythe forged from what appeared the depths of oblivion.
    "thy will be done" the figure commanded as he rode headlong into the enemy horde.
    "then it is so... i am... death." he whispered into the receeding sunlight. in that moment he would wish for darkness as it was the one place light could not shine on the unfortunate truth. He had become that which he feared. he had become death.