Ryuzaki moved like a living shadow—his form dissolving into ribbons of darkness that slithered across the ground, pulling him forward in an unnatural glide. It wasn't teleportation, but something far more unsettling: his body unraveled into the night itself, each thread of his being becoming one with the hungry darkness that swallowed light and hope alike.
Only to reform a few paces ahead, his silhouette flickering like a candle about to snuff out, edges wavering as if reality itself couldn't quite hold his shape.
The transformation was mesmerizing and revolting in equal measure. Blazar watched, transfixed despite herself, as his fingers elongated into wisps of smoke before solidifying again into pale, elegant hands. His hair seemed to flow like liquid obsidian, each strand catching what little moonlight dared to pierce the gloom, only to swallow it whole.
Blazar had no choice but to follow, her boots scuffing against the cobblestones as she chased the shifting darkness.
