I am the goddess of darkness, first. Darkness and the slow mould of the Earth: the lives buried, the gems undug, the riches hidden. I am the snatching hand, the purse lifted and the coin lost; and I am the woman in the shadows, watching, always watching. I am here even on the well-lit street, for light always makes the darkness deeper. I see treasures thrown away, fortune unshared, precious things put aside for safekeeping then forgotten. I am the relentless thievery of Time, who unfastens the last breath from the body, unlocks the knotted sinew, and picks apart even the eternal bones. I am She who takes the last coin from your pocket, the one you were to give to Charun for safe passage—you do not need it, really.
If you fear me or do not, this is my advice. Live your life so it cannot be stolen. Live your life as a string of jewels, bright and beautiful and of value, for upon your death, this alone can not be taken from you. So that when life is cheated from you (and it will be), you have had the joy of it.
All graves are unmarked; all cemeteries full and empty. I am the dancing skeleton at the feast, I am the voice whispered in the triumphant general's ear: Remember me. Remember death, so that you may understand how to live.