“W-who are you?” I say in a terrified state. I have a feeling I know exactly who it is, but surely, it’s not. It can’t be.
The man stays still as his followers begin to break apart and skirt through the crowd. I can only see their mouths from their hoods, and they are chanting softly in unison, possibly the reason the whole crowd is in a binding spell. One of them gets too close for comfort and I step to the side quickly in a guarded position.
“They won’t harm you, Lincoln. Not while I’m around.” His voice is gentle, yet by looking at him, he’s anything but. His thin graying hair and purple bags under his eyes speak of normal old age, but if he’s Enchanted, he shouldn’t look more than 40. His dark green eyes twinkle with knowledge, but I can still see the lick of dark magic in his veins.
