I decide to plant my feet, force my blood to pump and pound, my muscles to constrict and contract. There is an ache in my knees and weight in my head, throbbing pains. My physical body has not been used in some time, and it howls for me to continue to drift amongst the shadows.
I slowly circled him with my Bident in hand, smiling down at him. His eyes caught mine, and for a split moment, I could see fear. He knew that I knew something he didn’t want me to know. My face must have given me away.
I do not cover my face. My tears are for them. I grieve for them. I mourn for them. The remorse I feel is like a weight that would pull a mortal soul to the very depths of Tartarus. I sob my apology.
“Hello, dear one, my name is Thanatos, the God of Death. I am here to help and there is no reason to be afraid,” I say.
