The Horseman of Death rode through the desert, past cities and towns, across fields and through oceans. It rode the entire world, the entire realm, doing what it had been placed in this world to do: reap the souls of the dying, send them out of the realm and into a future that Death itself did not care about.
Death then crossed out of the human realm, out of that particular universe. It rode through the worlds, looking for the entrance to a place that it had not visited in a long time. The Horseman of Death was going back to the cavern where it had been born. Death needed to go to the place where they all had been born.
The Horseman finally reached that place, a secret hideout that nobody else in the known universe could access. Death transformed into a bipedal, human looking face. It took off the armour, and walked, just wearing a robe, into the depths of the cave, following a straight tunnel that went down.
Death opened the door – Death had always been the one to open the door, in previous occasions too -, and let the light flood the cavern. There they were, four cradles, disposed beautifully. One of them was empty, the same way it had been for millions of years now. Death went past what had been its cradle and looked at them.
The new Horsemen looked healthy.