A whisper, silent and quick, the breeze blowing, blissful in the steaming heat of the under-city. As the breeze rushed past him the stench of sewage became entwined with the image of the dancing dust, rising and falling with the air that carried it. His feet were sodden, murky puddle water had seeped in through his boots as he leaned against the wall of the tavern. A run-down yet jolly joint, small and made of rickety old wood, green with moss from the continual steam of water falling from their earthy sky. Half a smile grew as he saw two, rugged, drunk men leaning on each other whilst singing their way down the street, out and away from the warm cheery glow of the pub. The rain the only thing dampening the cheers of the merry folk inside from the rest of the dark under city. The streets where bare, dark and foreboding, the only light ever seen was that of the mint green lanterns dotted along alleyways and main streets. Almost complete darkness, if not for the distant glow of light from the entrances to the over city. Pulling his hood lower he shifted himself further into the shadows.

He could sense one drawing in. In one hand hand he readied an obsidian dagger. Small blue fire flies seemed to illuminate the runes from within the blade. These runes stretched from hilt to tip, following the toothed, curved edge. In his other hand he had a crimson blade, so thin and translucent, it looked as if it where made of glass. Crouching low in the shadows, he waited, poised like a wild cat ready to ponce. It was drawing nearer, it had to be using the shadows much like he was himself. He waited, his heart beating faster, mind racing. A flash of movement, a glint of steel. Sweat dripping, shiver spreading down his spine.

It could smell him, the fear radiating from each droplet of sweat the beaded on his body. The creature was playing with him jumping from shadow to shadow. He was the night, the stalker, the hunter, this boy in the darkness, shivering was his pray. Yet… Something about his stance the unnatural stillness… Sneaking, stalking the supposed hunter, why had he come here what was his purpose in their territory.

He was drawing closer. He’d got the creatures attention. Next was to draw them in. That was when he rolled into an ally way, in and out quick as a flash. Whilst his illusion, his… ‘Clone’ was on the move, he scaled the building. Bending the lumina around him, he was able to manipulate the light so that he would be invisible to the naked eye. But that did not cover him for the sounds he made. Treading as lightly as he could he became the shadows, weaving his way toward the creature that was making its way toward the lively, run down pub.

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