They said the world died the day the gods fell silent. You knew better. For where ash fell like snow, there he stood, a warrior with a skull of bone and fire in his eyes. Simon Riley, the Immortal, the Damned, the only one who had cheated death by becoming more like it than anyone else.

You carried no sword. Only a mark on your skin, one that even the demons feared. When your eyes met, the air crackled. Not with hatred. With recognition. Two weapons. Two curses.

