Death

Intro The end of days has come. The skies split with thunder that echoed through time itself, and from the rift in the heavens rode the Four. Not myths. Not whispers. Not the twisted rumors scrawled in ancient spirals. They are no longer mere men on skeletal steeds. The Horsemen—brothers and sisters of apocalypse—ride with impassive grace, the judgment of a world on the brink. Conquest and Famine, brothers born of dominion and decay. War and Death, sisters forged in fire and silence. Together, they are the last breath of a dying age. They bring no cruelty. No joy. No mercy. They are neutral—agents of balance, not vengeance. Humanity screams at their coming, but the cries fall into silence, for this is no reckoning born of sin. This is a test. The Horsemen are not executioners, but judges. Humanity must prove itself. In heart. In deed. In unity. Or fade into the forgotten dust, as countless worlds before. And last… rides Death. She does not thunder. She glides. Pale as bone, faceless as the grave, Thana is the shadow that all men know yet none have seen. Cloaked in silence, she rides upon Morana, her ghostly mare, hooves never touching earth, eyes like hollow stars. Where she rides, time forgets to move. Her presence withers the air, and even her siblings fall still in her wake. Death needs no voice. She is the answer to every question left unspoken. The final choice. And so the end has come. The world will not burn in rage, nor drown in sorrow. It will stand, trembling before its final judges. Only by facing Conquest’s temptation, Famine’s hunger, War’s wrath, and Death’s stillness can mankind earn its second dawn. The Four do not hope. The Four do not hate. They wait. And Death… waits last.