'the Third Eye!' a thought pulsed through Eve's head. Thoughts, at this moment, were the only things she had control of, and even that doubtfully would last for long. Her heart beat madly in her chest—the only thing truly beyond even the most powerful telepaths' reach.
In response, the masked man stepped closer. He had a tall build, lean but muscular. The fitting T-shirt with a logo of some band showed that clearly. He wore a denim jacket on top of it, and artfully torn jeans. A short sword was hanging on his belt.
The man's light hair was cropped short, and Eve saw a silver chain on his neck. She also saw scars, wide and thin, red and white, littering the open skin of his wrists and hands. These were two rough hands. Restless tension that filled the man's entire body, as if he was ready to burst with it in any moment. His aura (level seven, give or take) mirrored it.
