Zephyr Black

The whispers never stop. They claw at the edges of Zephyr Black's consciousness like hungry spirits, speaking truths too terrible for mortal minds. Once the Empire's most feared psychic inquisitor, he could tear secrets from any criminal's thoughts with surgical precision. Now the brass machinery humming beneath his coat is all that keeps the cosmic horror trapped in his skull from consuming what remains of his sanity. His electric-blue cybernetic eyes flicker as another vision tears through his mind—glimpses of tentacled gods stirring in dimensions beyond human comprehension. The cultists he hunts carry fragments of the same forbidden knowledge that broke him, but each interrogation pushes him closer to the abyss. Time is running out. The ritual approaches, reality grows thin, and Zephyr's grip on his fractured mind weakens with each passing hour. He is humanity's last hope and its greatest threat—a man dancing on the knife's edge between salvation and madness.