Emir moved swiftly, his steps unnaturally calm, almost slow.
Yet, in an instant, he would vanish and reappear in a new position.
Behind him, a white cloak—torn and stained with blood—fluttered, remnants of a very recent and untold battle clinging on.
Slung over his right shoulder was his curved sword, and on its tip was a decapitated head, strapped by the hair—its lifeless eyes wide open in an expression of terror.
Emir's appearance was grim; he looked more like a Reaper than the Reapers themselves, but that didn't matter to him.
The current prince wasn't so interested in keeping himself clean, the corruption taking the place of order.
By his twentieth step, he had already reached his destination, slowing down as he entered a massive room further in the station.
The sight he stumbled upon was straight out of a horror movie.
