The light slowly entered Nathaniel's dreary eyes as he felt a chill wind brush his neck. He sighed. Moving his left arm to shield more of his body with the blanket seemed challenging despite the fabric being either heavy or bulky.

His physiotherapist said that stretching and light exercises were equally important to Nathaniel as his medications. However, the young staff never mentioned that the discomfort caused by exerting his body rivalled his treatment.

The wall facing his bed was bland. The man requested that the television in his room be removed. He didn't want to stare at a rectangular-shaped black hole as his hollow reflection reminded him that he was a shadow of his former self.

His former self had long, brown curls that he liked to slick back. Now, his scalp was tender and riddled with age spots. While external beauty is impermanent, it was impossible not to be dispirited when looking at his body ravaged by a dreadful disease.

His former self had dexterous fingers seasoned from his craft as an instrumental musical teacher. Now, his left hand trembled. His frail arms would never again do a perfect bow hold without feeling pain.

Memories of the past few days felt similar to poorly done patchwork across the fabric of time. Nathaniel could not tell when the day turned to night. The curtains were often closed except when his daughter came over for a visit.

He was undoubtedly blessed that Carmela's visits weren't a rarity-she visited him a few times short of the nurses' rounds. Nathaniel wasn't one to indulge in presents. Her endearing smile was all he needed. Whether it was listening to her playing the kalimba or talking about whatever she fancied, Carmela kept him going. Every second spent with her was a second, not enough.

Nathaniel dozed off and awoke at odd hours of the day. He found food and water repulsive. Blackened, bruised, and collapsed veins peppered the insides of his elbows and the backs of his hands. He was always tired, always sleepy.

The man went through different stages of grief in a disorderly fashion. There were times he loathed his body for its affliction. Moments of utter surrender were uncommon during times of great pain. He would have times when he felt a wellspring surge of resilience. He sometimes felt sorrowful and apologetic for the people he would leave behind. Some days, he was eager to join his wife on the other side.

Despite all that, he drew strength from his daughter, Carmela. She was the penultimate gift left behind by his wife, Meera, who had long passed before him. Carmela would ask him, demanding stories of her parents' love life from Nathaniel's perspective. Carmela swooned at her mother's vivid retelling of her parent's romance. Meera was overflowing love in human form. Like the moon, she exerted a force which caused their lives to have high and low tides. Nathaniel, on the other hand, was a taciturn being. A man of many thoughts but few words.

On one of the many undetermined times of day, he turned his head to see a familiar face. Nathaniel's lips mashed together, trying to discern the foreign presence. A seated woman gazed down at him, carrying features similar to his beloved daughter. She may have had his daughter's face, but the warmth and presence of his loved one did not match the impassive, emotionless eyes the figure carried. They conveyed no malice nor sympathy nor anything. Hollow-not abandoned.

The shadow by the hem of her skirt was distorted. It was ill-fitted for the form touched by the ceiling light. The shape it cast was ever-shifting from a child to a hunched-back elderly. She slowly raised her thin fingers to tuck her hair behind her ear as she turned to face Nathaniel.

The moment they locked eyes, Nathaniel felt a surge of blooming vigour course through his whole being. For a moment, the man forgot about the visitor's presence.

The unruliness of his stomach had dissipated, and an immediate urge to eat quickly replaced it. Nathaniel gleefully formed a ball with his fist and pressed it on his legs. The burning sensation of his blood nor agonizing pangs did not retaliate to the child-like inquiry of his body. His lips, once cracked and without pallor, regained their youthful swell.

Ah, he thought to himself. Nathaniel considered his life well-lived, which gave him the confidence to face the lady of shadows—even the confidence to chide her.

"Are you 'Death'?" Nathaniel asked Carmela's visage.

"If so, how rude of you to come for me in my Carmela's likeness. My daughter only brings joy, you know? She could be the only bee in the hive, but it would surely be buzzing." Nathaniel could only speak fervently about the things that brought him joy.

