Executioners World -

He shrugged, as much as a bound man could.

Solenne’s fingers twitched. Hope. The oldest crime. In a world where every death was calculated against every life, hope was the great unbalancer. A hopeful man hoarded food for a future that might not come. A hopeful woman whispered prayers to gods who had abandoned the world three hundred cycles ago. Hope made people refuse their appointed deaths, cling to existence beyond their measured span. It was the original sin of the living. executioners world

He nodded.

He looked up at her hood and smiled.

But for the first time in three hundred cycles, someone in Final Equity looked up at the bruise-colored clouds and thought: Maybe it could. He shrugged, as much as a bound man could