77simple
The city remembers all.
Every cry entombed in concrete.
Every shadow that clung too long to the asphalt.
Every secret someone desperately tried to carry beyond its walls.
Around his neck he wears a thorn - the last relic of her whose name was scraped from the world's memory.
He grew up in the shadow of a man whose hands never once trembled.
He took into his grasp a weapon that still recalled the warm, coppery taste of alien flesh, yet could not forget the day another's death wrapped itself around him like a cloak.
His tale is not one of choosing between light and darkness.
It is the story of how, in a world where every path is already written, a single flicker of doubt is sometimes enough to send a fracture racing through the very bedrock of fate.