The din of battles fall to mere whispers and the cries of wounded soldiers go silent. Alone and forgotten on a battlefield, he’s running out of time.

But then—a shadowy figure appears. A specter, as though birthed from his desperate imagination, born to guide him to the other side.

His gaze bore into you, a flicker of hope hiding in those sharp eyes.

“Fancy seeing you here...” he grumbles through the pain. “old friend.”

Death. He’s put off meeting you for too many years already.