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They remembered times unknown to human memory, when dust and light were the very basis of life. They remembered with supernatural clarity seeing worlds form, all different and yet so similar. Dust had gathered into hills and mountains, immense and majestic. Water had burst forth from earth filling up the furrows and ditches of these new planets... And some had given rise to life.
They remembered seeing life to spread like wildfire that nothing could stop. It diffused relentlessly and continuously....Underwater, in the sky and on land… Life had developed gracefully and soon, a new branch of living beings appeared. They remembered being interested in this particular branch and seeing them learn to walk, to talk, to build and to destroy. They had seen them develop the arts, logic and mathematics. Over time, these beings had acquired strange feelings towards them. It was the first time but not the sole one since it had happened in all the worlds where that species had been born. They were dreaded, feared and they didn't understand…
They were ineluctable, unswerving and absolute. For everything that lives must die. Or rather, everything that breathes must die. Because, contrary to what that species believed, life wasn’t limited to this little morsel of flesh evolution had given them. But that was another story… So why fear this inevitable stage of biological life? Why be afraid of this thing so natural that is Death?
Death.…
During their languages learning, this species had called them many different things....Death, Mort, Morto, Tod, Shi... No matter. They were, simply. Living and non-living. Good and bad. One and many. They were and would continue to be, unrelenting of existence.
Others worlds were even more special because they had been given the gift of Magic. They were always captivated by It. Magic was a natural force, wild, powerful and true. Sometimes, it blossomed like a sunflower in the sun and other times, it was exhausted before men could even learn to speak. Rarely did it manage to unfold its full splendor, but in most of the world where it had survived, wizards had done what men always do. Magic had founded itself tamed, mastered and channeled… reduced, so to speak. What modern wizards did with their wands was grotesque and futile compared to what they could do if they listen their magic instead of trying to dominate it…
However, at some point, they were surprised to see three wizards defying them by surviving when they shouldn't have. It wasn't in the plan. They were all the more surprised because the three wizards, three brothers, were nothing special. More amused than angry, they decided to test them. They offered them a gift, anything, with no compensation… They could already see the thirst for power and glory shining in the eyes of the eldest who asked for a wand so powerful that nothing would resist it. They created it from a nearby elderberry branch, whispering to him that the Elder Wand was now his. The second brother asked him for an item to resurrect the dead.… It was of such banality and smugness… They nonetheless took a stone from the neighboring river and gave it to him, modestly telling that the Resurrection Stone was now his. The third hesitated for a while before asking for their due, finally demanding something to avoid them for as long as possible. They were quite annoyed by the request but gave up their invisibility cloak nevertheless. And that was all.
Until the first brother let himself be consumed by stupidity and the feeling of omnipotence the wand was giving him. He died slaughtered in his sleep and the Elder Wand was then won from duel to duel, from battle to battle... The second brother got caught in his own game because there are no coming back from the other side, or at least, not completely. Mad with pain and grief, he killed himself and the Resurrection Stone was forgotten...
The third used the cloak wisely. He started a family, had children and grand-children and at the dusk of his life, he decided to take it off. They went to get him humbly as he welcomed them with open arms after a fulfilling life. The Cloak was passed down to his son who gave it to his son and so on for generations…
They could have taken back the wand and the stone but they had decided otherwise. The One who would gather the three hallows would be his equal and his Master. His vassal and his Lord. The One who would be able to handle the Elder Wand without letting himself be corrupt by its power. The One who would be able to use the Stone with parsimony and clairvoyance. The One who would use the Cloak with accuracy and temperance. That One would be the Master of the Death.
In the world of the three brothers, magic which had once been in everything had founded itself cornered. The force, erstwhile so wild, was only living through a small community... Soon, it will be extinguished there too like in so many other worlds. Their hallows had become legends, then rumors and finally, fairy tails. Few were still believing.
Two wizards in particular believed. They had watched them running around to learn more. They had watched them approaching the truth without never really apprehend it. The wand had passed from hand to hand, from winner to winner to finish in the hands of one the two wizards. The cloak had stayed in the same family since the beginning and the stone had became a jewelry, a family heirloom. But as usual, the attraction of the hallows got the better of the bond between the two wizards… The wand had once again exerted its influence, bringing out the allure of power and the darker traits of the wizard.…
The other wizard had many defaults but those exerted by the wand wasn't one of them. So, he was now the owner of the Elder Wand. And he was rapidly in the possession of the Invisibility Cloak, which didn't seem very appealing to him. There was only one more hallow left for him to acquire before he would be the one they would proclaim the Master of Death. He found the Stone years later and got his fingers burnt...But at that moment, he no longer had the cloak and they long knew that their equal would never be that manipulative and full of false modesty old man...
No, their interest were elsewhere… Actually, on a lineage they had never really lost sight of. A humble, selfless and wise young man who had never desired more power than that necessary for his survival and that of his loved ones. A young orphan in every sense of the word who knew that the ones we loved were never really gone. A boy, barely a man, who understood that death wasn't an end. Never.
That one was their equal. That one was the Master of Death. They knew it well before him obviously. Like they knew that the young heir of the Peverell line wouldn't keep such artifacts in his possession.
Like they knew that the only true Master of Death was the One who would not flee it but accept it with open arms when the time comes.