Title: Only Death Chooses Who Stays — And Today, He Chose You
The sky above the ruins of the compound was grey, heavy with the ash of lost battles. Rubble stretched as far as the eye could see, metal twisted like bones shattered under the weight of inevitability.
Wanda Maximoff stood alone, crimson energy dancing faintly over her hands — energy she no longer feared.
Not after her training.
Not after him.
She had learned to bend the chaos, sharpen it like a blade, cradle it like fragile glass — all under the cold, clinical guidance of Daniel. The one who walks between life and death. The one who chose when the Reapers moved. The one who reaped his own family — and never flinched.
His pain was etched into his eyes, hidden beneath smirks and tailored suits, but it was there. She had seen it. Felt it. Understood it, in ways no one else ever could.
That's why when his presence carved into reality behind her — silent, absolute — she didn't react with fear.
She exhaled slowly.
"Took you long enough," she muttered, not turning.
Daniel's voice came like a razor sliding through silk, emotionless yet heavy with buried weight.
"I told you grief is a leash, Scarlet." His boots crunched softly over broken stone as he approached. "It keeps you chained, predictable. But you… you've been learning."
Her crimson energy pulsed, steady, unwavering — even through the ache gripping her chest.
"You trained me to bury it, Daniel," she replied, voice low, fierce. "To own it. Not let it own me."
He smirked faintly. "Smart girl."
A rift tore open beside them — space folding like cheap paper under Daniel's will. Through it, shimmering fragments of gold and grey assembled, reconstructing what the universe had broken:
Visão.
Whole. Restored. His synthetic form flawless, his eyes empty — at first — then sharp, calculating, alive.
Wanda's heart twisted.
"I thought I lost him," her voice cracked, power flickering dangerously. "You said—"
"I said loss defines mortals," Daniel interrupted, cold and smooth. "But I'm not mortal. And neither are you, not anymore."
She turned then, eyes locking onto his — those endless grey pools heavy with knowledge, with scars — with memories of ceifing his own blood.
"Why?" she whispered. "Why give him back? You don't—"
"I don't give," Daniel cut her off, trench coat rippling like smoke, Reaper shadows flickering behind him. "I decide. I control who stays buried and who walks again. And today? You earned this."
Visão blinked, recognition dawning, eyes settling on her with gentle confusion.
"Wanda…?"
She faltered, knees trembling, but held firm.
Daniel stepped closer, his aura bleeding death — subtle, suffocating. The faint outlines of Ceifadores coiled behind him like watchful serpents, visible only to those who knew the truth.
"I reaped my own parents," his voice dropped, weight slicing through the moment like a scalpel. "My sister. Watched their souls pass through my hands, no one else worthy to take them. You think you're the only one drowning?"
Her eyes shimmered, crimson threads wavering, but no tears fell.
"We both drown, Scarlet," Daniel's voice softened, just for her. "But we learn to breathe under it."
The portal shimmered shut, Visão steady beside her now, alive — by Death's decree alone.
Daniel turned, shadows licking at his heels.
"There's bigger games at play," his voice cold once more, brutal and inevitable. "Thanos plays at being a god. Let him. When the dust settles, when reality cracks — we'll be there."
Wanda nodded slowly, fingers brushing Visão's as grounding — but her eyes never left Daniel.
"Thank you," she whispered, power restrained, sharp, lethal. "For everything."
He smirked faintly.
"Don't thank me. You're mine now — whether you like it or not."
And with that, Daniel vanished, the faint echo of Reapers lingering behind like shadows waiting for their moment.
The universe? It just got its warning.
Death chooses. No one else.
And today… Death chose mercy.