Bowing curtly, the great wolf left the dragons to their celebration. Skool followed the crystal spring whose green-blue waters flowed through the deep valley. His keen maize eyes watched the minions of Death go about their business. They kept busy harvesting the souls of the newly departed. Each servant hung shimmering globes on an eternally expanding row of vines and bushes. Skool studied every sphere and the soul it contained. The wolf knew well the shimmering hues of Death and its goddess named Nox.
“Few come of their own accord to my glen,” Death said, as the humming of insects sounded. “What is it you wish of me, great wolf?”
“The ending of all things is not settled. The horsemen have been bested and the seven-headed dragon slain. Semjaza will soon face Abaddon. What role will you play on Sealius?”
Death threw back her long dark hair and laughed an icy laugh. Her jade eyes met the yellows of the wolf, her lips drawn into a sharp frown. Skool regarded the beauty of Death, of the goddess, Nox, until the chill that gripped his soul made him yowl.
“Is it my role you wish to learn or the fate of the players? Do you fear your own demise, great wolf?”
Skool craned his neck and stared at the river of life, flowing peacefully through Death’s glen. The wolf roared and the minions of Death spun briefly before returning to their appointed tasks.
“I do not seek what is forbidden to know but only that you accompany me to earth.”
Death turned away, her eyes lowered. Her lips became taut while she walked over to the river. Reaching inside a shimmering globe; Death extracted a soul. She weighed it heavily in her palm before turning back to face Skool. Then kneeling by the river, she returned it to the waters of life.
“How precarious is mortal life? One dies and one is given back their essence. Both I and Moribus will journey with you.”