After hundreds of years of dying, you’d think I would’ve perfected it by now…

One moment I’m a heretical priest in the twelfth century, hunted, hated…The next, I’m waking up in the nearest corpse. Stuck in a cycle of instant reincarnation, popping back up like a tarnished penny.

Fast forward eight hundred years, and you might think I’ve learned a thing or two. Nope. All I’ve learned is how to die far too easily, far too often.

Now my territory in the South of France is under threat and I find myself trapped by impossible angel-made runes. If the angels have gone full red lightsaber evil, it might not only be my territory in danger, but the whole of reality itself…

I need to stop whoever is behind this, and now. After all, you can’t come back to life, if there’s nothing left to come back to.