The chill of death hung heavy in the air. Niem’s job had come again. He was running on a schedule. There was many more souls to reap, but this mortal had caught his eye.

Younger than the rest, this one was dying from a disease. Niem raised his scythe, but couldn’t bring himself to end this human’s life.

He gritted his teeth as the mortal slowly looked at him. No one had ever looked at him before. Niem dropped his scythe and stared at the sickly human.

“You can see me, young one?” He said, his deep voice rumbling through the thick air.