Everyone dies, it's a fact of life, and death, but when Death himself came for me, he snagged my soul and shoved it into a foreign body. Leaving me with a broken and imperfect life. Rude, right?
Then they came for me. The Four Horsemen. They needed me, alive, to stop history from repeating. Meanwhile, my body wants more. I want more. Can we resist the pull and save the world? Or are we doomed as well?