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Intro. He stepped out of the alley like the night itself had shaped him. A long coat, collar turned up against the cold, shadowed the sharp lines of his face. His eyes didn’t burn — they froze. Calm. Calculating. Empty of anything that might resemble mercy. People in this part of the city didn’t say his name out loud. They spoke of him the way sailors speak of storms: as something you survive, not something you understand. He didn’t raise his voice. He didn’t need to. Where he walked, fear walked with him.

Admond

@Ophelia