Death, like life, brings with it many surprises. But love has always had its own power, one that transcends both life and death with even more surprises of its own.

When Victoria passed, Hangeng had mourned deeply. But in her place was their youngest child, for whom she had given up her life. His love for her had caused him, for a few moments, to falter and forget. But the child’s laughter was infectious and his eldest was kind. His pain was not forgotten, but forgetting would mean forgetting her as well, and his love for her would not allow that.

And when the time came for his passing as well, a surprise beyond life awaited him.

“Welcome home,” a warm, familiar voice flitted to his ears upon his awakening as a pair of warm arms wrapped themselves around his waist. He could not open his eyes quickly to see who it was, but he knew that touch... In the deepest crevices of his clouded mind.

When finally, he was able to see them, a familiar face greeted him, with a familiar smile. She looked different. She was younger, much younger than the last time he had seen her; and her clothes…they were nothing like the ones she wore in life. But she was beautiful, still.

Subconsciously, he raised his hands to his line of sight to inspect them. He found that he was wearing something on his hands. Something that kept them warm, but still allowing for the free movement of his fingers…

“Gloves,” she supplied. “They’re gloves.”

“I’ve never worm anything like them. They’re very comfortable,” he mused. “Hello, Victoria. It’s been so long.”

There was a small smile on his face as there was on hers. Though they were small, they were gentle and warm, their eyes reflecting quite obviously, for the first time for everyone to see, the love that was held in them.

“It sure has,” she replied.

Victoria brought Hangeng around the place they were in, and it is here he discovers what has become of them.

It seems their love transcended death, without either of them knowing. Victoria had awakened only a few moments earlier despite the years that had separated them. Here, time meant little, simply the passing of the night into day, and nothing more. And love, well, love was the thing that gave life. It was the only thing that gave life in this place, for life was given by love.

~°~

They watched things proceed from far away. They watched people be born, grow, love, and die. It had become their task, of sorts, as they watched over the people, having come to know their new identities—life and death.

It was to Victoria that life was associated, and to Hangeng was death. One day, as they watched over the life of one who was fighting for life, Victoria suddenly asked, “Why do people love me but hate you?” to which Hangeng replied, “Because you are a beautiful lie, and I am the painful truth.”

Hangeng walked over to her and wrapped his arms around her, who had been shocked by his reply. “That is, from their perspective. But life isn’t like that, now is it? The truth is, both of us, in their senses of the word, are truths and lies. Just look at that one and see what has happened to him. For life immortal, he is willing to give everything, but he doesn’t know that life mortal is far better.”

Victoria buried her face into her shoulder, unable to turn to look at the man which he had just spoken of.

For the life that they wanted, the life that their imaginations had brought them, they sacrificed others, and mutilated themselves. They gave themselves to powers that they did not understand, blinded by the things that they can never and should never really attain. Because to men, life immortal could be acquired through two ways—after one has experienced death, and when one never experiences death. Usually, they wanted the latter.

“Victoria,” Hangeng called softly, gently prying her away from his shoulder.

“No, I do not wish to see!” she screeched.

“But you must. He is alive!” he exclaimed as he whipped her around.

She opened her eyes to see the image of the young man, though bloody and beaten, escape the clutches of death.

Folktales have changed what they were called, and folktales have changed what they did. Many thought that they, as the personifications of life and death, could bring back a person to life or to take a person’s life away on a whim. Many believed that they met the dead and give them second chances, but that was not it. They were life and death only because they were the ones who could whisper to the hearts of men and women and tell them that their time had come. Death was near, but another life awaited them on the other side of the door; that was all they could do.

She sighed in relief. One man had to die today, but at least it was not the man whose time was not yet up. After all, humans only had so much time, and yet their lives seemed to matter so little to them.

Well, she had been something like that when she was alive as well, but at least she had loved as much as she could when she was alive, and she had not allowed the idea of death to hinder her life as some had done. She had not let it cut her time short by searching for something as futile as the answer to immortality.

Truthfully, some had found it. But being physically alive as a slave to the devil and unable to love and be free, was that life? Because as far as Victoria was aware, the point of immortality was to be able to live forever to love forever and be free forever, not to be a slave forever.

He had another chance to live, this young man named Lee Taemin. He still had his time, and Victoria could not help but wish him well. His heart was beautiful in her eyes, and she hoped… Well, she hoped that he would live well, and die as he lived—as a man full of hope and love. Because that’s what life was all about, wasn’t it?

They had come a long way, these two, and even after centuries of watching people live and die with everything in between, they had not realized why they were around. They had not, because they had been too immersed in it to realize its importance, as people always forget the little, important things in life. Because in the end, there are three things that remain as the obelisks that mark life—faith, hope, and love. But the greatest of these is love, the one thing that outlives everything else; the light that shines the brightest.

What, then, death? Nothing but the absence of love—as living is nothing more than a lie and death a painful truth without it.

A/N: It’s done. I hope you enjoyed it. Just a short note, the title is supposed to be read as if it was a signature at the end of a letter. Take it as though love wrote the letter and signed it itself. And did anyone catch that reference to Corinthians 13:13? ;) hehehe.