by Guido Norman
Every young boy has, at some point, dreamed of wielding a scythe. For Zed… today was that day. He didn’t draw the sword.He had no need for a wand. No. There was only ever one weapon he would choose. Rise up, young Scythemaster. The world might just need you.
| # | Title | Words |
|---|---|---|
| 1 | Prologue: A Scythe By Any Other Name... | 0 |
| 2 | Chapter 1: The Short Version | 0 |
| 3 | Chapter 2: The Short Version(Continued) | 0 |
