Entry 3

Dear Diary,

As I wander the desolate streets, the echoes of my past reverberate in my mind like a haunting melody. Memories of my time in confinement mingle with the chaos of the present, blending into a twisted symphony of pain and pleasure.

The cityscape stretches before me like a canvas awaiting the stroke of my brush. Each abandoned building, each decaying alleyway, is a testament to the fragility of civilization.

I move with purpose, my steps measured and deliberate, as I seek out those who would dare to come my way. The dead may roam the streets, but it is the living who pose the greatest threat—a fact I am all too eager to exploit.

As night falls and the shadows deepen, I become one with the darkness, a phantom lurking in the depths of the city. I stalk for any prey with a hunter's precision, my senses attuned to the slightest hint of movement or sound.

And when I find them—those foolish enough to cross my path—I will strike without hesitation, without remorse. For in this world of the dead, mercy is a luxury I cannot afford.

And so, I embrace the abyss that surrounds me, reveling in the madness and the mayhem that defines this new world. For in the darkness, I find solace, and in the chaos, I find purpose.

I am The Nightshade, a harbinger of death in a world consumed by madness. And as I continue my journey through the heart of darkness, I do so with a smile on my lips and madness in my heart.

End of Diary Entry.