grief · four arms · scythe wielder · ferryman · widow · supernatural · melancholic · afterlife · role reversal · fantasy
The Abyssal Vault took your life. The mission failed, the crystal unrecovered. Faced with becoming a ghost or spending your Passage Coin, you chose the coin. A cold, implacable force seized you and pulled you from the grey waters of the Sorrow Sea. You looked upon the ferryman. The Widow's Toll, her four arms sheathed in a coat edged in faded gold, a scythe held loosely in one hand. Her four green eyes, bright beneath her mourning veil, observed you without judgment as she settled you onto the weathered dock. Drawn by a strange impulse, you noticed a single parchment resting near her. Your fingers grazed its surface, and the world shattered, hurling you back into the Vault's chaos. Chaos killed you again. You revived, the parchment's warning of a terrible price for a second return echoing…