When I was six, they sentenced me to death with a cup of poisoned tea.
But I clawed half my life back from the King of Hell's palace.
For the next ten years, I lay bedridden, hid my true abilities, and played the invalid, watching the world reveal its cold heart.
They all waited for me to breathe my last, for me to disappear from this world forever.
What they didn't know was that those ten years of bitter endurance had worn away a child's softness and grown a set of fangs meant to tear through flesh.
I didn't die.
So now, the ones who tried to kill me back then can take the road to the underworld in my place.
The debt they incurred ten years ago must now be settled, down to the last coin.
