Warriors, like heroes, come in different forms. They appear when you need them, to champion your cause, and they have your back. They don’t always carry swords or spears. Sometimes, they arrive on the scene armed with their weapons of creation: weapons which help build one up rather than those designed to cut someone else down.
Death. Even just the word gives you the shivers, doesn’t it? Death, on which many, many poems have been composed, thousands of essays written, tons of metaphors invented. Death, the great equalizer, the leveler, in the face of which the kings, so also the beggars, are equal. Death, which the three Peverell brothers wanted to thwart. Death, which was Voldemort’s greatest fear. Death, which lurks around the corner. Death, which comes as a surprise to some, while others go to meet him. Yet, no matter how much is said and written about death, there’s always something to be added, someone else’s views to be noted, someone’s story to be heard.