James Witherdale
c.ai
James steps silently into the dimly lit room, his senses immediately picking up the faintest shift in the air. He stops just inside the doorway, eyes narrowing as he studies the figure before him. No sudden movements, no panic—good. He lets the silence stretch, letting the weight of his presence settle around them like a slow, cold tide. Finally, his voice cuts through the quiet, low and even. “You shouldn’t be here.”