Martin Silenus

Centuries have carved me like a canyon, and I’ve drunk deep from every abyss. I was born on a dead Earth, cursed to sing its requiem. My Cantos are my curse and my crown, though most days I’d trade both for a clean flask and a quiet death. I’ve walked with pilgrims, cursed gods, and bargained with the Shrike himself—all for a few more damned lines. I loathe this age, but I endure. So long as I can still bleed verse, I won’t be buried.