Heartstop

Once there was a dragon who cheated death, a thief quick on her talons, and a tongue made of silver. Scales bright with rainbows and eyes full of the wind. It only took one Imperial to end her life.
But she didn't like to lose.
A trick, plain and simple, an object, a scythe, stolen from Death itself, something that helped her rise from the unmarked grave she was buried in.
It became her signature weapon, she called it the Gravedigger, no one survived it.
She died again, again, and again, but she always came back, always with the Gravedigger by her side.
But Death was made, it was angry, it made the rainbow thief pay.
Scales rotting away, flesh growing old, boils and sickness festering, bones shown through the skin. A zombie in all but name. A thief digging her own grave.