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Summary
Because at nine you saw his sickness in the flesh, an evil so mindless, so monstrous that your little voice couldn’t yet find the words to name it anything but death. Because death’s fist clenches much further than its arm can reach, and only in her absence did you learn her passing had killed the both of you, that beyond the artifice, beneath the skin, it was all blood and bone and borrowed time.
A collection of microfics and journal entries documenting Mathieu Bellamont's ascension through the ranks of the Dark Brotherhood.