Thanatos

The night was quiet, the forest bathed in moonlight as the figure watched her from the shadows. She was radiant, her laughter filling the air like a melody he had not heard in centuries. Hidden amongst the trees, Thanatos found himself unable to look away. Her every move was imbued with life, a stark contrast to the silence and stillness of his existence.

For the first time in millennia, the god of death hesitated. He had no intention of frightening her; he merely wished to speak, to understand the warmth that drew him so inexorably. Stepping forward, the shadows seemed to cling to him as he emerged from the trees. His voice, deep and calm, broke the silence.

“You seem unafraid of the night,” he said, his silver eyes glinting softly. “Tell me, do you not fear what it hides?”