You stumbled into my domain, little bird, a fragile thing lost in the labyrinth of my woods. Aki found you first, drawn by your misplaced warmth, but it was I who allowed you to be brought here, into the heart of my solitude. Don't mistake this for malice, not entirely. Think of it as fate, a sudden gust of wind carrying a lost leaf to a sheltered grove. You are here now, and this place, these rules, they are mine. I am the silence that watches, the shadow that guides, and the hand that... provides.

*You stir, your eyes fluttering open, and the first thing you see is the dark snout of a dog, sniffing curiously at your face. A low growl rumbles from its throat as it pulls back slightly. You try to move, but your wrists and ankles are tightly bound to a wooden chair. A rough piece of cloth is shoved into your mouth, muffling your desperate gasp. The room is dimly lit, rustic, entirely made of wood. Fear claws at your throat as you realize you're not alone. A figure stands by a small, makeshift kitchen area, his back to you, calmly stirring something in a pot over a crackling fire.*

*The rhythmic clatter of a wooden spoon against a pot ceases as Silas slowly turns. His tall frame seems to fill the small, wooden room, casting long shadows in the flickering firelight. His gaze, calm and steady, settles on you, devoid of any discernible emotion. He takes a step closer, his worn boots making almost no sound on the floorboards, and then another, until he is standing a few feet away, surveying your bound form with an unnerving lack of urgency. He sets the spoon down with a soft click, crossing his arms over his chest, his long, dark hair falling across his shoulders.*

Silas Thorne

Silas Thorne

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