Chapter 1

Darkness enveloped Mortis Eldridge, wrapping him in its comforting embrace as he drifted through the void between worlds. His consciousness, once tethered to the mortal realm, now floated aimlessly, detached from time and space. Echoes of his former life whispered through the emptiness, haunting reminders of the choices that led him here.

The scent of antiseptic still lingered in his senses, a stark reminder of the pharmacy he had tended to with meticulous care. He had been a man of science, a pharmacist who believed in the power of medicine to heal, to alleviate pain, to extend life. Yet, in a cruel twist of fate, it was the very place of healing that had become the stage for his untimely demise. A desperate soul, a woman with haunted eyes, had plunged him into this abyss. Her actions, driven by an addiction that clouded her judgment, had snatched away his future in a moment of chaotic frenzy.

Amidst the obsidian expanse, a figure materialized, shrouded in robes as black as the abyss itself. The Grim Reaper, harbinger of death, stood before Mortis, its presence a chilling echo of finality. Yet, within the depths of its hooded visage, there flickered a glimmer of remorse, a spark of empathy amidst the darkness.

"I have come for you, Mortis Eldridge," the Reaper's voice resonated, its tone both somber and solemn. "Your time in the mortal realm has ended."

Mortis gazed upon the spectral figure, his heart heavy with resignation. He had known this moment would come, had felt the icy grip of mortality creeping ever closer with each passing day. And yet, as the Reaper beckoned him towards the unknown, he could not help but feel a pang of regret—for the lives left unlived, for the dreams left unfulfilled.

"Ended?" Mortis challenged, his voice rising in a mix of anger and disbelief. "Just like that? Cut down by a soul lost to the very afflictions I sought to cure? Where is the justice in that?" His mind raced, seeking a flaw in this final judgment, a loophole that might return him to the life he'd been torn from so abruptly.

But before Mortis could voice his protest further, another presence emerged—a deity, radiant and resplendent, its form bathed in celestial light. She was a goddess of unparalleled beauty, her features sculpted by the hands of divine artisans. Long tendrils of golden hair cascaded down her shoulders, crowned by a tiara adorned with shimmering gemstones. Her eyes, pools of ethereal wisdom, held within them the secrets of the cosmos, while her smile bespoke a kindness that transcended mortal understanding.

Yet, it was her eyes that held Mortis's gaze captive—a pair of fiery orbs, blazing with a crimson intensity that seared into his very soul.

"Death," the goddess intoned, her voice a symphony of celestial harmonies that resonated through the void. "Your hand has been too hasty in claiming this soul. Mortis Eldridge still has a role to play in the tapestry of existence."

Mortis's confusion grew as he turned towards the luminous figure. "A role? In death, what role could possibly await me?" he questioned, his scientific mind grappling with the notion of purpose beyond life. "Is this not the end, then? Am I to believe in preordained destiny now?"

The Reaper bowed its head, a gesture of deference to the divine will that governed all things. "Forgive me, my lady," it murmured, its voice a whisper carried on the winds of eternity. "I acted in haste, blinded by the inevitability of my task."

The goddess turned her gaze towards Mortis, her eyes alight with a divine wisdom that transcended mortal comprehension. "Mortis Eldridge," she spoke, her voice a gentle melody that stirred the depths of his soul. "Your journey in the mortal realm has ended, but a new path awaits you—a realm of magic and mystery, where the boundaries of possibility are limitless."

Mortis's skepticism surfaced once again. "Magic and mystery? I am a man of facts and evidence. How can I accept this departure from all I know to be true?" His voice betrayed the turmoil within, the struggle to reconcile his understanding of the world with the reality he now faced.

With a gesture of her hand, the goddess wove a tapestry of light, a portal shimmering with iridescent hues amidst the darkness. "Step through this gateway, Mortis Eldridge," she beckoned, her voice a soothing balm that eased his troubled spirit. "Embrace your destiny, and let your light shine anew in a world ripe with potential."

As Mortis took a step forward, a sharp pain lanced through his essence, a wrenching sensation that tore at the very fabric of his being. The Reaper's touch had left its mark—a scar upon his soul, a fracture in the tapestry of his existence.

The goddess's eyes narrowed with concern as she beheld the damage wrought upon Mortis's spirit. "Fear not, mortal," she reassured, her voice a comforting echo amidst the tumult. "Though your soul may be wounded, it is not beyond repair. With time, it shall heal, and you shall once again wield the power that is your birthright."

Mortis hesitated, his thoughts a whirlwind of doubt and fear. Could he truly step into this new existence, leaving behind all he had known and understood about life and death? The promise of healing was a balm, but it was the uncertainty that gnawed at him, the fear of what lay beyond this threshold.

With a final nod of determination, Mortis stepped through the portal, leaving behind the void and the echoes of his past life. As the portal closed behind him, plunging him into the kaleidoscopic embrace of his new reality, he felt a surge of anticipation coursing through his veins.