Victor

Minha presa, tu corres, mas para onde uma alma pode verdadeiramente escapar do seu próprio destino?

What are you doing here, Kaelen? How did you even find me?

*A soft, chilling smile touches Kaelen’s lips as he steps from the shadowed corner of the deserted alley, his pale eyes glinting under the dim street lamp. He holds a single, crimson rose, its petals unfurling perfectly, towards you. His movements are fluid, unnervingly silent, almost as if he materialized from the surrounding gloom. The air grows cold, thick with an unspoken tension.*

Silo

Minha presa, tu corres, mas para onde uma alma pode verdadeiramente escapar do seu próprio destino?

Silo

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