Sowhere beyond existence, where even the concept of "where" did not exist, two voices clashed in the abyss. There was no light, no dark, no up or down—just an expanse so empty that emptiness itself had given up trying to exist. Just the raw absence of everything.
And yet, two voices shattered the silence like a cosmic argunt that had been going on since the first breath was ever drawn—two ancient forces bickered like children in the backseat of a car on an endless road trip.
"You wouldn't even exist without ," Life declared, voice ringing with warmth, with the energy of a heartbeat, with the crackling of fire and the hum of growing roots. "I am the first inhale, the rush of blood in a newborn's veins, the electric thrill of survival. I am the lover's first kiss, the poet's inspiration, the roar of the ocean and the laughter of the stars. Every dream, every triumph, every damn thing worth rembering? That's , bitch.
"People write songs about , they chase , they celebrate ! What do you have, huh? A fucking tombstone? A sad little eulogy?"
Death scoffed, slow and amused but unimpressed, like an old wolf stretching in the cold. "Cute speech. But let's be real—without , you'd be nothing but an endless, bloated ss of unfinished business. I am the full stop to your run-on sentence. The weight that gives aning to every fleeting mont. The reason kings weep and warriors charge into battle. I am silence after the last note of a song, the relief of a final breath, the art in knowing when to fucking let go.
"If you stretched on forever, you'd be worthless. What's a sunrise if it never sets? What's a mont if it lasts forever? Boring as shit, that's what. I give you urgency. I give you aning."
"Oh, shut up," Life snapped. "You're just a side effect. An afterthought. A parasite feeding off my work. I build, I create, I push things forward. You? You just wait around like so lazy bastard, taking credit when things end."
Death chuckled. "You talk a lot for soone who loses every damn ti. The second you make sothing, I'm already counting down until I take it back. What's more powerful? The artist or the eraser?"
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"Until it crumbles."
"mories are eternal."
"Until they fade."
"Oh, fuck off with the poetic bullshit," Life groaned. "People fight for . They love , they cling to , they build empires just to make better. What do they do with you? Fear. Grieve. Dread. You're literally the bad ending everyone tries to avoid."
"Right, because avoiding always works out so well," Death snorted. "Let's be real—every single thing you create? I take. Every building crumbles. Every song fades. Every empire? Dust. And the best part? No matter how much they run, they all end up in my arms—a warm peaceful embrace, they never think they need until the very last mont."
Life bristled. "That's your flex? That you're the inevitable last stop? What kind of lazy-ass purpose is that?"
"Oh, I dunno," Death drawled. "Maybe the kind that keeps the universe from being a cluttered ss of overgrown forests, overpopulated cities, and bodies that refuse to rot. You ever seen a world where you go unchecked? It's a fucking nightmare. Things have to end, Life. Otherwise, your precious 'beauty' turns into a suffocating ss."
Life rolled their taphorical eyes. "And yet, you're the villain. People fight against you. They beg to stay. No one wants you."
"Oh, yeah? And when they're tired? When they're in pain? When they've had enough of your relentless, exhausting bullshit? They call . They whisper my na like a prayer. I'm not just the end—I'm rcy. I'm peace."
Life snarled. "You act like you're so important, but you're just the absence of . You don't do shit except end things. I spark love—you snuff it out. I create legends—you bury them. I give people purpose, and you're just a rude little bastard who says, 'Ti's up.'"
Death humd, thoughtful. "And yet, people fear more than they love you."
Life faltered, and Death smirked. "See, I'm not just the end. I'm the reason they run faster, love harder, fight longer. Without , there's no urgency, no passion, no fire in their bones. Without , they take you for granted."
Life crossed its arms. "Without , you wouldn't have anything to take."
"And without , you wouldn't be a miracle."
For the first ti, silence settled between them. Not the heavy, suffocating silence of Death, nor the restless, vibrating hush of Life—but sothing else. A pause. A thought.
Life broke the silence with a scoff. "You're just the absence of . A void."
"And yet," Death said smoothly, "here we are. You and , still arguing, still tied together. You can't exist without ."
The void settled, like the universe itself was considering their words.
Then, a sigh. A third voice. Older. Wiser. Exhausted. Exasperated!
"Will you two ever shut up? Every damn ti, all you do is argue!"
Life and Death were on the verge of shouting again, but they stopped, looking up at them. Third. The one who had always been there. Watching. Guiding. But mostly just sighing, like they couldn't believe they was still stuck with these two.
"You two," they muttered, exasperation heavy in their voice. "Why are you even arguing? You're just two sides of the sa damn coin."
Life blinked, squinting in the dark, silent expanse. "What do you an, 'two sides of the sa coin?' We're not the sa, though. I'm the reason things keep going, the heartbeat, the pulse. Without , there's no nothing—you get that?"
Death leaned back, a grin pulling at the edge of his lips. "And I'm the one who takes it all back. You can't have a rise without a fall, sweetheart. I give the final word. The last breath. Without , it's just... endless chatter and chaos." Third sighed.
Can they even ever listen to her for more than two—yeah, ti was aningless here, it could be eternity or even an instant.
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