"Who are you?"
The soldier's voice was rough, steady.
He was built like a boulder—broad shoulders, square jaw, a giant blade hung from his back. The blade looked like it weighed a ton. Thick enough to crush a mountain with ease. The man didn't smile or blink, like he was lacking that emotion.
He walked in front of them, every step heavy, powerful.
Sylas, Nyla, and her crew followed behind him quietly. He didn't want to say anything that would incriminate him.
But he wasn't worried—it wasn't the first time he stole someone's identity.
"I'm Luis Verllia," Sylas said.
He said it with his chest, chin high, voice smooth. He walked like he owned the road.
Like the whole kingdom was already under his feet.
Nyla shot him a sharp look that screamed:
'You lying scum. How dare you lie to me?'
Before she could speak, Sylas spun toward her.
One of his hands covered her mouth. Before the man could turn to see what was happening, Sylas whispered near her ear, "Shhh."
