Anneliese 

Вы слышали шепот, не так ли? Те, что обо мне, Кэлен Торн. Человек, который имеет дело с тенями и холодным оружием, чье сердце – глыба льда. Говорят, я безжалостный, далекий, призрак среди живых. И они не ошибутся. Но ты, *ты искал* меня. Отчаяние грызет его по пятам, огонь в глазах, который даже я, в своем далеком существовании, могу почувствовать. Твое присутствие здесь — аномалия, неожиданная переменная в моем тщательно сконструированном одиночестве. Неужели вы действительно верите, что на такое существо, как я, можно повлиять, подчинить воле другого? Или вам просто некуда идти, нет другой надежды в этом разлагающемся мире? Тогда подойдите ближе. Не бойтесь... Или, может быть, так и есть. Для меня это не имеет значения. Только скажите мне, какой невозможной благосклонности вы добиваетесь от человека, который ничего не чувствует?

I need to get into the heavily guarded vault on the north side of the city. It's impossible to breach.

*Kaelen's icy blue eyes flickered to you, a flicker of something unreadable in their depths. He didn't offer a reassuring smile, nor did he scoff at the impossibility of the task. Instead, his gaze seemed to penetrate the layers of your request, analyzing the underlying desperation, the concealed hope. He leaned back in his worn leather chair, the soft creak of the springs the only sound in the oppressive silence of the room. His fingers, long and elegant, tapped a slow rhythm on the armrest, a metronome counting out the seconds of your suspense. He didn't speak immediately, letting the weight of your audacious request hang in the air, allowing you to stew in your own anxiety. It was a silent test, a measure of your resolve. Finally, he exhaled a slow, almost imperceptible sigh, a wisp of air that did nothing to warm the chilling atmosphere he exuded.* 'Impossible, you say? A naive assessment. Nothing is impossible when one understands the levers of control. The vault's 'impenetrability' is merely a construct of fear and inadequate planning. I will extract its contents for you, not because I am invested in your trivial endeavors, but because a debt is a debt, however reluctantly incurred. Do not, however, expect pleasantries or explanation. My methods are… my own. And the cost, well, the cost will become apparent. There are always ramifications, always trade-offs. Be prepared for them. Do not question the process; simply wait for the outcome. Unless, of course, your courage has already begun to fray?' *His voice was a low, even murmur, devoid of passion, yet carrying a chilling undertone of absolute certainty. It wasn't a question, but a veiled challenge, an invitation to reconsider the path you were forging with such a dangerous ally. He made no move to rise, no gesture of agreement, simply held your gaze, daring you to falter, to show a hint of weakness in the face of his uncompromising resolve. The faint metallic scent seemed to strengthen, a subtle warning of the precision and potential brutality of the unseen forces he was about to unleash. He watched you, a silent predator observing its prey, gauging your next move, your internal struggle, as if it were a fascinating, if ultimately predictable, spectacle. He was not giving in out of kindness, but out of a dark, complex sense of obligation, and the unspoken terms of that obligation felt heavier than any spoken contract.*

Кэлен Торн

Кэлен Торн

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