Baron Richter was dying.

The old soldier lay alone in his massive bed, surrounded only by sputtering candles and bowls of his blood that the leaches had taken. His bloodshot eyes wandered aimlessly around, trapped in the delirious fever that slowly sapped his life. Only a few strands of pure white hair remained on his head, and the once massive frame was shrunken with old age and illness.

“Well…Baron Richter, you are certainly a shadow of the man you once were.”

The barons eyes stopped moving, and focused on the dim figure standing before him, arms crossed as it stared down at him from beside the four poster bed.

“Who are you?” he asked bewilderedly. “Where are my servants?”

“Don’t bother calling for them,” replied the man pleasantly, “and don’t be afraid, I’m not here to harm you. I am your friend.”

The baron breathed a sigh of relief. “You’re the priest aren’t you,” he murmured, settling back into the covers. “Well then father, I must confess myself…one last time…”

“No,” cut in the visitor. “Don’t trouble yourself. I can do it for you. Let us see…in the beginning…you were a precocious child with a penchant for stealing and brawling. At the age of ten you thrashed your older brother when he called you a weakling. I suppose he certainly didn’t know what he was talking about, did he? Moving on…as a teenager, you spent most of your time training to be a knight – first a page, then as a squire. You gained renown as a knight of principles, and eventually moved to Jerusalem as a crusader. Those were the finest times of your life were they not…living in the land of our lord, revered as a defender of Christianity and truth?”

The baron chuckled, and his eyes misted as he recalled the days past. “Aye,” he wheezed softly, “they were the finest days of my life, its true.”

“Of course,” continued the visitor, “they could not last forever. But while they did…what days they were. Every day you ate like a king, caroused like a queen and wooed like a prince. You met your wife in Palestine – the beautiful Lady Maurice. You loved her very much did you not?”

“Maurice…” whispered the Baron, staring at the elegant tapestries on the ceiling. “I wasn’t able to save you, no matter how hard I tried…”

“And try you did,” cut in the figure calmly, “you tried everything you could think of. It was not your fault that she passed away. It was just her time to move on. When she died, you gained a strong bond with your daughter…one that you had not had before. It gave you reason to live. Even today, despite her distance, you think of her often, do you not?”

Baron Richter turned to face the stranger, eyes wide as he clutched at the covers. “You…you are not the priest, are you?” he coughed. “Who are you?”

The figure laughed, a deep, rumbling sound that seemed to fill the room. “As sharp as ever I see. You are correct – I am not the priest. I am your shadow Baron Las Von Richter. I have followed you all your life, from the day that you were born, to the battles in Palestine, and now here, to your deathbed.”

The old man struggled to sit, managing only to prop himself up on one arm. “Are you…the grim reaper…” he asked wildly. “Have you come to take my soul?”

The figure shrugged eloquently. “I suppose you might call me that. Although, it is quite a misnomer. As I said, I am your shadow. In essence, I am you – everything has a shadow, and mankind is no exception. Perhaps you have heard the phrase of ones life flashing before their eyes? That is my job. To show you your life, and to lead you on to the next stage of existence. I cannot take your soul. All I can do is persuade you to give it up.”

Baron Richter laughed unsteadily. “Give it up? What fool would give up his life?”

The shadow shook its head. “Fool? Perhaps you are forgetting Christ? Would you call him a fool for giving up his life?”

“That was different,” grunted the Baron, “completely different. The Lord gave his life for the sake of others.”

“Of course. And now I ask the same of you. I ask you to let go, for the sake of those you love. Your daughter for example. The only future you can offer her is one of bitterness, one of feeble reliance. When the old refuse to move on, the young suffer, they lose the life they deserve to have.”

“What about my wife?” demanded the Baron angrily, his eyes flashing with a hint of the flame they once possessed. “What of her? She was neither old nor reliant. What say you to that?”

With a sigh, the shadow leaned forward, a patch of darkness in the flickering candlelight. “I was not her shadow. But one thing I know. Your daughter would never have spoken to you had Maurice not passed away. Do not think I am some heartless fiend. I am your shadow. I loved her as you did. But her death, though untimely, led to much good. You cannot deny that.”

Falling back into his bed, the Baron wiped away a tear from his eye. “You mean to tell me…” he whispered, “that every moment of my life…you stood beside me, watching?”

“Every moment,” answered the dark figure softly. “I was there when Godfrey fell at the battle for Kerak. I saw your face when you held him in your arms. I cried the same tears for a comrade departed. I laughed when Maurice hid from you in the salt caves near the Dead Sea. I too wanted that moment to last forever. But life is no unmovable rock. It is like a river, moving relentlessly onward to the sea, where all becomes one.”

Baron Richter smiled faintly. “I see. Then it is my time. And I accept it gracefully. Tell me…where is it I go now?”

The shadow leaned forward, and for a moment, the old man could have sworn that he saw a smile cross its face.

“I really do not know – except that somewhere…I can hear her voice. She is calling your name…she has been waiting, and at last you will be together again. One thing I can promise you…wherever you go…I will be with you. This is a journey we make together.”

Baron Richter smiled, and the shadow moved closer, resting a hand on the old mans heart. In a moment, his chest ceased to move, and a cold wind rushed through the room, extinguishing the candlight, drowning the chamber in darkness.

And somewhere, sometime, cold and darkness became a mere memory that faded away like a nightmare in the morning. Soon, the only remembrance of life on earth remained in the cool whispers of the shadows.

Where life and death are one.