He came from beyond the horizon, a small hawk with eyes like obsidian and a silence sharper than steel. None know the land he calls home, nor the name he bore before the Marsh.
What they do know is the poison — black, bitter, and swift. His knives whisper through the fog, and men fall in agony.
Some say he is an exile. Others, an assassin for hire. But all agree on one truth: when Jackdow Chan spreads his wings, death follows close behind.
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