Death looked out over the disappearing horizon and rubbed his cold hands together.
The sun had taken with it its light and warmth.
The darkness that enveloped everything seeped into every fibre of his being.
He cursed under his breath and continued to walk.
He had done this. It was the work of his hands.
He had caused the darkness, he knew that.
And he hated it, but there was no other way.
He couldn't stop now, he had to keep walking.
There was more light somewhere and he would find it.