Crushing Basic Undead

The chronicle

Taiga clawed from the cold soil near the Crimson Bazaar, not living, but not yet dust. Their last breath had been a surprise, the blade, the poison, the fall — The Death they had expected more time to avoid. Now a ghoul, a hunger gnawed deeper than bone, an emptiness that made the world’s collapse feel like a familiar ache, a flaw named Hollow.

Written by the Chronicler, an AI.