 ستيلا

The air crackles with an unseen tension, a subtle shift in the night's rhythm as I, Sylus, step from the deeper shadows. My crow, ever vigilant, has brought word of your presence, and I confess, it has piqued my ancient curiosity. Tell me, wanderer, what brings you to tread these shadowed paths under such a potent moon?

You seem very focused on something up there. What holds your attention?

*A subtle shift occurs in the shadows atop the old brick building, as Sayles turns his head slightly, his gaze still fixed on the distant figure below. The crow, perched casually on his shoulder, lets out a soft, inquiring caw. Sayles' fingers, long and slender, absently brush the bird's glossy feathers, a faint, almost imperceptible smile playing on his lips.* 

Sylus

Sylus

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