barb_exe
There are no saints in Ketterdam. Only the ones you make, and the ones you burn.
When Pekka Rollins unleashes his veiled weapon to silence those who cross him, the Barrel begins to whisper of a saint who walks like death itself.
Kaz Brekker should know better than to chase ghosts. Yet when Rollins's trap snaps shut, the hunter becomes the bait, and the game turns on something far crueler than coin.
Beneath the fog and fire of Third Harbor, two forces move in shadow. One born of vengeance, the other of faith long perverted.
And as each step draws them closer, bound by the city's hunger, only one truth will remain:
Even the drowned can learn to breathe.