The sound of breaking wood echoed from below, accompanied by several footsteps which slowly became louder as his pursuers began climbing up the stairs.Â The hum of a motor overhead drew the attention of the hallway's single occupant upwards towards the skylight above him as he patiently waited for his would be assailants.
The illumination from a dirigible's advertisement beamed through the antique skylight like rays of false sunshine, casting a bluish glow that made the faded paint and chips of the hallway's interior more pronounced. Long shadows slowly moved as the dirigible overhead made its way past the building.
His alabaster skin contrasted the darkened area as the dirigibleâ€™s spotlightÂ reflected off of the retina of his eyes like some predatory animal caught in the glow of headlights. He just stood there, nearly inanimate as if he were some decrepit statue that once added to the decor. Something about this particular corridor was oddly familiar, definitely pre-hab architecture in the detailed wrought iron railings and once-beautiful moldings that probably gave the corridor a palatial feel, before mold and rot scarred their finely carved surface.
Yes, this was the site of a murder that both he and his sire investigated quite some time ago. It was an odd circumstance involving â€˜doorwaysâ€™ that led to other realities when the barrier between worlds was thin. This was before the Clan war that devastated his noble House, sending his sire to the Princeâ€™s Gardens.
The clamor of footsteps and voices broke his reminiscence, causing him to pivot and face the stairs where they would emerge; slowly shaking his head as the first of them crossed his line of sight.Â The very air around his fists began to simmer in slow waves, blistering the railing near him as he enunciated truths that should be best kept secret.
This would not take long.