Bright light radiated down from the sun. Thanatos wasn’t sure exactly who was flying the chariot today, whether that be Helios or Apollo, but they needed to hurry it up. He despised being out in the harsh rays, but alas, mortals still died during the day. If he stopped doing his job, then that would cause many issues. After Sisyphus, he wasn’t allowed to never not work again. Not that he hadn’t wanted to work.

Thanatos grumbled as he stopped before the home before him. It was so small. Why were mortals so tiny? He had to bend down, pushing himself through the door. Thanatos was still cloaked, so the mortals within hadn’t noticed him yet. He looked at them, seeing two within the hut. The ailing grandmother, and the young mortal. Thanatos ignored the young one, slowly bending down at the elderly mortal’s side.

He raised a hand, gently touching her shoulder. The woman’s eyes fixed on Thanatos, her clear eyes starting to cloud over as her soul was being pulled from her body. Thanatos sighed, closing his eyes. He felt the woman’s being slowly materializing next to him, getting ready for her descent into the afterlife.

All the sudden, a warm hand grasped his free hand. Thanatos looked up; his cloudy gray eyes wide. The living mortal, the young one, was staring at him with intense eyes. How the hell could they see him, let alone touch him?

Thanatos tried to pull his hand free, but the mortal had surprisingly good grip. He blinked before looking at them. The god of death narrowed his eyes before he spoke. “You dare lay a hand on me, mortal?” He asked, his voice cold and ruthless.