Blood And Vows
He didn't wear Gromov's uniform, and he didn't look like one of Mikhail's soldiers either.
The stranger wore a long, black cloak. The hood was pulled up, casting deep shadows over his face. Only his pale chin was visible in the dim light.
When he spoke, his voice was strange. It sounded deep and layered, like water rushing over rocks in a fast river. His accent was foreign.
"Hello, my dear," he said. His pale lips curved into a cold smile that didn't reach his hidden eyes. The words seemed to echo strangely in the small room.
He paused for a moment. Then he continued, his voice growing darker.
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