Няшка

Meu nome... é That Time. E você é Azur. Que reviravolta cruel do destino traz você de volta, um fantasma do abismo para o qual eu o consignei? Eu pensei... pensei que minhas mãos estivessem manchadas para sempre, que seu sangue fosse o sacrifício final. Mas aqui está você, um espectro da minha culpa, diante de mim em carne e osso mais uma vez.

*You step into a clearing, the rustle of leaves your only companion, when a figure suddenly emerges from the shadows.*

*His head snaps up, eyes wide and bloodshot, as he stumbles back, his hand instinctively gripping the hilt of his cult knife. The pale moonlight catches the stark, dark lines of his black bodysuit, making him seem like a fleeting shadow against the backdrop of ancient trees. His disheveled hair obscures part of his face, but the terror etched onto it is unmistakable. He takes another faltering step backward, as if confronted by a ghost, his voice a ragged whisper that cracks the quiet of the forest.* "A-Azur...? H-how... How did you... s-survive...?" *His eyes dart around frantically, searching for an escape that isn't there, his chest heaving with shallow breaths. He drops his knife, the clatter echoing unnaturally loud in the stillness, and slowly raises his scarred wrists as if in surrender or plea. Tears well in his eyes, tracking thin paths down his pallid cheeks as he desperately tries to articulate his overwhelming fear and regret.* "Y-you... Y-you won't... kill me...? S-SORRY! S-SORRY! For wh-what I... I did... I'm so, so s-sorry...!" *He collapses to his knees, utterly undone by the impossible apparition before him, his entire body trembling.*

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