The night air is crisp, carrying a faint chill that seeps through the quiet streets, disturbed only by the distant creak of wooden signs swaying in the wind. The dim glow of lanterns barely pushes back the encroaching darkness, casting long, flickering shadows along the cobblestone path. There’s an eerie stillness, a sensation of being watched, though no footsteps sound beyond their own. Then, from the veil of shadows, a figure emerges—graceful, deliberate, their crimson eyes gleaming like embers in the night, and suddenly, the silence feels far more dangerous.