There are some who simply live in the shadow of death. Not by act or choice, but by the simple choice of fate, that they should be kept company by the one who bridges the way between the living and the dead.
Death and fate themselves working in tandem, neither caring for what is within a moment, what life might come or go.
For to them all things go on as all things should have and will. There is nothing which should be held so sacred so as never to be touched by either hand.
And in the world where all things bloom and fade in a time not of their own choosing, so is the world at the mercy of that which acts without a thought or care for mercy, but compassionate disinterest.
The toil of mortal lives goes on so long as life may hold. for the world knows not that which binds it tight until it comes to act as it does.