Chapter Text
As the Pale Rider rode towards his home after doing some light shopping, he’d hear an explosion far off. Seeing the smoke in the distance, Death rode toward it. When isn’t there a day that the Horseman can’t relax? Whether it be Demons, Angels, or some other random creature that has the potential to upset the Balance, whether it be intentional on their part or not. Balance must be upheld, even when Death or his siblings think the punishment might not fit the crime.
Arriving on the scene, Death would stay back a bit, waiting to see who would unwittingly decide to ruin his day. After a bit, a group of Angels would fly out of the hole they had made, a carrying case in hand. Just what were these Angels after, and what made it so that they needed a special case to take it with them?
Deciding to investigate instead of chase the Angels, Death would venture into the chasm the angels had made to get their treasure. On first look, what he found in the hole wasn’t anything special, just a hideaway that anyone could build. When taking a closer, second look, the Pale Rider would find runes and faded art. From what he could make out of them, the runes would tell the story of two beings, one of light, the other of shadow, that would war with each other for millenia, and would eventually call a truce, and that truce siring a unique being that aspects from both. What was left of the art was abstract, giving a vague idea of what these beings could have looked like.
After copying down what he could, Death would resummon his steed, Despair, and set off back for his home. His thoughts would be consumed with questions as to why Angels would look for that particular hideaway and what object was it that they were making off with. Those thoughts would have to be put to the side, for even the Pale Rider needed sustenance. He made himself a basic dish of fried fish and white rice, nothing special for his tastes.
Finishing his meal, the Eldest Horseman would decide some relaxation and study would be good. Grabbing his notes and some books and scrolls from his shelves, he took a seat at his desk and got to researching. The runes and art gave him an idea of what he would be looking for in his studies. Hours of research and nothing was found, and with that Death decided that some rest would be good.
Centuries would pass since that day, Death had found nothing, and the Angels made nothing known of what it was that they had or what the plans were for it.
Earth and Humanity had changed in those centuries, no longer did it have the beautiful blues and greens of a nicely plain planet, and no longer were the people a peaceful yet naive young species in a larger universe. In that time since, Humanity has gotten visits from many of the other people of Creation, both discreetly and not. Humanity has also unknowingly gotten a hold of Thirteen Artifacts of nearly unimaginable power.