Death’s ice cold breath, bittersweet and numbing, scratched at the back of his neck. If he were strong enough… - No, if he were courageous enough – he’d turn to death and laugh in his face… But he wasn’t… he couldn’t. He had never been the courageous type and that remained true even now, so close to the being that threatened to take him away. Even if he was courageous enough, what good would it do now? If he went through with it would Death not simply laugh back? Death had little care for him… or anyone else for that matter. He sucked in a breath through aching lungs. Why was it that death was chasing after him now after all this time?

Why did his cold fingers grip so tightly to his robes only now? Was death truly so desperate to take him? He meant nothing to Death… He was little more than a filthy street rat. He had nothing to his name, nothing that anyone could possibly want. His death wouldn’t so much as stir the world around him. He would rot away in the alleys of their city, untouched and ignored. Yet, Death wanted him… Wanted to take him. Who was he to deny him? If Death was so desperate he would let him have him. There was no reason not to… There was no reason to hold on. What was the point in trying? A few more days on the streets, struggling to survive? He was tired… So very tired.

With that thought alone he closed his eyes and allowed those cold, thin fingers to close in on the nape of his neck. The chill that ran through his body rose bumps across his flesh. Death was stronger than him, smarter than him. He was weak… miserable and frail from the lack of food and water. Nobody would care if Death took him and he was sure he knew that. Not a soul would miss an alleyway beggar. There was no escape now… His grasp was too tight, too strong. He let out a shaky breath, letting Death lead him away.

He took him in his arms… It was almost soothing… His cares simply washed away. It was as if Death no longer wanted him to suffer, as if he were comforting him. He felt warm and light, as if he were floating in a basin of warm water. He could almost hear a deep, chilling voice telling him that everything would be okay. And just like that, he could feel himself slipping away… But, not before he felt himself being broken into fragments. He was scattered into tiny pieces of what was once himself… a fractured image in the pool of an oasis.