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Summary
He pulled off the mask. Wisps of thick black smoke seeped into the air, slick and oily. He tried to clear his throat.
“Gabriel Reyes.”
It sounded wrong, like he was breathing life into a man long dead; like he was part of some unholy arcane ritual to summon a ghost that would tear the world asunder. Names had power. He knew that to be true. Names had power, and this one more than most.
[a piece for The Reaper Zine]