Wulver seated his guest sat in the dining room. The man put his head on the dining table which stared at Wulver. They sat in silence. Wulver nearly asked the man if he would like to have some supper but stopped his tongue at the last second. But the quiet kept bringing phantoms of his doom in his head, so he decided to break the ice with the next best courtesy.

"Y-you look cold," Wulver stammered. "Would you like to warm yourself by my fireplace?"

"No fire can warm me."

"Ah, quite a pickle. Would you like to eat something?" He realized too late what he said.

The body shifted in the chair. "I am not hungry for food."

"Oh?"

"I am hungry for souls."

"..."

"Yes, I am hungry for a soul. Don't be troubled, Wulver. I am not here for yours. You will become a white wolf before long if you keep getting frightened. Though you are not a wolf, are you?, and yet you are not a man either. What are you exactly, I wonder?... You are not like Old Stinker either."

"Old Stinker?"

The bodyless head ignored him. "But what is Wulver?"

"Wulver is me, I suppose."

The head narrowed its eyes. "You are making a jest of me."

Wulver panicked. "No, I wouldn't dream of it!"

The head smiled. "I was the one making a jest of you, dear Wulver. Pardon me. You have nothing to fear from me." He then laughed. It sent shivers down his spine again. It was a terrible laugh. It sounded like the last gasps of a dying man who was laughing mad.

All these happenings irritated Wulver's nerves, and he found amidst his fear and terror, actual irritation bubbling up. Why was there so much happening on his island all of a sudden? Why was he entertaining a headless man in what seems to be a never-ending winter?

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"Who are you? Why are you here? And how do you know who I am?" Wulver asked. It was high time he got explanations.

The head stopped laughing and looked at Wulver seriously. "I am the Dullahan. I come for the dead, for those whose time is up in this mortal plane."

"...Is my time up?"

"If it were I wouldn't drop in for a chat. All I would need to do would be to stand outside and call your name. Then, your soul would come out of your body and to me willingly. Hmm, or should I say unwillingly? In any case, one would be unable to refuse my death call. Nifty, isn't it?"

"Very convenient," Wulver said for politeness' sake.

"Hm, let me give a demonstration for you. Wulver!"

When Dullahan said his name, he didn't say it in his hoarse voice. It was a high voice, a piercing voice, a commanding voice. The voice was in the air as if waiting for him. Wulver didn’t move and then it was gone.

“See,” the Dullahan said, his voice back to its wheezing tone. “You have nothing to fear from me.”

“Then why are you here?” Wulver asked, after collecting his scrambled bearings. He feared the otherworldly being before him. A herald of death. Ha! Nothing to fear he said. If he was not here for tea, he was certainly here for trouble. “Of course, I am not saying I don’t like your company,” he added just in case he angered his guest.

“To warn you, Wulver,” the Dullahan said. “I suppose you are aware of the unceasing winter which plagues your little island. Well, it is no natural winter. Oh, it seems you had your suspicions. Good, good. Do you recall seeing a strange fog?”

“Seeing? I thought I was chased by it! I kept a vigil the entire night I saw it outside my window. I thought it had come to attack me. What is it?"

"He's a Fey. The fog is its own making. It shrouds itself in it, and even I am unable to find it. Of course, the state of your island was a giveaway that he was here. The legends of the men call him the Grey Man. Though I do know it as a great king of old who… interacted with demons."

"What does it want here?"

"He's a king. He wants his own kingdom. He will turn your island into a lifeless frozen rock. One will not be able to separate it with an iceberg in the sea."

Wulver gulped. "How do we stop this Grey Man?"

"We?" the Dullahan asked. "You are going to stop the Grey Man."

"Wait. I? But you can easily stop him. Just use your death call upon him."

"I can't."

"You don't know his name?"

"Oh, I do. But I won't utter it here. It’s an evil name."

"Then why won't you?"

"Because," the Dullahan said and his headless body leaned in conspiratorially, "he is already dead."