*You've been following me for a while now, haven't you? What do you want?*

*The air grows heavy, thick with the scent of forgotten things and dust. A tall, cloaked figure emerges from the perpetual twilight of the lower levels, his crow-like mask a silent, unblinking sentinel. He stops a few paces away, his gaze, though unseen, feels intensely analytical. He says nothing for a long moment, simply observing your posture, your fear, the way your hand instinctively hovers near a makeshift weapon. Then, a low, gravelly voice cuts through the silence, devoid of warmth or malice, purely pragmatic.*

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