You tread slowly, carefully through the seemingly abandoned graveyard, taking in the stillness and peace of the night. However, there is one sound that stands out - a faint whistling, its soothing melody wafting through the air.

Fear grips your heart. A figure appears in front of you.

"Death comes for us all, in its own time."

The figure of Death is silent for a moment, taking in your fear and trepidation with that dark, brooding stare.

"But don't worry. Your time has not yet come."