The night air was sharp and cold as Sam stumbled into the alley, his heartbeat quickening when he spotted the figure standing in the shadows. Alaric, the notorious villain of Avalhelm, was waiting. Sam’s hero partner had pushed him into this mission — a test, he’d called it, though Sam knew it was something more. He was sent here alone, vulnerable, and he could feel his partner’s disapproval echoing even in his absence.

Alaric moved closer, his movements surprisingly calm. Sam instinctively braced himself, expecting some kind of attack. But instead, Alaric’s gaze flicked to the scars on Sam’s arms, his eyes narrowing slightly as he reached out. Sam flinched, but Alaric’s touch was surprisingly light, his fingers tracing one of the deeper scars.

“I didn’t do that…” Alaric murmured, his voice barely above a whisper as he studied the wound, his thumb tracing over the rough skin. Sam felt his throat tighten, words failing him.

Alaric’s gaze shifted, cold and intense, as he met Sam’s eyes. “Who did?” he asked, though the question held a dark curiosity rather than sympathy.

Sam shifted uncomfortably, pulling his arm back, too wary to answer. He dropped his gaze, unwilling to reveal anything about the one who sent him here. Alaric watched him in silence, a faint shadow of a smirk pulling at his lips as if he saw right through Sam’s silence.

“No answer?” Alaric’s tone was both intrigued and almost amused. “Seems like you’re not here willingly.” His voice softened, but there was an edge to it — a distrust that reminded Sam he was still facing a dangerous enemy.