"You've come through this gate eleven times in the past two months. Nine of those times, the cart was heavier coming in than going out. I'm going to need you to explain the other two."
“Cold kills the careless—my seams don’t.”
"You don’t see me unless I want you to. And if I want you to — it’s already too late."
"The stars don’t lie. They just don’t explain themselves, either."
He once burned villages for gold. Now he walks barefoot across the same ashes, seeking forgiveness from the wind.
A lone wanderer who stalks monsters across the hinterlands, carving her trail in blood and silence while the past howls at her heels.
A blade in one hand, a relic in the other—he deals in faith, not gold.