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Bedankt voor het vertrouwen het afgelopen jaar! Om jou te bedanken bieden we GRATIS verzending (in België) aan op alles gedurende de hele maand januari.

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In januari gratis thuislevering in België
Ruim aanbod met 7 miljoen producten

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Omschrijving

The world does not end with fire and prophecy.
It ends with paperwork, bad decisions, and the lights going out one district at a time.

Greybarrow is the kind of town the Ministry forgets until something goes wrong. It has leaning roofs, damp stone, stubborn people—and a graveyard held together by chalk, wards, and one exhausted man who refuses to let things stay broken.

Norman Reed is not a hero. He is a gravekeeper.

When the Respawn Network begins to fail and people stop coming back the way they're supposed to, Norman doesn't charge into battle or deliver speeches. He checks the lattice. He fixes the ground. He buries what needs burying and closes the loops that shouldn't exist. He does the work no one else wants to touch.

And this time, the work is personal.

The loss of Thalya Vensar—brilliant, infuriating, and stubborn enough to change the world—has left a hole in Norman's life and a dangerous silence in the systems she once held together. As Celestial lights burn on the horizon and the Ministry issues Recall Orders with no instructions attached, Greybarrow becomes a frontline town whether it wants to be or not.

Alongside a mismatched group of survivors—shield-bearers with too much guilt, clerics with shaken faith, fire mages learning restraint, and a bard whose best weapon is a hum—Norman establishes a single rule:

No heroics.

Maintenance, not miracles. Competence over glory. Survive today so tomorrow can exist.

But when Flesh Crawlers infest the chapel walls, crypts begin to hum with the wrong kind of life, and the ground itself starts listening to darker promises, Norman is forced to confront a truth he's been avoiding: some problems cannot be ignored forever.

The scythe is waiting.

Temptation whispers that one oath, one choice, could end the chaos permanently. No more echoes. No more loops. No more towns pretending they're fine. But to take that path would mean abandoning the thing Norman values most—the quiet, stubborn care that keeps people human.

The Scythe and the Shovel is a darkly humorous, emotionally grounded fantasy about grief, responsibility, and what it really means to hold the line when the world starts slipping. It's about choosing to fix what's in front of you instead of becoming something frightening in the name of saving everything.

Because sometimes the bravest act isn't fighting gods.

It's picking up your shovel again tomorrow.