The son of death.

There was a realm of endless strings and ties, which was a solace for every supernatural creature that sought answers. It was a beautiful realm whose nature was undisturbed. It's waters were still, as if they bore no life. It's air was pure, devoid of life and it's trees flourished silently. Nothing there felt real or tangible, even time was distorted there.

Myriads of invisible strings floated in it's air of this realm and every second, a string snapped and vanished in a small haze of smoke. 

In this realm was only one palace, right in the middle. It's beginning and end were endless just as the darkness and silence within it. 

In that darkness, one reaper whose face covered with a golden mask, with the exception of blood red eyes walked with strong strides until he came to three thrones and he fell onto his knees.