The Boy Upon Death: Reaper’s Last Call by J. Robert Adams

Prologue: The Cold Existence

My existence is as cold as my birth. I was born with both knowledge and will—an inevitability for my kind. Drawn to the final moments of mortal life, we come into being. Some of us become Reapers, tasked solely with ferrying souls to their afterlife. Others crave the power of souls, calling themselves Gods of Death. They believe that devouring or absorbing souls grants them greater might, but such power only deepens their coldness and emptiness. The Veil—the great boundary between life and the afterlife—exists as the ultimate destination for souls. It does not judge or choose; it simply awaits those ready to cross. Souls unwilling to pass linger in the mortal world, their tether to the Veil slowly degrading. Once that connection is broken, they descend into madness, becoming fragmented and unstable, unable to find peace. For Reapers, our role is clear: guide the souls before they are lost. Yet even for us, there are choices. We are born as extensions of the Veil, tethered to it as both our origin and our end. At any time, a Reaper may choose to return to the Veil, to be reabsorbed into its vastness and find peace. But there is a second path—one far more dangerous and final. A Reaper may sever their tether to the Veil, abandoning their purpose and embracing free will. These fallen ones become what we call Gods of Death. Free from the Veil’s guidance, they face a choice: help lost souls or exploit them for power. Many succumb to the hunger, consuming souls to strengthen themselves. These beings often destroy themselves, transforming into husks—twisted, empty shells driven mad by their own excesses. I have not chosen to rejoin the Veil, though the option tempts me in moments of despair. And I have not severed my tether, though I sometimes wonder what lies beyond that severance. Instead, I remain a Reaper. But the cold emptiness of my existence grows heavier with each passing year. I guide souls to the Veil, knowing that my own tether will never allow me rest. The souls need us, but who guides the Reapers? Who saves us from the weight of eternity? Perhaps the answer lies in the unknown. In the countless eons of existence, I have never questioned my role—until now. The faint stirrings of doubt creep into my thoughts, like cracks forming in the ice. The time will come when I must choose: to remain a servant of the Veil, to seek peace within it, or to become something greater—or perhaps something worse. This is the story of how I began to question eternity. Of how I—a guide to the lost—found myself on a path to becoming something entirely new.