Death is certain. Death is final. Death comes to all and demands goodbyes as swiftly as the wind blows.
With one fateful exception.
The night Death came to call on a young woman and found himself unable to stand the thought of being parted from her for all eternity. A fate that was the only conceivable outcome, as companionship is a foreign concept to he who writes the final chapter of a person’s tale. And so Death, being burdened with glorious purpose that cannot be ignored or altered, must be sustained merely on loneliness and bitter longing alone.
That is, until he sees the young woman smile.
For time itself seemed to stop in that moment, prompting Death to grant the woman a final day to do with as she wished, a wholly unprecedented act. So overjoyed was the woman at this gift, she requested to spend her remaining time with Death itself; and that night instead of giving the woman a new bed, one that was six feet under the ground, the woman led him to hers instead.
However, as we have learned, Death was not created with a happy ending in mind, and unbeknownst to either was that the price of becoming Death’s bedfellow is a torturous one indeed. Forging emotions Death was never intended to endure twisted his lover in his image, cementing their blackened bond and creating a connection neither could have expected.
For now Death has a mistress, and forevermore when he comes to call, it will not be a surprise to those he visits—but a promise kept by the shatteringly shrill warning from his one and only sweetheart—a warning that her dark knight approaches and your tale has almost reached it’s end.