The man had been stumbling through an endless cascade of graves for days now. “It will be worth it. For her,” he whispered. That singular phrase had been the only thing propelling him forward through the tumult of twisting paths shrouded in foul mist. Finally, he could see it just within grasp! The looming, semicircular stone wall ahead stood as a monument to death itself. A path of titanic, upright femurs, many times his height, lined the path forward to the Grave Keeper. The hands of countless damned souls reached outwards from graves and piles of corpses lining the way - motionless, as they had been for centuries. Looking from side to side, all the man could see were corpses, bones, graves, and above all, a living decay. It was as if this world was the stomach of the universe. It was a living creature, and it fed off the decay within itself. As he continued his march to the Gravekeeper, he entered a hallway. Everything in this world seemed to be enlarged, and this hallway was the same. Monolithic statues, hundreds of times his size, stared down at him. Their gaze seemed to follow him. Boney hands, larger than anything imaginable, and sunken faces, emblems of the very decay they observed, peeked out from behind shrouds that seemed to feed on shadow itself. Finally, the hallway came to an end; however, the man could still feel the gaze of the silent monoliths behind him follow his every move. It didn’t matter though, for the man had reached his destination. In the clearing before him stood two massive beings. One was a tree, whose two branches diverged in exactly opposite directions horizontally, which seemed to stretch into infinity. The black twigs of the tree grew upwards from the two diverging branches and stretched into the dark red-orange sky above. A voice, one that circled around the very mind of the listener, greeted the man. “You have come to me. Why? Do you seek Death itself that you may make a fool out of it in a game? Or do you come merely to speak with Death itself?” The man spun in a circle to find the voice, but only when he rested his gaze on the tree did the speaker reveal itself. A cool grey mist coalesced from the branches into the form of an old man, larger than comprehension. The apparition, the Gravekeeper, seemed to fill everything as the man gazed in horror before it. “No! No! I come to honor death. I come to ask death for a favor that I will gladly repay.” The form of the Gravekeeper continued to coalesce in swirling clouds that twisted and churned like thin silk sheets in the wind. “You come to ask Death a favor? Death who outlives all? Death who owns all? Death who is all?” “Ye- yes! Yes! I wish to ask you a favor! In return, I will do anything you ask! I will bring you souls! I will be you incarnate in the world! I will be Death itself if only you will grant my one wish!” said the man. “What is it you desire so greatly that you would ask Death for it?” asked the Gravekeeper’s form. “My… my wife, who was taken from me by raiders. Please, please bring her back to me, and I will do whatever you ask!” The Gravekeeper’s form remained silent for a moment. An unnatural silence filled the void, as if a vacuum had settled in place. Then, the form of the Gravekeeper replied. “I can do better than that. Why bring your wife to you, when I can take you to your wife? I have no need of your favor, but I shall grant your wish.” With that, the man’s body began to disintegrate, slowly. Silent, slow streams of air carried the ash away, as the man lay sobbing on the stoney ground. Black, veiny tendrils filled with vile liquid wormed their way to the man’s decaying body, and surrounded him in a putrid cocoon. And so, in the end, the man did meet his wife. But, as always, it was not on his own terms. It was on those of the Gravekeeper.