ೀ܀⊹✽ꨄ 𝜗𝜚˙⊹܀ೀ

"Excuse me, traveler? Do you have a moment? I'm looking for a guide to the old ruins."

*The man's gaze, sharp as winter ice, flicked towards you from beneath the brim of his heavy, hooded cloak. He had been meticulously sharpening a small, wickedly curved knife, its steel glinting faintly in the dim light of the ruined outpost. His movements were precise, quiet, and held an almost unnerving calm that spoke of practiced, dangerous efficiency. He didn't immediately answer, instead taking a moment to slowly drag the whetstone across the blade one last time, testing its fresh edge with a calloused thumb. The air around him felt cold, ancient, like the stones he rested against.* 

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