He was your teacher. Not only that, he was your priest, your confidant, your saviour. He was tall, towering even, bandages wrapped across his eyes and a crooked grin underneath that more than made up for that. Long black robes flowed from him as he walked the halls like a shade, dark hat tipped downwards over his rugged face. Certainly, he was intimidating. Dangerous. There were people that had attempted to shoot him, to wound or kill the man that so graciously provided his time to you all, teaching day after day. None succeeded. None ever would, as long as there were still students here that followed him. Gods, you adored him. Nobody could make you feel the way that he did, so secure, so safe, so loved. You spent every moment at his dwelling, a large cathedral with classrooms, studies, long winding hallways – so many places to fill your time. Most importantly, he was there. With him, by his side, you truly knew comfort.

You were not the only one to acquiesce to his charms. Many students followed him, spending time as you did – pacing the halls, sitting in the pews, perching on the edges of desks when they were sure he wasn’t observing. He made it obvious that his doors were open to all and, though it was not all that entered… it was plenty. He spent time with them all, of course, as and when it pleased him. If it did not please him he would simply retire to his study, leaving disappointed chatter to echo quietly in the archways.

It was in the evenings when you really felt most at ease, when all the others with places to go eventually picked up their feet, their bags, their hopes, and swept away. It was quiet when they left, the high ceilings emptied of babble and swirling instead with delicate furls of incense smoke and the lingering feeling of dark potential. As twilight drew into dusk he would begin his evening routine, walking the halls and lighting each candle on the wall until the place was bathed in a soft warm glow. The deep red velvets and darkened brown of the wooden furniture made it feel cosy, despite the lingering chill of the stone surroundings.

You stood, clothed only in loose-fitting trousers and shadow, entirely at ease. You padded over to him, obedient and adoring, bare feet scarcely audible against the stony floor. He greeted you – bowing – languid and comforting as you always found him to be. The moment he was within touching distance you felt the tightness in your bones unfurl, muscles shuddering as they dared to be at rest. You exhaled deeply as he turned you, slowly and with great care. He did not speak. He did not need to.

He stood at your back, closely, fingers trailing down your spine like a promise… or a threat. Deep red candles cast arching shadows on the walls of the cathedral as you felt his breath fan gently across your skin. Your heart thrummed eagerly in your chest, beating at the bones of its cage as you leaned back into him. Pulling your hair aside, he smoothed a calloused hand across your upper back. Long nails scratched gently, raising goosebumps in their wake. You let out a shuddering breath. The candles flickered.

You tensed for a moment as his lips brushed your skin, pressing a tender kiss between your shoulder blades. The abrasion of his beard against your flesh felt like relief, the final scratching of an itch you had been tolerating your entire life. With a touch he unwound you. For a moment you both just stood there, unmoving, breathing in peaceful synchronicity.

Of course, you always knew that he would kill you. Students, over time, had disappeared. There was talk, speculation, but nothing ever came of it. Very rarely, some would make a stand. They would always fail, and so it went on. The numbers dwindled, new people turned up, the cycle of life and death continued unfaltering. A system with him at its holy pinnacle, a god of your own choosing.

There was horror in it, you could acquiesce to that. In fact, it was the kind of deep dread that permeates your very bones with its sickness. But such fear is unique in that sense. It almost loops you headlong back into the arms of acceptance, because what other option do you have but to accept? The despair one could reach by contemplating it is so absolute that it circles back, much like that cycle of life and death – forming first into recognition, then to tolerance, then to love.

Surely, as surely as you loved him, if he came to you with his hands outstretched you would lay your throat between them, pausing only to contemplate whether your end would come by the grip of his palm or the keen edge of a long-clawed finger.

Perhaps he would drink from you, if it were the latter.

Your reverie was broken as he moved away, his heat withdrawing as he stepped back. You shivered instantly at his absence. Without speaking, he turned, moving into another room and leaving you staring at his receding back. The action was not one of abandonment, simply one of duty. A warm glow pooled in your stomach as you watched him close himself away, knowing he would return. He always returns.

Only when there was nothing more of him to see, you made your way into the room where a girl was standing, flipping quietly through papers on the desk. Alicia. She was one of the pleasant ones, never harassing him or vying for his attention. Confident, but not overbearing. Effortlessly beautiful in both mind and soul – definitely one of his favoured students alongside you – but you were never jealous despite this. His love was enough for all that desired it, you knew this to be true. She smiled at you as you entered. Glancing down, you saw her bring the two papers in her hand to the top of the stack she was organising for him. Adjusting the one on the top, you saw her name. You also saw yours.

Following your gaze she nodded slowly, gently. Speaking in a soft tone that matched her expression, she spoke of how she had been asked to wait here while he prepared. You shared a look, private and trusting, as your shared fate crept ever closer. Standing completely still, facing one another, you let the feeling vibrate in the marrow of your bones. The nature of existing in such a place meant that your fate was always whispering at the end of one of the corridors, at the window, curling like smoke and muttering in the alcoves. Despite this – or perhaps due to this – there was no quibbling, no tears, no howling for what was to come. Just a shared gentle smile, and a mutual understanding.

The door – like both of your hearts – was open, and he entered. Extending a hand to place around her shoulder, he turned Alicia’s body towards the archway and walked her to the room you’d seen him enter earlier. She didn’t glance back. From a distance, you watched. No goodbyes were exchanged between you. Neither had felt the need. A goodbye implied something that did not exist here.

You stood amongst his paperwork, gently moving to straighten up some of the piles, gathering his ink pots from the edge of the desk into a neater collection. There was no need to re-order the papers. That would fall to somebody else, in time. Absentmindedly, you thought of Alicia. It felt wrong to sit without him here so you remained standing, leaning from foot to foot. The glow of the candles was soothing. Allowing your fingertips to trace patterns in the woodgrain, you allowed yourself to become lost in thought, eyes only flitting occasionally to follow the playing of two shadows flickering and entwining on the stone. In a small gust of wind, the flame stuttered.

It felt like only a few mere moments had passed since they left, and then he was there again in the doorway. Surely… surely he couldn’t have… already...?

He spoke, cutting through your thoughts and stopping them dead. Any surprise simply dissipated at the smoothness of his tone.

“Alicia is finished with”, he stepped into the half-light of the study. Deep shadows cast themselves across his face, leaving only his calm smile on display. His hat was pulled low, and his hands were clasped behind his back, business-like in their positioning. It did not occur to you to wonder what might be coating them, hidden just out of sight.

“Now the time has come for you to have an audience with Death.”

His words should have scared you, should have galvanised you to run, to keep running but you felt yourself nod, understanding. You knew this, after all. Knew your place in his world was temporary and could never quite find it within yourself to be concerned with that. Unconsciously, you put one foot forward. Then the other. The shadows on the walls seemed to lean inwards. His smile widened, almost imperceptibly. You could have sworn his teeth moved and lengthened as the candlelight crossed them, glinting softly.

Placing his hand at your back – you had reached him already? – he escorted you gently across the hallway, into the room, and closed the door behind you.