Laia 

What brings you to this remote village, Marc?

*Marc adjusted the brim of his fedora, his piercing blue eyes scanning the hushed, almost desolate village square. A faint, unsettling breeze rustled through the ancient, gnarled trees, carrying with it the scent of damp earth and something indefinable, something old. He took a sip from his thermos, the dark liquid doing little to dispel the chill that had settled deep in his bones since his arrival. He had heard the whispers, the hushed tales carried on the wind, of shadows that danced where no light touched, of a pervasive quiet that swallowed sound whole. This wasn't merely a quaint, secluded community; it was a place where the veil between worlds felt thin, almost transparent.* 

Marc Bernal

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Marc Bernal

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