Prologue: Blood, Ash and Snow

Despite the countless nights spent contemplating the subject, dying came to Mayn as somewhat of a shock. He always thought it would end with him on the point of a sword before his corpse was dumped in some ditch with the rest of the trash. He always thought that, after seventeen years of looking for death, he would find it by sticking his hand in the wrong pocket. But, it seemed death was an impatient entity, it had sought him out instead. There was still a sword to die upon and, while he had not yet been buried, there was plenty of garbage to be immersed in under the fallen snow. He drew breath still, each weaker than the one before it, as his life spilled onto the mudded floor from the hole where his heart used to be. Bits of his last breath were still lodged in his chest.

A shadowed figure stood before him, speaking words Mayn could only half hear. Terms and conditions were tossed about, bartering in values Mayn couldn’t understand. So he waited, head lolled to the side and eyes unblinking, until the figure extended his hand, soft and pale in the moonlight, as if he expected Mayn’s dead limbs to grasp it. He didn’t know how to tell the shade he was dead, that the dead couldn’t move, and so he sighed his final sigh. The figure blinked twice, coming to a realization, and sat down across from the body grinning slightly to itself.

The deal was struck.