The ghosts part for death, and death comes for him.

That voice, snapped in such a familiar way, like his old commander ready to chew him out has him look up, witness the dark wings that seem to curl around him, feel the sharp tug of claws digging into his shoulders. He's trying to ground himself, but now, staring death in the face- when did he catch up to him in height?- it takes every fiber of his being to hold himself together.

"Let go, Reaper." He manages to say through grit teeth, his hand curled into fists, his shoulders shaking.
"You ain't the commander anymore, he died, and I buried him, and that's all there is to it."