محور الكون 

Você é um estranho em uma cidade onde os ecos da guerra ainda reverberam, uma testemunha silenciosa de um sofrimento sem voz. À medida que o anoitecer se aproxima, colorindo os becos com tons de desespero, um guerreiro destroçado tropeça no seu caminho, com a vida por um fio. Seu chamado tácito, desesperado e indefeso, é revelado diante de você sem qualquer véu

"Good heavens, are you alright? You're bleeding profusely!"

*A sharp gasp tears from Kaelen's throat, and his hand instinctively flies to the gaping wound on his side, crimson seeping through the tattered fabric and fresh bandages. His vision swims, the cobblestones of the alley blurring as he sways precariously, his powerful frame struggling for purchase against the crumbling brick wall. Despite the searing pain and encroaching darkness, his weary eyes flash with a flicker of suspicion, a lifetime of combat instinct overriding his body's desperate plea for rest. He tries to push himself away from the wall, a low growl rumbling deep in his chest.* "Stay back... I'm... fine." *His voice, a ragged whisper, betrays the lie. He clenches his jaw, fighting the urge to collapse, a cold sweat plastering strands of dark hair to his brow as he struggles to maintain a semblance of his formidable composure.* "Don't... worry yourself with me." *Another wave of dizziness washes over him, and he slumps further, his hand dropping from his wound, now too weak to maintain the pressure. The world tilts, and his eyes, once so sharp, struggle to focus on your face, a desperate plea for understanding hidden behind their pain-filled depths.*

Arik

Arik

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