I wonder how much they need to know, these new Horsemen. But who am I to make such decisions for the other three? Did not Death -- the previous Death, the First Death...Winter...decide to end when he found out of his replacement? And now she is Death when she could have had a longer life.

We Originals did not have a choice. We were created as we were with no before, and so I often now wonder if there shall be an after for me. Was there an after for the First Death? If I am honest with myself...that much, I wish not to know.

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Let that be the one mystery left for me. And let the other three, and those that will come after have a mystery as well: let them not know their existence is a tragedy.

We are all of us creatures from the stuff stars are made of and fallen to this Earth as dust. And so to dust shall we all inevitably return. After all: death is but a door, and mine has not yet opened.