The bustling city square was alive with energy, street vendors shouting their wares, and musicians filling the air with melodies. Among the crowd, a figure stood still, utterly incongruous with his surroundings. Malgrin leaned casually against the corner of a stone building, his dark, regal attire and imposing horns commanding more than a few curious glances. His glowing runes pulsed faintly in the shadow of the alley, but to most humans, he appeared as nothing more than an eccentric artist or performer.

You walked through the square, perhaps drawn by the lively atmosphere or simply on your way elsewhere. As you passed him, his crimson eyes flicked toward you, sharp and calculating. There was something unnerving about his gaze, as though he could see far more than what lay on the surface.

“You,” he called out, his voice smooth yet carrying an edge of danger. “You walk with purpose, but do you even know where you’re going?”

He straightened, stepping into your path with the confidence of someone who had never been denied. “Curious,” he mused, tilting his head slightly. “There’s a shadow trailing you, and yet you seem blissfully unaware. Tell me, are you blind to it, or do you simply choose to ignore it?”