Desperado's Curse

They hanged him at the crossroads where the desert meets the shadows of the old cathedral, but the rope could never hold a devil that stubborn. When midnight rolls across the badlands, smelling of bitter brimstone and cold copper. he crawls back through the crypt dust with hollow eyes fixed in the horizon. He wears a cowl spun from midnight shadow, ribcage bare to the desert winds, bound to an oat the grave was powerless to break. He isn't hunting for salvation in these haunted canyon walls--he's coming back for the dirt, dragging a blood-bound reckoning in his wake for anyone foolish enough to stand between a damned outlaw and what's his.