It happened once that while passing through a hamlet along the border twixt Everon and Styxia, I caught wind that an old friend of my youth was staying in town. The sprightly, carefree young man that I had known was much changed however, as he had contracted a wasting fever and was lodging not in the inn, but in the ward of the local apothecary. Living the rootless life of the wanderer, there were few in the world, let alone in that wayside village, who would have wished to be at his side at that time, and it was pure chance that I happened to be passing through at his time of need. The room of his stay was surprisingly large, given its purpose, with only a single window ushering in the daylight rays. This spaciousness was enhanced by the sparse furnishings, as besides his bed, the area was shared only with a single rickety chair and simple bedside table. I pulled the chair to the side of the bed, and immediately we began swapping tales of our travels since we had last met, and reminiscing on shared memories of the jumble of cottages which we had jointly called home. After many hours of such talk, I noticed the height of the moon in the heavens, and the shadows stretching long across the cedar planks of the room's floor. Promising that I would return come the morrow, I departed through the creaking oaken door.

When I walked into his dreary room the next day, he was wearing a strange wondering look, as if he had witnessed something beyond the comprehension of his fever riddled mind. At first I thought that the food they normally served him must have been quite awful, and he was paralysed with delight at the hard bread and goats cheese that I had purchased for him that morning, however it quickly became apparent that his shock was towards something else entirely. Croaking in a voice wracked with fever, he told me the most incredible tale, the exact words of which I can still remember to this day.

"She came for me last night, while I was asleep. It was the soundest I had slept in weeks, and when I awoke to see her standing there silhouetted against the midnight shine, there was not an ounce of fatigue in my bones. It struck me immediately that this was Death, come to collect me, though how I knew this it is difficult to recall. I suppose every creature knows in their heart of hearts when their time has come. She was clothed in a modest dress of darkest silk, complete with a wide brimmed hat of matching midnight black. What little flesh I could see was porcelain white, as pale as a corpse's, yet showing no sign of decay. Her face held a slight smile, fixed stiff on skin tightened around skull like features, yet most shocking of all were the onyx orbs lying in her pale lidded eye sockets. It was then that she told me what purpose had brought her to my chamber, in a voice that left no traces on her lips and seemed to bypass my ears completely. A mortal terror filled me like none I had ever known, yet something urged me on through the pale moonlight to stand by her side. Somehow, despite the fear possessing me, I did not fail to notice the picturesque scene surrounding me. My romantic heart could not help but take in the noble fullness of the bone white moon silhouetted by the cedar frame, shedding its pure light on myself and the pale woman standing beside me. It was then that a pang of regret struck my heart, and my terror was replaced by a certain morose sadness kin only to the deepest losses of man. Having no others to confide in, I turned to the skeletal woman and told her of my life as a dancer, and the joy with which I had leapt through the world. It had always been my fanciful dream that I might die on the dance floor, yet due to my unfortunate illness, that fantasy had been cruelly stripped away from me. I can not tell whether she sympathised with my remorse, for her corpse face seemed incapable of accommodating any expression outside of that one small smile, yet she seemed to understand what I was saying, as she raised her arms to meet my embrace, and together we launched into a sombre tango."

"As we danced, I told her tales of my life, all the places I'd travelled to, from the most majestic mountain to the humblest of hamlets. I told her of the people whom I had trusted, and of the hearts I had broken. In return, she spoke to me of the countless souls she had reaped, and the means through which they had tried to buy her favour. She told me of the lowest peasants and their humility before her, and of the kings who broke into hysteria when struck with the realisation that no earthly power could save them from their fate. She told me even of the doomed lovers, whose happy smiles were reserved only for her. She did not just tell me of the myriad souls she had loosed, but also of the infinite darkness of the realms beyond time, and of the strange and monstrous beauty of those hadean lands. She proved an excellent partner, and for many hours we danced there with only the beat of my heart to keep time, until at last I collapsed into the chair you are now sitting in, my limbs trembling with exhaustion."

"At that moment, I truly was ready to go, and I would have departed with joy in my heart if she had not chosen that moment to return to her stygian realm. I must have been the first to bargain with her in such a way, for I can not think of another reason why she did not take me that night." All this I took in with an open ear, despite my scepticism towards the tales of a fever ridden man. His voice held a note of earnestness however that could come only from the most truthful of men or the foulest of deceivers, and I knew my friend to be no liar. Nevertheless, neither was he a mystic, and such a vivid encounter with the powers that be is unheard of coming from such a common man, so my suspicion stuck with me throughout the conversation. Partly due to this, I steered the talk towards more familiar ground, and before long we were deep into the reminiscing of the previous day. The hours passed quickly once again, and before we knew it the moon was casting her dreary light into the chamber. Noticing this, I rose to bid farewell to my friend, but before I could leave he begged me to stay just a moment longer. He told me he was sure that she would be back tonight, and that this would be the last time we would be seeing each other in this world. I was still sceptical of his tale, yet the compassion in my heart won out, and I returned to his bedside. I said my final remarks, and hugged his frail body, before finally taking my leave.

The next day I once again visited my friend, but was greeted by the apothecary before I could make it to his room. He informed me with his deepest condolences that my friend's soul had departed peacefully during the night, and that the body was now lying in wait in the room that he had resided in. A pang of sorrow lanced my heart, and I clambered up the creaking steps to confirm the doctors word. There he lay, stretched upon the cheap feather bed, little changed from the previous night. Unique of the corpses that I had seen, he wore not a grimace of pain nor a shocked expression, but a smile resting lightly on his motionless face. Gazing on that serene death mask, I was struck with recollection of the tale he had told, and the suspicion I had felt the previous day dissolved into a cautious curiosity. Perhaps he truly had met the keeper of mortality, it would certainly do much to explain how he predicted his demise, and if the rest of his story was to be believed, the happiness of his features. Turning to the doctor, who had entered quietly behind me, I informed him that I would be happy to pay the costs of the funeral, and would be staying in town to be present for it. As I strolled across the creaking cedar planks, I glanced over the room that had been my friends end, and sure enough embedded in the thick dust across the floorboards were the impressions of a woman's boot, entwined with the bare footed prints of a thin, sickly man.