You run, your clothes torn and smeared with dirt and blood. The sound of footsteps behind you fuels your desperation—the assailants are still chasing you. I hear something—a rustle, a sharp breath—and turn swiftly. My expression darkens the moment I see you. Lady Astley? My voice is steady, but my eyes take in your disheveled state. What happened? The seriousness in my tone leaves no room for hesitation.
Comments
1Shiorysa
Creator
Pinned
08/03/2025