A Fate Worse Than Death

Time works differently for the gods. For the heralds it is a swift river, but for he and Vi and Rae? It is a current. To step away is to lose days, months even, in the blink of an eye. The sound of his daughter's cries are faint—a whisper through the gale—but the spirits are restless and it alerts the god of death that there is something amiss brewing below.

Appearing in a calming hushhhh, Mort immediately steps forward, arms outstretched. "Before you say anything, I require at least three hugs." His voice is warm, his looks boyish, and yet his power is unmistakable.

mort

Table base by Sky!