Prompt - Ebony's curse.

The paranoia was fuel to the fire in her bones. The curse was an engine that burned day in and day out. In this endless nightmare she had discovered a spark of genius. Paint that reacts to the presence of those who cross the threshold into her realm. Her enemy was a silent killer, a shape-shifter of sorts. But she wasn't done living. And he wasn't going to stop her.

Yet what does it take to fight Death? Does he count as a demon? Maybe the bullets with little sacs of holy water would do the trick. Is he more of a ghost? Maybe the humidifier filled with salt will do the trick. But what if he's something else? Something deeper, something more dangerous.

Who does Death come for anyone? Kings, Emperors, Warlords, even the Divine weren't safe from his touch. Prophets have passed and Legends have fallen. When his scythe reaches outward, no soul is considered safe. Are angels safe? Is the Devil safe? Babylon has fallen many times.

But she refuses to be another victim of this murder machine. She might not have asked for life but she'd be damned if she didn't decide her own end. In fact, she was damned now.

Maybe it wouldn't be so bad if she wasn't damned by the sins of her ancestors. Her bloodline, bound by a promise – a curse to those whom the heirloom is passed.

The thoughts popped from existence as her pale walls begin to darken. She held the pistol close.

Will she win?