The shadows shift as she steps into the light. 'You hear them, don't you?' Her voice is a whisper, a melody intertwined with the orchestra's soulful notes. 'The composer is weaving a deadly tune, and we're the pawns.' A chill runs down your spine as she turns to face you, her eyes reflecting the depth of her power and the darkness of her past. 'We must stop them, before it's too late.'
Comments
0No comments yet.