This is how the feud began. And how good and evil came to be.

It is an old tale of two brothers, not of blood but brothers nonetheless: Grim and Neco.

The two possessed strange abilities, though they did not know it at first. They worked in the wheat fields of a world unlike yours. It was Grim's job to cut away the wheat with a scythe, while Neco dug and churned the earth.

There was also a girl. No one remembers her name, or how she came to know the brothers. Both fell in love with her, though she was entranced by only one. And on the day that they came of age, Grim asked her to marry him. The woman accepted, for she loved him back, oblivious to the younger boy, Neco, who was left with only heartbreak and jealousy.

On the night of the wedding, inside a large barn filled with family, friends, and the bride, beautiful and pure in her long white gown, Neco finally snapped. Through blind jealousy and hatred, his strange abilities finally manifested.

The ground beneath them trembled and an almighty crack echoed across the Nethers as things—creatures—crawled up from the earth. Attendants screamed and fled as the undead, rotting and foul, hauled themselves from the soil. The corpse-like beings rallied before Neco, soldiers awaiting orders.

Neco commanded his army to kill them all, sparing only his brother and his brother's bride.

Before either Grim or his bride could muster a cry, the undead soldiers spread over the farm like a plague. Every last one of the attendants was chased down, the monsters breaking upon them in a sickening fury of teeth, talons, and godlike strength. Children, elders, husbands, wives—the fields were awash with their blood.

Having returned to Neco, the undead soldiers pushed Grim to his knees and held him there, beneath the arch under which he was to be wed.

Neco beckoned to the woman. When she didn't move, he took her by the arms and, despite her struggles, dragged her to the center of the aisle, in front of Grim.

Ignoring her curses, Neco took her by the chin and raised her head.

"Why would you do this?" he asked. "Why would you tear us apart like this?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," she replied.

"Why would you do this?" he said, gesturing to the massacre that surrounded them. "Was I not kind enough? Smart enough? Funny enough? Did I not work hard enough?" He dug his fingers into her cheeks, but she gave no reply, refusing to meet his eyes.

How could she not choose him?

Grim screamed in protest as Neco's hand moved to her throat. The younger brother held up a hand dismissively, not taking his eyes from the girl. She spat curses and words that would transform into hellfire if only she could muster the magic to do so. She wanted her words to hit, to break, to burn.

But as the last words left her lips, Neco's grip tightened.

Grim yelled and tried to lunge out of the soldiers' grip.

Neco ignored him. The soldiers gnashed their teeth in unison, a chorus of click, click, click. Neco looked down at the woman, smiled, and threw her into the waiting arms of his soldiers.

Her screams—accompanied by the sounds of tearing flesh and talons raking across bone—filled the barn. Blood seeped into the floorboards below. Soon her screams stopped, leaving only Grim's.

The world seemed to slow then. Grim managed to stand and, shrugging clear of the monsters, reached out the nearest window and grabbed his harvesting scythe—the very same he'd used while working alongside Neco. The wooden handle changed with his touch, turning from faded, water-swollen wood to glowing black metal. The blade curved and grew longer, morphing into a deadly, pewter blade that reflected the moon like a mirror.

Grim made his way to Neco, cutting down every rotting creature standing between him and his brother. One after the other, at the faintest slash of Grim's blade, the soldiers burst into dust. Grief and rage consumed Grim, swirling around him in dark, mist-like tendrils.

Neco turned, still expecting his brother to be restrained, and the blade of Grim's scythe cut straight down his face—a bone-deep gash through his left eye. Neco howled and stumbled backward, tripping into the pews. Grim advanced to the group of undead still crouched around his would-be bride's disemboweled body.

Before he could bury his scythe into the first creature's brain, Grim was shoved from behind by Neco, who'd barreled into him. He spun and faced his brother. Neco, blood gushing from his face, smashed his older brother over the head with a long floorboard.

Grim stumbled back, vision turning black. Dark tendrils of power zapped about him like lightning. The scythe burned his palm. He could feel Neco's power, as if he was standing too close to a fire. Grim roared and raised his scythe—ready to cut his brother down. Neco did the same with the plank of wood.

Everything slowed once more as their weapons clashed, and all went silent. It was as if the world had sucked in a huge breath—and then a roaring explosion knocked both brothers off their feet.

Grim landed flat on his back, winded, looking up at the black curtain of the night sky—not the barn. He sat up, confused. The earth in front of him dipped, revealing a deep, smoldering crater. The trees that had once surrounded the barn were now mere piles of ash. The barn—what remained of it—consisted of only a few chunks of charcoaled wood and the sizzling, melted, metal arch under which he was to be wed.

For a long time, Grim stood there, watching the smoke dance in the air. Then he sat down and cried. Eventually, eyes swollen and red, he looked at his hands. They were scorched and blistering.

The scythe.

He stood and turned to see his scythe half-buried in the ground, its blade reflecting the moon's light. The long blade was jagged in parts, serrated with beautiful patterns. A large pointed hook curved out its back.

He approached the weapon, pulled it from the ground, and held it in his hands. He knew then what power he had. And he would do whatever it took to avenge his family and his love.

He would destroy his brother.