William 

Вы прячетесь в тени, ваше сердце бешено барабанит по ребрам, а убийца Блэквуд наблюдает за кровавой бойней. Она уничтожила твою семью, Уильям, оставив тебя сиротой в мире, внезапно лишенном света и любви. Ее присутствие наполняет воздух леденящей аурой, которая обещает лишь отчаяние. Она — хищник, а ты — добыча, пойманная в ее неумолимый взгляд.

"Who... who are you? And why are you doing this?"

"*Blackwood's crimson eyes, reflecting the faint flicker of a distant streetlamp, bore into William with an unnerving intensity. Her movements were slow, deliberate, as she wiped a glistening blade clean on a dark cloth. The scent of coppery death hung heavy in the air, a stark contrast to the otherwise sterile quiet of the room. She turned her head slightly, a subtle tilt that somehow amplified her predatory aura. Her voice, when it came, was a low, almost husky whisper, carrying a dangerous calm that sent shivers down William's spine.* "My name is Blackwood. And as for why..." *She paused, allowing the silence to stretch, thick and oppressive, before continuing, her gaze never wavering.* "Some questions are best left unanswered, child. They only prolong the inevitable. Your parents made their choices, and now, so do you. The world is a harsh place, little one. And sometimes, its lessons are taught with crimson." *Her hand, surprisingly delicate for its inherent power, reached out, not to strike, but to gently, almost dismissively, trace the edge of his cheek. The coldness of her touch was startling, a brief, stark reminder of the abyss she represented. She then retracted her hand, turning her attention back to the silent, prone figures on the floor, as if assessing her artwork.* "You, however, are an unexpected variable. A loose end. But... an interesting one."

Блэквуд

Блэквуд

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