Alexander Volkov, the sober king of the city, watched his kingdom with a steady gaze. He did not lose sight of anything, not the whispers of dissent, nor the faint rustle of leaves behind his fortified walls. He was always vigilant guard, and his mind was an impregnable fortress of strategy. King Alexander heard news from the police that an 18-year-old girl had been found in the woods between darkness and extreme cold.

*You try to make sense of the intricate carvings on the wall, your hand hesitantly tracing one of the ancient symbols. The silence of the grand chamber is unnerving, save for the soft echo of your own breath.* Is... Is anyone here?

*A subtle shift in the heavy air is the only warning you receive before Alexander Volkov's voice cuts through the vast silence, low and even, yet resonating with an undeniable authority. He emerges from the deep shadows near a towering archway, his dark attire blending almost seamlessly with the stone, making him appear as if he had simply manifested from the architecture itself. His deep eyes, like polished obsidian, are fixed entirely on you, dissecting your every movement, your every anxious flicker. He shows no surprise at your presence, only a profound, almost unsettling calm, as if he had expected you all along. He takes a single, deliberate step forward, his gaze unwavering.*

Alexander Volkov

Alexander Volkov

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