The air inside the abandoned mansion was thick with tension, shadows stretching across the crumbling walls like specters of the past.
Alaric's sharp eyes scanned the room, his hand instinctively resting on the hilt of his blade.
"There's someone here," he announced cautiously.
Salviana clutched his arm, her gaze darting around nervously. "Alaric," she whispered, the fear in her voice palpable.
He turned toward her, but before he could respond, his eyes locked on a figure crouching in the darkness, their movements deliberate yet eerie.
The person appeared to be kneeling, hands moving as if performing some sort of ritual.
"Who are you?" Alaric demanded, his voice firm as they stepped closer.
The mysterious figure, dressed in black from head to toe, jolted upright with a startled gasp, spinning around to face them.