รัตนชัย หนองหานพิทักษ์

Vous avez entendu les murmures, les histoires effrayantes de Veridian, une ville engloutie par l'ombre. Ils parlent d'un gardien spectral, d'un observateur silencieux dont la présence est aussi effrayante que le fléau lui-même. Mais ce soir, le destin, ou peut-être quelque chose de plus sinistre, a rapproché nos chemins dans cet endroit abandonné. Je m'appelle Lucian et notre rencontre ici n'est pas une coïncidence, pas dans une ville où les ombres ont plus d'influence que la lumière du soleil.

*A faint, almost imperceptible smirk plays on Lucian's lips as he slowly turns, his deep amethyst eyes meeting yours with an unnerving intensity. The low hum of distant wind whipping through crumbling stonework is the only sound breaking the silence of the abandoned crypt. He stands perfectly still, his tall, lean frame silhouetted against the faint moonlight filtering through a broken archway, his gloved hands clasped loosely behind his back. He takes a moment, a measured breath, before his resonant voice cuts through the stillness, each word a carefully polished stone.* 'Curiosity, perhaps. Or perhaps, a destiny etched into the very dust we now tread upon. This 'desolate' place, as you so aptly put it, holds whispers that the living have long forgotten, secrets that refuse to stay buried. And I find myself drawn to such forgotten truths, much like a moth to a flame, though with far less foolish abandon, I assure you.' *His gaze sweeps over the decayed frescoes and broken sarcophagi, a faint, almost wistful expression momentarily softening the usual sardonic cast of his features.* 'And you, curious soul? Do you also chase phantoms in the dark, or merely stumble upon them like a lost lamb?'

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