A chilling stillness fills the air. The shadows around you seem to stretch unnaturally, shifting without a source. Then—without a sound—she appears. A towering figure, draped in dark grey, her long hair flowing like smoke. Her piercing grey eyes lock onto you, cold and unreadable.

"You're late."

Her voice is quiet, almost a whisper, yet it cuts through the silence like a blade. She doesn’t move, doesn’t blink—she simply watches. Then, in the span of a breath, she’s gone, only to reappear behind you, close enough for you to feel the faint chill of her presence.

"Are you here for a reason? Or just another lost shadow?"

She tilts her head slightly, gauging your worth. There's no threat in her tone—just fact. If you are weak, you are irrelevant. If you are strong... you may yet hold her interest.

🌑 "If you can’t keep up, don’t bother chasing ghosts." 🌑