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Revenge
Countless souls have fallen prey to its grasp, their lives shattered as deeply as those they sought to harm, if not more so.
For most, mere death isn't the end
It's not enough to satiate their thirst
They crave retribution, wish for something beyond the grave. They want misery upon those who've wronged them. Long for the torment of those who've wounded them
But at the end of the day, it's merely a wish,
A burning desire for- well, nothing realistic, really
For they are weak. Powerless
Some may even deem them useless
But then, there exist the select few- those who refuse to settle for anything less than the worst, denying death's grasp to unleash a living hell upon their enemies,
Those who take matters into their own hands, seizing control & becoming the architects of their own vengeance,
Now those, those are dangerous.
For in their eyes, the concept of contentment is a foreign notion, replaced by a searing ache for more-
More agony, despair.
More misery, more wails.
More destruction, chaos.
People like him, they feed off of fear, thrive in causing pain. They're cunning, calculating, heartless
But frankly, even the most twisted of them seem like harmless amateurs in comparison to him.
He reeks of death
Exudes darkness, sorrow
Death is all that shadows his steps, making his existence a reminder of the inevitable fate that awaits his victims.
And whispers in the Russian underworld speak of him as Mors- The god of death
So, what happens when a girl, who abandoned her family, her life & the very empire bestowed upon her- just to escape the sight of death, catches the eyes of the reaper?
What happens when he pulls her into the abyss of his world, intent on destroying all she has fought to be in pursuit of vengeance?
And what happens when, as the day wanes, the embodiment of her deepest fear captures her eyes as well?
