Death of Euphoria

She rested in the green.
Blades between her fingers;
Tickling her skin;
Whispering in the breeze.
Warm euphoria beat upon her face
In the form of golden rays.
No wind to ruin the moment;
To send chills up her spine or raise goosebumps.
She didn't dream of heaven, for this...this was heaven.
She merely relished being,
Because in being, she could do no wrong.
Her still body could bring no harm,
Her slow breaths could flare no anger.
Peace had finally found her.
But as in real life, there are no happy endings,
And all good things must meet their end.
And she was, after all, still on a mission.
One she beheld with neither hate nor compassion;
She simply accepted it.
She had been trained well;
Besides, who better to collect souls than Lucifer's own daughter?
But as she stood, she was clothed in white.