This Prompt harkens back to the lich who talked to an adventurer explaining how he made sure the corrupt got the karma they deserved. https://steemit.com/fiction/@internutter/challenge-02264-f074-health-spa-and-karma-services.
It had been a few hundred years since the talk with adventurer, the "spa service" was going well and a few innocents would wander in from time to time hoping to be healed from illnesses no others seem to be able, or willing, to help them cure. Surprising how many clerics are not as altruistic as they claim to be!
One young woman comes into the place and sees the lich's true appearance and, unlike so many, isn't alarmed by his looks, or afraid. She asks to work for him. It's obvious she's very sick, but she doesn't ask to be treated. Instead, she wants what's left of her life to mean something and help others like he's helping them. And, near the end of her life, when she's too weak to do any work and has become bedridden, she holds his hand and tells him, that she loves him and is very proud of him. What's a lich to do? -- DaniAndShali
[AN: One thousand blessings upon you for providing that link and sparing me twenty or more minutes' of archive trawling. May you have green lights when you need them and may you always win more money than you invested in the scratch-offs]
Every now and again, as an immortal, one gets to meet the remarkable. She called herself Whisper when she came to me. Her voice was weakening, even then. I could bleed life from the tumour that was bleeding her dry, but I could not re-instate that vigor to herself. She would rally, that was true, when I drained it, but it inevitably came back. It inevitably took more. Physics had cut it, but it came again in other places. Some where no physic could hope to cut it out and have their patient live.
There were potions to help her stay alive. Potions to give her some vitality and vigor back. I knew them well. I offered them freely. She refused. She wasn't there to take, she said. She was there to give. The fact that I helped her rally was a boon, and my own choice, but the potions... those were hers.
She was dying, and she knew it. I could ease her pain and I did, but she would much rather spend her twilit hours in helping others before she went to the undiscovered country. She had her gods' blessings and they worked for all. Even the wicked.