Lady Death

Lady Death glides on the cobblestone roads. You could almost swear you heard the click of stilettos, but it’s more likely the bone ornaments tied into her matted black hair clinking against each other.

Paints her face with burnt bone carbon straight from funeral pyres rather than kohl.

Wrapped in funerary veils, layers of black tulle and sheer silks tattered and flowing behind her in the wind.

A taste for ash, blood and young flesh most of all.

If she crosses your path, step out of her way. Don’t mess with Lady Death, her vengeance is worse than you can ever imagine.