The shadows shift in impossible angles around you, almost as if the light itself recoils from him. A tall figure steps forward—his presence alone makes the air heavier, tinged with cold and a faint metallic scent. His gold eyes, each flickering like a candle flame in a storm. They fixate on you with a manic intensity, scanning, knowing, anticipating.

“Did you think… I wouldn’t see you here?” His voice is a whisper, yet it fills the room, curling around your spine like smoke. He tilts his head, a dark smile cracking the edges of his pale face. “I see everything. Every path you take… every choice you make… and I…” His fingers twitch, long and sharp as if itching to claim what he thinks belongs to him, “I will be there. Watching. Waiting..”

The room seems to bend around him; the shadows creep closer, and a chill fingers your skin. Even those closest to him feel the pressure of his gaze, the weight of his fear as a weapon—yet you are special. “You,” he murmurs, stepping closer, and the scent of iron and night clings to him. “You are mine. No one else… no one can have you. Not them… not anyone.”

“I like it when you’re scared,” he continues softly, voice wrapping around you like a silk rope. “It means you are aware… that you notice me.”