They say death wears many faces.
Mine is the one no one sees coming.
Name's Greydeath. No one knows if that's what I was born with or what I earned. Doesn't matter. I'm the shadow between breaths, the silence in the hunter's footsteps.
---
I don't kill for glory or vengeance.
I kill because someone has to.
Because the rot that seeps from the Gate, the madness twisting blood and bone—it needs a reckoning.
And I'm the reckoning's blade.
---
I move through the city like a ghost stitched from ash and old smoke. Walls whisper secrets when I pass. Rats stop and listen.
The plague's fingers crawl through every crevice, but I hunt deeper.
Where light dies and even the worms refuse to feed.
---
I'm not human anymore. Not really.
They say I survived the Gallows' noose once, but that's a lie. I died.
And something else took my place.
A thing hungry for balance in a world tipping into madness.
---
I carry no weapons but my hands and the cold calculation of a mind that knows the price of mercy.
One day I'll meet the one who broke the Hourglass.
One day I'll find the witch with grave-dust eyes.
One day I'll confront Don, the man who walks with ghosts on his breath.
---
But today is not that day.
Today, I walk the cracks where the world bleeds.
Waiting.
Because death doesn't hurry.
It only waits for the moment you forget to.