Michael felt that same pull — that same call. However, this time, it felt stronger, and he frowned at the feeling. He quickly dismissed his thoughts about the matter. He had a soul to guide.

Death stepped forward, leaving the bustling high street and appearing in a location unknown to him. His eyes scanned the area, taking in his surroundings.

Michael's heart was heavy. These were the worst kind of deaths: lives had been cut too short.

Two cars had collided at high speeds head-on, sending each vehicle spinning out of control. One had stopped in its tracks, its crumple zone completely destroyed, yet their driver remained unscathed, left with only a concussion and a few cuts and bruises.

The same, however, could not be said for the driver of the second car.

Their vehicle had been flipped, as the car had been hit by the first car in its right side with such a force that it had been sent flying. It had continued rolling, only to stop when the car's body collided with a tree. The driver inside was unconscious, his bones broken, his organs severely damaged and his ligaments torn. There was no saving this man — Death knew this.

Death stepped forward, positioning himself next to the driver's side of the second vehicle. All he could do was wait and he knew this.

He sent his time analysing the unconscious man, whose chest was rising and falling weakly. The man was young and of Kiwi descent, with short dark hair and tanned skin. His jaw was sharp and tattoos adorned his slim yet muscular frame. Michael had to admit, the man was beautiful. The young man looked angelic, even on his journey to the afterlife.

Death watched as the man's chest rose for the last time. He closed his eyes, breathing in deeply. Having had the time to study the man, he had come to the realisation that the dark-haired boy was merely nineteen or so. The boy had only just stopped being a child.

Death watched as the confused soul left the broken body. As it rose in the air, before finding its way back down, his two feet planted firmly on the pavement. They made eye-contact, the lost soul and Death, and Death stepped forward.

But Death felt no pull, no tug. There was no instinct telling him which way to guide the soul. Death felt absolutely nothing.

This was new.