The clock ticked. A slow, deliberate sound that marked each passing second with quiet authority.
Cassius stood still, tall and unyielding, a shadow carved into the dimly lit chamber. Darkness clung to him, not just in the garments he wore, but in the very air around him, swallowing everything except for the one thing it could not dim.
His eyes -vivid, unholy red— gleamed like fresh-spilled blood. The only color in the void he carried, the only light in the suffocating weight of his presence.
People shrank beneath his gaze, shifting, averting their eyes, as if afraid that meeting them for too long might invite something worse than fear.
Cassius did not move. He did not need to. The room bent to his silence, to his stillness.
And he watched.
And he waited.
