The wind sighed through the cracks in the ancient stones of the tower, carrying the chill of a world that had long since moved on. Perched high in the forgotten peaks, the tower was an island of isolation, its lone occupant shrouded in centuries of self-imposed exile.

  Dorian Kael sat by the fire, its flickering light casting long shadows across the room. Around him were the remnants of a life stretched too thin—scrolls and books from empires that had crumbled to dust, trinkets from eras no one remembered. He stared at the empty page before him, the quill in his hand motionless. After 11,765 years, what else was there to say?

  The fire wavered, its light dimming as an unfamiliar warmth filled the room. Dorian looked up, his hand instinctively moving to the hilt of the dagger at his belt—a pointless reflex. He knew who it was before the figure even appeared.

  “You’ve redecorated,” said a voice, smooth and calm, with just a hint of humor.

  The figure stepped out of the shadows, not cloaked in ominous black but draped in a simple robe that shifted like sunlight through leaves. Death smiled—a friendly, almost casual expression that somehow made him even more unsettling.

  “Death,” Dorian said, his voice flat. “It’s been a while.”

  “Just a few millennia,” Death replied, inspecting the room with an appraising glance. “You’ve certainly mastered the art of solitude. I’m impressed. Though I have to say, I didn’t expect you to last this long without losing your mind.”

  Dorian leaned back in his chair, his gray eyes narrowing. “What do you want?”

  Death sighed, the sound more weary than ominous, and pulled up a chair that hadn’t been there a moment before. He sat down, folding his hands neatly in his lap. “Straight to the point, as always. I appreciate that about you, Dorian. No, ‘How’s the afterlife?’ or ‘Still enjoying your work?’ Just business.”

  The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

  “You’re not here for small talk,” Dorian said, his tone sharp. “So, again, what do you want?”

  Death’s smile faded slightly, replaced by an expression that almost resembled sympathy. “I want you to stop hiding.”

  Dorian’s jaw tightened, but he said nothing.

  Death continued, his voice gentler now. “Do you remember what you said to me, all those years ago? The night you begged me for immortality?”

  “I remember,” Dorian said bitterly. “I told you I wanted to live forever. To escape death. To be invincible.”

  “And I gave you what you wanted,” Death said, nodding. “Your greatest wish, turned into your greatest curse. And here you are, still clinging to it after 11,765 years.”

  Dorian’s hands curled into fists. “I didn’t know what I was asking for.”

  “No one ever does,” Death said with a small shrug. “But the point is, you’ve had time. More time than anyone else in existence. You’ve seen the rise and fall of civilizations, the birth of new worlds, the endless cycle of life and death. And yet, you’ve spent the last few centuries locked away in this tower, watching the world from a distance.”

  “Why should I care about the world?” Dorian snapped. “It’s better off without me.”

  Death tilted his head, his expression thoughtful. “Is it? Because from what I’ve seen, the world could use someone like you right now. It’s changing again, Dorian. Old powers are stirring, and new ones are trying to take their place. The balance is shifting, and not in a good way.”

  “That’s not my problem,” Dorian muttered, though his voice lacked conviction.

  Death leaned forward, his tone soft but insistent. “It is your problem. Whether you like it or not, you’ve shaped this world in ways no one else ever could. Your choices—your crimes—they’ve left marks that haven’t faded, even after all this time. You wanted immortality, and now you have it. But it wasn’t just a curse, Dorian. It was a chance. A chance to do something that matters.”

  Dorian met Death’s gaze, his gray eyes flickering with something between anger and doubt. “Why do you care? You’re Death. What does it matter to you what happens to the world?”

  Death smiled again, this time with genuine warmth. “Because I’ve always liked you, Dorian. For all your flaws—and there are many—you’ve got potential. And because, believe it or not, I don’t enjoy seeing people suffer. I want you to stop running from what you are and start being what you could be.”

  Silence filled the room, broken only by the crackle of the fire.

  Finally, Dorian sighed and leaned back in his chair. “If I do this... if I step back into the world... what then?”

  Death stood, his form seeming to shimmer like heatwaves. “Then you’ll find out, won’t you? Life’s a lot more interesting when you’re part of it.”

  And with that, he was gone, leaving the room warmer and quieter than before.

  Dorian stared into the fire, his mind a whirlwind of thoughts. Outside the window, the mist parted briefly, revealing the vast, ever-changing world below.

  For the first time in centuries, Dorian felt the stirrings of something he thought he’d lost long ago: purpose.