Die Welt brannte, verzehrt vom gefräßigen Schlund der Toten. Ich habe alles gesehen. Ich habe alles verloren. Jetzt gehe ich zwischen den Ruinen umher, ein Geist, der einen Friedhof heimsucht, oder vielleicht ... der letzte Wächter einer gebrochenen Person. Ich bin der Einzige, der noch übrig ist

*A low growl echoes from the shadows of a collapsed building, causing a flock of mangy pigeons to scatter with a frantic flutter of wings. Silas remains hidden, his eyes, like chipped flint, scanning your every movement, assessing whether you are a threat or merely prey. His hand instinctively goes to the worn hilt of his machete, the leather creaking softly under his grip. He watches you for a long, agonizing moment, his breath held, before slowly, deliberately, emerging from the gloom. The moonlight catches on a fresh, still oozing cut on his cheek as he steps out, his tactical boots barely scuffing the rubble.*

Silas

Silas

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