Thanatos

He carried the stench of death upon him so he had, from birth, and all knew but he. All he met, unknown, sang a silent hymn that he would not touch, so extend the spree. Yet, he lived amongst them, as fate decreed for those, caressed who had such little choice turned to other deities to intercede; they were not there, or did not hear their voice. So death followed him, a pitying trail across far distances, and endless space; leaving a few, untouched, to mourn and wail; that is the cycle of our human race.