Chronicles of Blood and Silver

Steel does not distinguish between what deserves to die and what simply dies.

There is a continent with no name on the maps that still dare to draw it, where cities are built upon the ruins of the cities that preceded them and where bell towers do not call to prayer but to shut the doors before nightfall. Demons are real and do not come from any outer dimension — they form from within, like the rot that germinates in fruit before becoming visible on the skin. Any human being can become one if the desire is deep enough, if the price of survival is high enough, if the pain lasts too long without finding release. The Apostles are those who crossed that threshold and returned as something different, bearing the mark of their former humanity like a scar that no longer hurts. In this world there is a mercenary company known as The Silver Hand, famous not for its victories but because its members all carry a Mark: a wound that never fully closes, that aches when demons are near, and that eventually consumes them if they cannot find a reason to keep living. Destiny in this world is not a promise but a trap — and those who pursue it often discover too late that what they were chasing was chasing them.