Kaitlyn shivered and tugged her threadbare cloak more tightly about her as she sat before the dying fire. Its embers crackled and sparked in the cool autumn air, and the occasional fiery geyser shook a flaming fist at the oncoming winter. The limp fabric did little to ward off the chill, and the once-proud bonfire could not even warm a cup of tea anymore.

Splinters from the stump she sat on poked her legs, adding to her discomfort. She had already tried at least a dozen different positions, and none were any more comfortable than the last, although more than a few were worse. She sighed, a plume of steam billowing from her mouth and entwining with the thread of smoke still streaming into the night air. The revelers had left long ago, ending their dance as soon as the last log was placed on the fire, drifting away in groups as they readied their homes for the anticipated supernatural invasion. Even those who came for a more solemn purpose, remembering the lives of the dead and pleading with them to stay in their graves, had left, the last one departing an hour ago. Now Kaitlyn was alone.

She had been alone for five years.

Five years ago, almost to the day, her newlywed husband James had succumbed to the plague that had ravaged the region, sending untold hundreds to their graves and eliminating almost half the population of their small village. He first showed signs of illness two days after their wedding and was bedridden twelve hours later. From the beginning she was at his side, comforting him in his pain and caring for him in his humiliation, whispering words of love to him and receiving a smile in return. He died before the next new moon.

The village talked. How strange that a healthy young man would fall so violently ill so soon after exchanging vows? Superstition ran rampant. Villagers clustered and whispered amongst themselves whenever they saw her, and mothers gathered their children close when she passed by. She had done something, spoken evil words and made a pact with the underworld, a stranger who cursed him and absorbed his life energy. Some called her a witch, and still dressed in her mourning black, she looked the part. At least they were too afraid of her to expel her from the town, lest they be cursed themselves. A wry smile creased her mouth. At least being a pariah carried some benefits, however unwanted.

The whistling wind picked up the debris left by the revelers and pummeled the fire, which spat back sparks in reply. A malevolent voice came from the darkness, whispering with the wind and filling Kaitlyn with terror. “Do not fight me. All must perish and decay!” Cold, invisible fingers slipped beneath her cloak and massaged her skin with their icy tips and pricked her flesh. The bitterest cold she had ever known flooded into her veins from the point of penetration and coursed through her body with every beat of her heart, paralyzing her and stopping her breath in her throat. “This is not your time.”

“If it is not her time, then leave her be!” A vibrant voice from the fire rebuked the darkness. A sense of hope and mystery formed in Kaitlyn’s mind. She knew that voice. A splash of sparks kissed her lips, stinging with their heat but thawing her lungs. She exhaled, first removing the icy air from her lungs, and with her next breath, warmth flooded her chest and broke her free of her captor’s restraints. The fire burst to life. A cyclone of fire rose from the embers and took the shape of a man, first the feet and hands, then a torso, and finally a featureless face.

The being stepped away from the cyclone, and its features clarified into a young man wearing coveralls over a white shirt, and freshly burnished boots gleaming in the now-dim light. His bearded face smiled at her and his bright eyes communicated comfort. He beckoned for her to stand.

“I must be dreaming!” Kaitlyn rose to her feet, suddenly unsteady. The man reached out and took her by the wrist, supporting her. “James? But how?”

“Yes. I do not have long.” He drew her close and placed a cool finger on her lips. “No questions. I had to come. You see, I never properly thanked you for caring for me in my last days.” He shook his head. “From the other side, I have seen how they have treated you, regarded you as an outcast even before they lowered me into the ground. Some of them I would have called my friends. How I hated what they have done to you!” His face darkened, growing sinister in the shadows, like a demon scowling through the fires of hell. He sighed, and the vision passed, becoming himself again. “But I am not here for revenge.” He took her hands in his and kissed her fingers. “I can take you from this place of misery.” He released her.

“What do you propose?” Her world began to spin. She stepped back, reaching for her stump, something real to tell her this was not a hallucination brought about through grief and the beginnings of the season of death.

“Come with me, and you can be with me forever! You will finally be blessed because of the love you showed me, and you need never think about your trials here again.” He pointed to the glowing coals. “Follow me into the embers, and you will be taken from this world and all its misfortunes.” The fire blazed to new life, licking at James’ heels with tongues of orange and purple. He held out his hand. “Take my hand, and all will be well.”

Kaitlyn closed her eyes. James had rescued her from her former estate, then from loneliness, then from the specter at the fire, and now he promised to take her from the tribulations she had suffered at the hands of the villagers, forever. “But you are dead! How can I go with you?”

“I am only as dead as you consider me to be,” he replied. “My time is short. Please decide quickly! Take my hand.”

If she went with him, she would live forever with the love of her life. If she went with him, she would never return to this world. If she went with him, what would she become? It no longer mattered. She had nothing here to return to. “I will go.” She extended her arm, and he took her by the wrist.

“Step into the fire.” He led her forward. “Do not worry. It will be painless. Allow me to guide you.”

“I will trust you.” Still with her eyes closed, she walked with him to the red-hot coals. He said it would not hurt, and he had always told her the truth. That was what she found most dear about him. No matter the circumstances, he had never misled her. Her foot struck something, a small root or rock, and she stumbled forward. She opened her eyes on reflex. Her husband James gazed at her with confidence, and his firm grip around her bony wrist gave her security. The glow illuminated her narrow fingers. She had suffered even more than she realized, they were so narrow and harsh. The fire flashed, and she blinked. Where her hands had been were bony fingers, stripped of all flesh. She gasped and pulled back. He did not let go.

“What is wrong?” he asked.

Saying nothing, feeling weak, she brought her free hand to her face. Her cheek was rough, skeletal. She brought her hand before her eyes. It was also bone. “Let go of me!” She turned away and tore her gaze from the fire. Ten feet beyond the flame, the world melted into darkness. There was nothing, no one.

A cold voice whispered in her ear, “This is the season of death.”

She whispered back. “You said it was not my time!”

A new breeze, colder and stronger than ever, beat at the duo and at the fire, suppressing its flames. “Kaitlyn, I will disappear when the fire goes out. We have to go! Do not worry about your body. You do not need it where I am taking you. You must-“ A final gust from the night extinguished the fire, and James’ voice cut off mid-sentence. His body crumbled to ash and scattered in the wind.

“And it is not your time,” the voice on the wind replied. The form of a young child swirled from the ashes, lit by a glow from beyond the world. “It will not be your time for a while yet. Go in peace, live your life, and I will return for you when I am ready.”

The phantom vanished, leaving Kaitlyn cold, shaken, but very much alive.