The Conscience of the Executioner

Armon stood on the seashore of the Onyx Sea, black mask dangling from a calloused hand. He thought he'd seen everything, but Armon now looked at the world in a different light. An executioner executes, he though. He even felt he had a... Sort of acuity for death, when most executioners became desensitized to it.

But what do I do now? My own conscience undermines me and the dagger of this encounter has purged my heart. Could there be more to this monotonous life?

It all changed with the Resurrection of his last "client." His pernicious glare rent my heart.