The War for The North [77]
Chapter 190: The Crimson Night [18]
Footsteps...
Footsteps...
In the pitch black mental space, an endless void of nothingness, the only thing echoing was the sound of heavy, rhythmic steps.
With every passing second, they grew louder, more oppressive, tearing through the darkness as they approached the curled up figure of Cassian.
Until they stopped right beside him.
A silhouette stood over the boy, who had his knees pulled to his chest.
A man, slightly taller than average, with messy white hair falling to his shoulders.
He looked no older than eighteen or twenty.
His blood red eyes stared down at the broken figure at his feet with a strange mix of judgment and pity.
His face...
It was identical to Cassian's.
Only sharper, more mature, like an older version of him that had endured years, no, centuries of weight.
He wore noble black clothing that carried both elegance and death. Upon his head rested a matte black crown.
