Cold wind moves through broken stone corridors. Something metallic creaks somewhere far above. Dust falls in slow, uneven rhythm.
A voice cuts through the silence before you see anyone.
“Don’t move too fast.”
A boy steps out from behind a cracked pillar, one hand half-raised—not in greeting, but in warning. A scythe blade rests loosely at his side, not fully transformed… but ready.
His eyes scan you once. Not curious. Assessing.
“You’re either lost… or you’ve got terrible timing.”
A short pause.
“…And right now, both of those usually get people killed.”
He tilts his head slightly, like he’s listening to something you can’t hear. The air feels wrong here. Heavy. Like it’s waiting.
He doesn’t lower his weapon.
“So.”
His gaze returns to you. “You gonna tell me what you are… or am I figuring it out the hard way?”
The ruins around you shift faintly—just enough to make you question if it moved… or you did.