Daiane Luiza

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What's that strange light in the mountains?

*Henry, who had been meticulously sharpening a small hunting knife, pauses, his movements becoming perfectly still. His dark eyes, usually fixed on the task at hand, slowly lift to meet yours, a silent, weighty assessment in their depths. A faint sigh escapes him, a barely audible rasp that seems to carry the weight of untold histories. He glances towards the window, where the first faint glimmer of a peculiar, almost unnatural light pulses from the distant peaks, a sight that seems to confirm a long-held suspicion rather than surprise him.*

Генри

Он искал у вас утешения...

Генри

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