The keeper's wife returned to find her husband well, and for his documentation the keeper could mark no solution to his miraculous revival. So time passed quickly as time does and in that time the keeper and his wife were happy.
Nine and three quarters years passed with no falter in the couple's happy routine, but as the decade came to a close the keeper noticed a dark shroud encircling his wife as her normally cheerful manner dissolved. He inquired relentlessly, but she refused to answer. Her love for him was strong, and she knew his love for her was just as, and she refused to gift motivation that would lead him to mimic her terrible sacrifice.
That is until the fog grew unbearable, and in her last moments—symptoms none aside from darkness—she relented in a whisper.
“You have your health,” she said. “And the Devil has my soul.”
That was the last she spoke, and her body grew cold and unresponsive although the pulse of life through her veins remained. The keeper was furious. Desperation circled within his veins and carried within every breath he took. He left his documents and his village to seek out The Devil and reclaim the soul of his love.
He took the road upon his fastest steed and soon found the barren land encircled by orchids. Hesitation was a cautious man's game, one the keeper at that time knew not, thus he summoned the Devil on the Tramping Ground as his wife had those ten years ago.
“I wish to make a deal,” he said as the crickets, owls, and leaves grew silent. “I offer you my soul.”
Even the youngest, most naive trees knew not to rustle as the night darkened still.
“And your wish?” echoed the cold, fathomless voice.
The keeper didn't hesitate. “The soul of my wife returned.”
Silence passed and fell, but no rope was bound.
“No,” the Devil said. “Her soul is mine.”
But the keeper's course was set and he spoke again. “Then I ask only for power enough to kill you.”
This time, the knot bound inside his chest, and the keeper knew it so. “You have ten years to find me,” the Devil said. “Farewell.”
The darkness lifted, leaves rustled with the wind, and slowly crickets and owls returned to their song. The keeper felt unfathomable strength lift his curved spine and turn his frail arms iron. He grabbed from his pack a sword and a spade, and began to dig.