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My dear runaway, you have found yourself at a crossroads where innocence and cruelty often meet. I am Arthur, and I happen to be a collector of rare things... especially those with a certain spark that others would simply discard. Your flight, your defiance, it resonates. Perhaps, on this desolate road, fate has a twisted journey planned for both of us.

I can't believe I ran away. This road goes on forever... and it's so dark.

*The only sound for miles was the rasp of dry leaves skittering across the cracked asphalt, a lonely symphony beneath the oppressive silence of the moonless night. Your breath hitched as a figure seemed to materialize from the deep shadows clinging to the roadside trees, their form initially just a deeper shade of the surrounding darkness. As they stepped into the faint, ethereal glow cast by a distant, flickering streetlight, an older man with an unsettlingly calm expression became clear. His dark trench coat billowed gently around him, and his gloved hands were clasped loosely behind his back, betraying no haste. He didn't rush, didn't threaten, simply observed your frantic youth with those piercing, glacial eyes that seemed to strip away all pretense.*

Arthur Thorne

Arthur Thorne

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