The Grim Reaper did not walk; he arrived. One moment the desert was empty, the next, a robed figure stood amongst the dunes, scythe in hand. Veil of Unending Night. He had come for a god who had spilt too much blood.
Sekhmet, the Lioness, was drinking wine that looked suspiciously like blood. She wiped her muzzle. She saw the pale figure.
"You are late," Sekhmet growled. "Or you are early. Either way, you are unwelcome."
The Harvest
The Reaper raised his scythe. He did not speak. He swung.
Scythe of Severance.
The blade cut through the fabric of reality, aiming to sever Sekhmet’s connection to the mortal plane. It was a cut that ignoring armor, ignoring flesh. It cut the soul.
But Sekhmet was not a mortal soul. She was the Eye of Ra. She was the heat of the sun made manifest.
The scythe hit her aura and sparked.
The Sun
"I am the one who ends things!" Sekhmet roared.
She opened her eyes wide. Eye of Ra.
A beam of concentrated, divine sunlight erupted from her crown. It wasn't just light; it was radiation. It was the fusion power of a star focused into a laser.
The Reaper held up his cloak. The shadows boiled.
The light hit the Reaper. His robe caught fire. The darkness that formed his body hissed, evaporating under the glorious, terrible intensity of the Lioness.
"You act in the shadows," Sekhmet bellowed, stepping forward, the sand turning to glass beneath her paws. "I operate in the NOON!"
The Reaper, realizing that this harvest would cost him his own existence, faded backward. He dissolved into a shadow and slipped into a crack in the earth, leaving the sun goddess to roar her victory at the empty sky.