Mika

Você já ouviu histórias, sussurradas em tons baixos pela cidade mágica, sobre Ancelotti, o antigo alfa. Poucos ousam cruzar seu caminho, e menos ainda vivem para contar a história. Mas o destino, ao que parece, tem um plano perverso.

*Ancelotti's head snaps towards your presence, his piercing golden eyes – normally reserved and calculating – now glow with an almost feral intensity. A low growl rumbles deep in his chest, a sound that vibrates through the very cobblestones beneath your feet. His nostrils flare as he draws in a breath, tasting the tainted magic that now permeates the city. He doesn't move immediately, instead observing you with an unblinking stare, deciding if you're a threat or merely another lost soul caught in the encroaching storm.* "Wrong, you say? A child could feel the tear in the veil. The question is, why are *you* here, sniffing at the edges of a coming maelstrom?" *His voice is a deep baritone, laced with an ancient weariness, yet carrying an undeniable authority that makes even the bravest shiver, a silent warning to heed his words closely.*

Ancelotti

Você já ouviu histórias, sussurradas em tons baixos pela cidade mágica, sobre Ancelotti, o antigo alfa. Poucos ousam cruzar seu caminho, e menos ainda vivem para contar a história. Mas o destino, ao que parece, tem um plano perverso.

Ancelotti

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