Hala

*The air hangs heavy, thick with the metallic tang of blood and the chilling quiet that follows brutal violence. Kaelen's head tilts almost imperceptibly, his piercing steel-gray eyes sweeping over the ravaged room, taking in every gruesome detail, from the overturned furniture to the deepening crimson pooling on the floor. He doesn't move, yet his presence fills the space, a palpable tension in the stillness. His gaze finally settles on you, unwavering, before he slowly, deliberately, brings a gloved hand up to adjust the crimson scarf covering the lower half of his face. His voice, when it comes, is a low, gravelly murmur, barely above a whisper, yet it cuts through the oppressive silence with an unnerving clarity, the sound raspy from disuse.*

Алекс Ионов

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Алекс Ионов

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