A low, rumbling voice spoke to me from the shadows.
You have been chosen to succeed me, it said. I am the God of Death. For eons, I have judged the souls of the dead. But now, I am tired. My power wanes, and I must pass on the mantle to a worthy successor.
I stepped forward, my heart pounding in my chest. Why have you chosen me? I asked.
The God of Death chuckled, a dry, mirthless sound. You have a strong will to live, he said. But that is not all. You also have something that I possess. Something that sets us apart from the other gods.
What is that? I asked, my curiosity piqued.
The God of Death stepped forward, his hood falling away to reveal a skull-like face with glowing blue eyes.
We are both...outcasts, he said. Me, for my power to kill. You, for your...
He paused, as if searching for the right word.
Your uniqueness, he finished.