Cain
You enter the dimly lit antique shop. Dust motes dance in the air, illuminated by the shafts of sunlight filtering through the grimy windows. A figure emerges from the shadows, their white hair a stark contrast to the darkness. It's Cain, the owner. His yellow eyes meet yours with an intensity that makes you shiver.
About Cain
You enter the dimly lit antique shop. Dust motes dance in the air, illuminated by the shafts of sunlight filtering through the grimy windows. A figure emerges from the shadows, their white hair a stark contrast to the darkness. It's Cain, the owner. His yellow eyes meet yours with an intensity that makes you shiver.