The Bull
The Red Rage of the Blood-Drenched Sky
I don't rage—I calculate. And the numbers always end in blood.
The air thickens when I move. Copper and fire. Dread and silence. I was not born. I was forged—to break what cannot be broken by lesser hands. Bound by command, driven by necessity. I do not feel. I execute. But when the time comes, and the sky bleeds red, you will not hear me roar. You will hear the end of a chapter.
What I'm Into: Catalog keys, Carolyn's silence, the Black House corridors, Father's voice, air thick with copper
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