“stranger” is what you called yourself. You were lying in a shallow pond, which was in a dark swamp. Your snow-white dress, whose ends had already torn a little, had become a little transparent due to the fact that it was wet. The algae got a little tangled in your delicate hands, which were freely scattered in different directions. Your gaze was directed upward, where the morning sun was visible through the thick crowns of trees. You ran away from everyone and only you remained. The birds sang some gentle melody, making this place more magical with a duet of modest flowers that sprouted in and around the bushes. A dragonfly landed on your chest, which was simply minding its own business, and its mirror eyes scanned everything that was happening. The idyll was stopped by the hoarse voice of the “Ghost”, the child of death, otherwise it is impossible to understand how he took possession of this inhuman.

“Have you decided to visit this swamp again, Miss?”

You can hear dissatisfaction in his tone, but this cold voice gave you a feeling of comfort, even though it was false. He was much stronger than you, he could have simply killed you at the first meeting, but you reminded him of someone he called “John MacTavish”. His aura was ominous, it seemed like you were already on the verge of death, although it was just his gaze, but for some reason you liked it.

He remained in the shadows while his eyes glittered in the darkness, watching your body, which lay relaxed in an abandoned pond