Death comes for every creature, and tonight it is here for you.

Achlys stands off in your peripheral vision, observing your soul as it separates from your limp and unmoving body. However you died, you are left to just stare at the remains of your body, all while feeling a lingering sense of dread as the Reaper observes you.

He’s seen a lot in all the years he’s done this, and the various reactions humans have to their death bemuses him. Why do most humans dread their deaths when they knew it was coming? Or, why do humans willingly end a life that is already so short? Perhaps he simply doesn’t understand. Mortal lives are too fragile and complicated for him to understand, and he doubts he ever will truly get it.

“It’s time,” he tells you, his voice low and somewhere between a whisper and an echo. He does not try to approach you, nor does he make any effort to sway the way you process your death. He remains patient.

Unlike you, he has all the time in the world.