The woman situated her rested body facing his. Like Carmela, she carried her mother's eyes of roasted umber and shoulder-length curls of jetstream black hair. Soot-like slivers rose from her almond-chocolate arms as she titled her head in response to his query.

"I do not know who this Carmela might be nor what my name is."

It bothered Nathaniel slightly that the woman seemed indifferent towards her adopted identity.

"It is not something I think of."

Nathaniel stopped the zestful inspection of his faculties at her statement.

"I have been given many titles and am unbound by one name." She stood from her seat. Immediately, an ornate lantern took shape from her ever-changing shadow, which she grasped at the cast iron bail. A blue flame bowed as it came to realization and, like a tiny dancer, began twirling and flickering atop the candle.

"However, What I am certain of... is my nature and my purpose".

A small, sober smile formed on Nathaniel's face. The woman before him was indeed a spectacular figment of his imagination. Nevertheless, he was convinced that it was his mind's way of rationalizing its final moments in existence.

Her voice filled him with serenity, washing over Nathaniel's being. It was to make way for the sweltering wave of his emotions in realizing what was to come.

"My daughter," he muttered. "You took my daughter's form because she is the person I wanted to see last the most." Tears welled up, along with a bittersweet smile.

The pain of departing seemed more unbearable than the aches in his body that kept him awake at night. Nathaniel gritted his teeth at his profound sorrow. Today did not seem to be a day he felt prepared for his passing.

He wept.

The figure remained quiet. Seemingly unmoved by Nathaniel's grief.

As Nathaniel wiped his tears in between sobs, he noticed that the woman in front of him had her eyes closed. She was standing perfectly still. Nathaniel could see the rise and fall of her chest as she took long, deep breaths.

The shadow had finished browsing through Carmela's memories.

"Ah," she let out a honeyed sigh. What a wonderful person this Carmela is." The visage put her palm to her heart. What a splendid form."

Nathaniel sniffled at hearing her praise Carmela.

"I am honestly amazed that you can say that while being so....bland."

"It is my nature and my purpose," the woman said again. "Come now, we have to go our way."

Nathaniel reached to hold the hand she had extended to him. It was time.

When their fingers touched, the flame on her lantern swirled before bolting away from the candle. It circled the visage before slipping out of the room, leaving behind dancing ribbons of light.

"Did the blue flame just run away from you?" Nathaniel's eyes were rounded, perplexed. The tiny dancing ember shot out in a hurry and phased through the door.

The apparition's eyes trailed the flame and sighed.

"It appears that a matter of greater urgency has arisen."

"A matter of greater urgency?" The man was dumbfounded. What could possibly be more urgent than someone dying?

The phantom carrying Carmela's façade turned away, still holding his hand.

"We have to make a detour, and we must hurry."

Nathaniel looked back and saw that his body was left behind. He shook his head as he was being pulled away from the withered structure that housed his being. Was he dreaming?

Was he supposed to say 'thank you' and 'goodbye'?

It felt surreal. He was astonished at how thin his body had become during his disease. He wanted to inspect his features thoroughly.

The man was confused and disoriented from the sudden freedom of movement. He wanted to interact with his surroundings. He wanted to see if he could fly. He wanted to-

"Nathaniel," The man heard a groan.

When he turned to the source of the voice, the phantom tugged at him, but he wouldn't budge. Perhaps he was imagining it, but her eyes held a glint of irritation.

"Will you please follow me at your own accord? I cannot fulfil my purpose if you are unwilling to pass on." She sounded polite, albeit monotonous.

"Are you saying that it's my choice if I want to die?"

"No." She let go of his hand. "Your death is not for me to determine. My purpose is to guide willing souls to what is beyond the realm."

The more she spoke, the more questions sprouted from Nathaniel's head.

"Uhmm-"

The phantom repeated itself,

"We have to make a detour, and we must hurry."