It is not to reap you that the Grim Reaper wields his scythe. On your voyage, it will shield you from something.

The terror of the unknown is unparalleled in its destructive power. The limitless potential for terror that exists prior to the removal of the mask is more scary than any horrific face that has been found so far.

Because of our simplistic view of the natural world, we humans are ensnared by the terrible dread of dying. According to our estimation, it is the last uncharted territory, the most massive unknown from which no expedition can ever emerge. So we endure whatever harm we can think of in order to cling to even the most depressing and painful lives.

However, one should not be afraid of death as it is generally known. All the way down to the last spasm of neuronal flashing, we have seen, caused, measured, and documented everything. I didn't see why I should be scared of the nothingness that reason said I might anticipate even as I lay dying.

I had nothing to fear because I would never die while I was alive. There would be no need to be afraid after I died since I would no longer have the capacity to feel anything. I found solace in that idea as I sensed my heart's last frantic fight against the impending doom. A last nagging doubt sprang into my head as I was finally settling down for the night:

What if the real terror isn't death itself? What if it's the other side?

I was so distraught that I slipped beyond the realm of earthly comprehension, into a realm that was as rationally abandoned as my own existence had become. The noise of the machines and the nurses had faded from the room, as if I were in the middle of a rapidly approaching twilight. Everything seemed to be a mirror or echo of something that had been. The world was starting to seem less and less genuine as time went on...

It wasn't as if the sight, sound, and existence itself were just vanishing. Beside me, it was taking shape like a person. At first, the figure looked more real than my room, but as time went on, it grew so genuine that everything else seemed surreal in comparison.

A dark cloak shrouded him. Not black per se, but the whole essence of it. Seeing a tiger for the first time after staring at a child's simplistic artwork for all your life would be like that. Every basic atom and the passage of time itself splintered across his scythe as reality swirled about him like a paintbrush through watercolours.

I was sure it was this. We were trained to dread death without words because of this. To protect myself from the Reaper's glare, I clung to my hospital blanket, but the cotton, which had been so delicate before, was now seeping through my fingers like a mist. At that same moment, I realised that the spectre was the only thing that mattered to me, and that nothing could save me from his clutches.

*Time is running out.*

Words were not used. As if imbued with an indisputable physical rule as clear as gravity, the weight of this information caused my brain to hurt, and I became acutely conscious of my tardiness.

There is no time for the customary speech. Do it quickly.

I was engulfed in his presence like sand in a storm. We were outside the hospital before I could even comprehend what was happening; we were going so fast that everything around me became a haze of dazzling lights.

Hopefully, IT has grown tired of being patient and waiting for you.

My mind was overwhelmed with questions, and none of them were getting any traction.

*Be silent. That is impressive. Requests are often excessive.*

"What's the point?" I inquired. He was so much more substantial than I was, and my voice seemed lifeless in contrast. "How can I try to comprehend something so beyond mortal knowledge?"

Nobody can. Asking, nevertheless, is inherently human.

We weren't going anywhere. Our speed, if anything, was picking up. Nothing like sprinting or flying occurred to me. It seemed more like everything else was rushing by us while we remained still. I couldn't be sure, but I felt like we had gone underground due to the heavy wet scent and the hazy darkness.

"So, I have a question," I inquired. "What else is here besides you?"

Because of this, asking questions serves no use. Fate is neither a location nor a person. Yes, that's all.

Unsettling idea, all the more so as a rising scream started resonating off the rocks around me. The air was becoming more hot and thick, and it seemed like we were still plunging into the Earth. The volume kept going up, as if the whole planet were in agony.

"Then what is IT?"

I am here to shield you from it.

With a sudden slash of his scythe, the rocks parted, revealing a vast cavern with a lake below.

"But I thought you said you were all there is."

No, I said that Death was the only reality.

We had stopped moving. The scythe reflected light that trickled into the water from an invisible source. The light, instead of reflecting or fading once inside, whirled and swirled like glowing oil.

"I thought you were Death."

*Death lacks humanity.*

There was a light within the water that seemed to be living its own life. With the mysterious force, the still surface started to swirl. Realising that I was the energy pouring into the lake was a difficult process for my disorganised thoughts. Even though we were now existing as a light beam plunging into the ocean, I could still feel myself being entangled with the figure.

I was irritated even though I knew I wouldn't comprehend. When death is the only constant, then what exactly is IT? When I arrived, what did I find? I was unable to talk as the water encircled me, yet I managed to breathe somehow.

The time has come.

I felt a presence in the water nearby. My legs were seized and pulled downward by hands. Even realising I had limbs again was astonishment enough. I felt as if this body did not belong to me because of how foreign they felt. Twice the scythe's light flashed. The grip was released, and the screams erupted again. I could only make out the insanity of the Reaper's thrashing water as the sound of combat.

As the Earth's rumble intensified, the sounds of human cries caused the water around me to tremble and compress as if it were a live substance. Was it sliced by the Reaper? Will I be okay? In the water, I tried to figure out my new body, but the moment I felt like I was starting to have a handle on things, the hands grabbed me again. As I stumbled my way down, my efforts to free myself from their crushing hold were in futile.

"What is here?" I fought the overwhelming liquid by yelling. "What is happening?"

Unfortunately, I lost all feeling of the Reaper's presence. Even worse than the intolerable heat was the icy depths that the hands were pulling me into. I felt a dazzling light at the lake's base, and the hands pulled me relentlessly forward even as I fought against it.

My apologies. It was too much for me to handle. The source seemed to be somewhat far at this point. Next time, we will give it another go.

Everything from the intense heat and pressure to the deafening glare and the sound of my own dragging hands. Screaming, I shut my eyes. Now that I was out of the water, all I could do was scream. Whatever had taken me, I couldn't bring myself to look at IT. Whatever seemed like Death but wasn't—something not even the Grim Reaper could vanquish.

Words came next. Words said by a genuine person. I couldn't make sense of them since my senses were so overwhelmed, but I'm assuming they were something like:

You have my congratulations! A healthy newborn boy, that's him.

The majority of humans are unable to recall either their date of birth or their date of death. Their identities are identical, as I recall them both from memory.