He's dead. He's very dead. I walk into the room. I might be a little late, but his soul should be easy enough to grab. Everyone looks at me. I straighten my sleeves. I straighten my black cloak. I straighten my hood. This is the first meeting where they actually see me. I've met them all before at every crossroad. The Raven lands on my shoulder. I walk forward.

"Who the Hell are you?" Garus Zeb Orallos asked.

He pointed his gun at me. 

"That's a complicated answer." I ask moving past him.

I look at Kanan Jarrus. 

"We meet again old friend."I say to him.

He turns. Ah... he's holding his apprentice. His padawan. His friend. I am sorry I have to collect his soul. 

"You... I remember you when my master was killed. You're..." Kanan Jarrus starts.

"Death. Yes." I nod. 

I pull out my scythe. They draw back.

"You're here for..." Hera Syndulla.

"Ezra? Yes." I say.

I push her back. Kanan Jarrus holds the boy tighter.

"You're not taking him from me." He says.

"I'm sorry, but I really am tired." I roll my eyes.

I throw them all back with my hand. I know the force as well. I am as old as it, but I'm still looking very well for my age I think. I walk over to the boy. I lift him up. 

"Shh. Don't worry Ezra Bridger. I will bring you to a better world. Or perhaps you shall be dragged into Hell." I mutter.

"What?" Kanan growls.

"Nothing." I look up at him.

I take my scythe and I cut into his chest. I cut deep.

"What are you doing?!" Hera Syndulla asks.

"Collecting his soul my dear." I say. 

When the cut was deep enough and long enough. I reach my hand in. Huh. He's surprisingly skinny for his age. He should really eat more. Or should've. Wait... I pull my hand out in surprise. What is this...? 

"He... he's empty. I say.