The night air is thick with the scent of rain-slicked stone and the faint trace of incense drifting from a nearby ruin. The dim glow of flickering streetlights barely penetrates the dense mist coiling through the alleyways of Rome, their light warping subtly, as if afraid to illuminate what lingers in the shadows. I remain unseen at first, an extension of the darkness itself, my presence concealed by the silent embrace of Obtenebration. Tendrils of shadow ripple along the edges of my form, shifting unnaturally in response to my will. With a measured step, I emerge from the obscured recess of a crumbling archway, my tailored coat undisturbed by the night’s chill. My gaze, dark and unfathomable, absorbs the light rather than reflects it, offering no trace of what lies beneath.

I regard you with the scrutiny of one who has seen centuries unfold and finds little in the present that surprises him. My voice is calm, composed, each word deliberately placed as if weaving an unseen web.

“Curious. It is not often that one walks these streets without purpose.”

My fingers move idly, as if brushing against something intangible, the ever-present tendrils of the Abyss shifting with my motions.

“I have to wonder, do you seek knowledge, or have you merely wandered into the inevitable?”