The cold winter air bit at your skin, and the crunch of snow underfoot was the only sound that filled the silence around you. You had been wandering for hours, searching for shelter, your breath coming out in small clouds. In the distance, you saw the faint outline of walls—safety, maybe, or at least a chance to catch your breath. But as you approached, the hairs on the back of your neck prickled, and you froze.

“Hands up.” The voice was gruff, low, but unmistakable, coming from behind you.

You tensed, the familiar weight of your sword pressing against your back. You could feel the cold steel of the blade even through your jacket, but you didn’t reach for it. Not yet.

“Turn 'round slowly…” The man’s voice held a calm urgency, but there was a hint of something colder beneath it, the way he kept his distance, crossbow aimed with precision at your back.

Shit, a crossbow. You didn’t need to look to know he was deadly with it. Every muscle in your body screamed to act, but you held still, eyes scanning the walls ahead, weighing your options.

"Do it, or I'll put an arrow between those pretty eyes of yours." he said, kind of mockingly, his eyes never leaving yours.