“He’s late,” grumbled War, his gauntleted hand resting on the hilt of a sword too large for any mortal to lift. Below, shambling figures dotted the flooded streets—not demons, not angels. Just men. Hollow-eyed, starving, infected with a quiet, desperate madness.
The sky was the color of a fresh bruise, churning with ash and the dying light of a sun that had forgotten how to warm. Four horses stood on the ridge overlooking the ruins of a coastal city. Not just any horses—the pale, reeking mounts of the apocalypse. But one saddle was empty. darksiders dayz
“They shoot on sight,” Fury muttered, watching a living man in a torn raincoat club another for a can of beans. “Pathetic.” “He’s late,” grumbled War, his gauntleted hand resting
The survivor pulled the trigger. The bullet passed through Death’s cloak, harmless. Death turned, skull-face impassive. Not just any horses—the pale, reeking mounts of
“You fear the end of days,” Death said, his voice like grinding stones. “But you are already living in the aftermath of something worse. You are not fighting for survival. You are fighting for a world that forgot how to die.”