This was probably his last day.
Just standing here, in the middle of the field, alone with this creature, he felt an immense horror filling every cell of his being.
What was immortality really?
Since childhood, he had been told that it was a heavenly gait and white clothes. That good celestials live in the heavens, whose touch heals and whose eyes look condescendingly. Their palaces are huge and bright, they breathe the light of the sun and warmth.
But no one told him that they breathe death.
No one warned him that "celestial" and "immortal" are different things. He had been told so much about light, forgetting that light is cold and merciless. That white is snow and mourning, boundless ice and death.
That what is "beyond death" is no longer death.
Mortals look different. They are alive and warm, they have blood and water, their gazes are alive, and their souls are deep.
But This creature was not like that. There was nothing human about it.
They say that the eyes are the mirror of the soul.
But if you were not alive… why do you need a soul?
You are not an empty vessel, but I cannot touch You. You do not exist. And my human eye does not see it.
An immortal is more than just life. They have neither life nor death, and in fact…
I think that in this world They simply "do not exist."