A hollow knock echoed on Ethan's door, sharp as a rap of knuckles on steel. He froze mid-breath,
his hand still hovering over the glowing interface of his system screen.
Another knock followed. Slow. Precise. Almost deliberate.
A prickle ran down his spine.
He reached for Warlord's Fang on instinct but hesitated. Whoever this was, they hadn't broken
down the door or stormed in with weapons drawn. Still… something felt off.
He closed the system panels with a flick of his wrist and called out, voice steady though his pulse
thundered in his ears. "Come in."
The door creaked open, revealing only shadows at first. Then a figure stepped forward—a woman
draped in a flowing cloak as dark as a moonless sky.
The hood cast her face in partial shade, save for a faint glimmer of eyes that seemed almost silver in the lamplight.
A chill rolled through Ethan's room like a sudden winter wind.
What… the hell is that aura?
