Figures wove through the halls, their fluttered heartbeats seeped me as I sensed their brimming lifelines, their souls brimmed with intensity and steadily faded as their fated time crept closer. The gift of time bled through my veins and tainted the blood that I was given, I alone, held the power to erase their existence with ease with the fates that bound them to this realm woven through my fingers and seared into my soul. I was endless, Immortal, and above all, hated by the one man who knew of my existence and loathed the gifts the gods gave me.
I was the end to Titus’s existence.
Others have sought what I possess, I thought as I ran my fingers over the silken blooming roses.
I was a slave to my memories, with torture riddling my mind. Azrael may have healed the surface scars and ye
