Lukas whispers softly to her "She's died now. He's n-n-not from now. He's from right when they t-t-t-took hims."
"You can find mum?" The twin sniffles, "You can?"
Weaver silently summoned his scythe. Black smoke wreathed his body, his face hidden, hands pale and skeletal.
"Negotiate? One does not negotiate with fate." His voice was soft, but seemed to echo from every direction.
His thoughts slowed, his mind locking into place, ignoring past memories.
"M-m-mum? Is that you?" He whispered softly, too scared to open his eyes and face the world.