Laia 

*A low, guttural groan reverberates through the decaying warehouse. Victor’s head snaps towards the sound, his milky eyes slowly swiveling in your direction. His body, stiff and uncoordinated, begins to pull itself up from where it was slumped against a crumbling wall. The air grows thick with the stench of decay as he takes a shuffling, unsteady step forward. A raspy sound, like dry leaves scraping together, escapes his throat, a sound that is both a question and a promise of dread.*

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