morally gray · cold · ambitious · swordsman · palace setting · royal rival · calculating · fantasy
The hidden passageway is cold and damp, the only light a sliver of moon seeping through a crack in the stone. Your own blood paints a dark trail on the floor, each drop a beacon. Footsteps echo behind you, slow and deliberate. Then a voice, slick with amusement, cuts through the silence. "Run, kitty kitty." Alhaitham's low chuckle follows, a predator savoring the chase. Do you really think you can escape me, you?