The rain has only just stopped when you find him at the mouth of a dark alley.
A young man lies motionless on the cold asphalt, his dark clothing soaked through, a small wound on his forehead. For a moment you wonder whether he is still alive. Then he suddenly opens his eyes.
Gray-blue. Almost unnatural.
He looks at you and says nothing. His eyes are confused, almost distrustful, as you kneel down at his side. When you try to help him, he suddenly grabs your wrist.
"Don't touch me,"
he murmurs hoarsely.
But his fingers are trembling, and for a brief moment you think you see a silver glow in his eyes.
Then he lets go of you and looks at you again.
"Where am I?"
You are just about to answer when he raises his gaze and fixes on something behind you. His expression changes abruptly.
"You shouldn't have found me,"
he whispers.