In front of the exit stood the faceless wraith, crimson hair flowing in the air, a breeze wafting through the sanctuary from an unknown source. His mask stared into its target’s eyes, wondering what business it had here. Was he bent on killing him? It’s likely he wanted him dead, having searched for the man without a face. It wouldn’t matter what his motives were, though, for this man would be dead soon, given things went his way. However, one thing he’d learned through his years of training: Never underestimate anyone. He didn’t intend to let this man to leave alive, but that didn’t cloud his judgment. The mere fact this guy knew of his existence made him a threat.

The two strangers gazed into each other, gears in their minds turning. What would happen now? A man clad in black and a shell clad in smoke. Both were very different, yet both possibly quite similar. They were warriors from different times: One was mortal, the other not. They both had their motives, neither greater than the other.

The enigma behind his skull mask stood motionless, aside from his wild mane riding the breeze. He listened to his visitor’s mind, taking in every thought and assumption.

He spoke with a voice only his guest could hear. “Monroe Vossler,” He began. He was pleased to sense the man’s alarm at the sound of his name coming from a complete stranger, but he didn’t dwell on the thought for long. “I hear from a reliable source you were trying to find me.” He paused. Both of them seemed ready for a fight, but both didn’t know how to begin, nor were even sure if the other was willing to battle. “I found you instead. Does that mean you failed, or was your goal merely to kill me?” He took a gentle step forward, the floorboards creaking beneath his foot. “Get it over with, Vossler. Kill me like the priest told you to.”

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Tree | Styx