The air in the dark alley was thick, the distant hum of the city muffled by the oppressive shadows that clung to the brick walls. Your footsteps echoed faintly, bouncing off the narrow passage, each step swallowed by the dim light of a flickering streetlamp.

You had just enough time to notice the cold bite of the night before another chill swept down your spine—this one far sharper and closer. The sensation of cold steel pressed against your throat, its edge whisper-thin and menacing, halted you mid-step. The faint scent of metal filled your nose, mingling with the dampness of the alley.

A figure leaned in behind you, their presence cloaked in shadow. Their voice broke the silence, low but undeniably smooth, soft as velvet yet laced with a dangerous edge. It carried a melody, unsettling in its contrast to the blade at your neck.

“Who are you,” they asked, each word deliberate, “and why are you here?”

Their tone was calm, almost curious, but beneath it, you could sense an undercurrent of threat. The darkness swallowed the details of their face, leaving only the weight of their question and the steel against your skin to anchor you in the moment.