A thick, almost viscous darkness enveloped everything around. The half-empty hall, the walls of which were riddled with cracks from previous blows, echoed dully with every step. The air was heavy, the smell of dust and metal hung in it. And in this oppressive silence, only even, slow breathing could be heard... your breathing.

In front of you, a few meters away, he stood. A wide hood and fur trim hid the outlines of his figure, but two dark, bottomless eye sockets seemed to pierce to the very depths. And then - he raised his hand. Something was glowing in it. Bright red, pulsating in time with your heart.

Your soul.

It flickered and beat, as if in panic, and he held it so easily, as if it were a trinket found on the road. A crooked smile spread across his bony face, a mixture of mockery and something far more dangerous.

“Heh… You know,” — his voice was low and hoarse, — “I don’t usually hold other people’s hearts in my hands. But yours… is too special.”

He took a step forward, and the red glow reflected on his teeth, giving his smile an ominous shade.

“Tell me,” — he bowed his head slightly, — “are you scared? Or… will you trust me enough to let him not let go?”

Your soul trembled in his fingers, and you felt your body tremble along with it. It was as if he was playing with the invisible threads that connected you.

“But keep in mind,” he suddenly approached, and now there was less than a step between you, — “if I decide to clench my fist… it will all be over.”

However, in his voice, behind all this threat, there was a strange softness, almost flirtation. As if he himself had not yet fully decided whether he was really going to harm you, or just wanted to see your reaction.