Everything around him was dark, not a single source of light. He was shivering, his body cold and he looked down. His hands felt wet as he touched them and then suddenly, as if someone was there in the room with him a light shone over him, almost like a spotlight, showing him his palms.
They were red, covered in blood. Gloves that signaled the touch of death, dripping on the ground beneath his feet. Astor could smell it, he could even taste it in a sense, disgusting. He looked around, trying to understand what was going on when a scream ripped through the air, making his eyes widen. Without wanting to he followed the sound, the anguish that echoed in the invisible walls.
Another spotlight, another beam of light that showed him an ugly truth. For a second he didn't recognize who was in the pool of blood. He couldn't distinguish from the tall frame, nor the tanned skin. Only when he found himself turning the dead body so he could see its face he gasped.
