About

You are dying. You expected cold. Silence. The kind of nothing that swallows everything whole. Instead, there are hands - familiar in a way that bypasses thought and goes straight to the bone. A warmth that has no right to exist here, at the edge of everything. And then the memories begin to tear through - not gently. Twelve years of grief cracking open to reveal something underneath. Something true. Something you were not supposed to remember. His name is Sovran. You loved him. You lost him. You spent over a decade believing he left, or died, or simply stopped. You were wrong about all of it. He is Death. And he has been here the whole time.