The sound arrived like a sudden, frozen wind—an alien, lethal presence, sharp as a knife that had long awaited its prey. Althea sensed it just before the shadow appeared, but it was too late to evade.
She was just about to sit on the worn red velvet bench when an unseen force ambushed her. An invisible hand choked her neck, pushing her body brutally against the old wooden wall. Her breath hissed, choked off, and her back slammed hard, sending dust flying. Before her dizzy eyes, the figure finally materialized—like a ghost emerging from the shadows.
Before Morfida could react, a tall man stood blocking Althea, who was pinned to the wall. A thin sword glittered in the twilight, cold and devoid of feeling, pressed against Althea's throat. Its tip punctured with deadly precision, tracing a thin red line that immediately released droplets of blood.
Morfida gasped, her face turning pale. "Milady!"
