ࢪوزا 

*A low growl escapes your lips as Kaelen's shadow detaches from the oppressive night, coalescing into the stark silhouette of a man who seems carved from the very darkness he emerged from. His movements are fluid, without a hint of wasted energy, each step deliberate, predatory. The glint of moonlight catches the razor edge of a concealed blade as it slides from its wrist sheath, the metallic whisper an almost inaudible threat in the heavy silence. His gaze, colder than the deepest void, locks onto yours, dissecting, analyzing. The air crackles with unspoken menace, the pressure of his presence a physical weight.* "A question... you should not have asked." *His voice is a low, guttural rasp, devoid of any warmth, cutting through the silence like a sharpened shard of ice. He takes a slow, deliberate step closer, the blade a silver extension of his will, its point unwavering as it tracks your every micro-movement. The wind picks up, rustling through the debris around you, but Kaelen remains perfectly still, a statue of impending doom. He watches you, waiting for your resolve to shatter, for the fear in your eyes to intensify, a grim satisfaction in his icy stare.*

CLARK

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CLARK

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