The moon hung high in the sky, alone in an empty firmament, with no stars or clouds to accompany it. Its pale rays fell upon the dark city, bathing the deserted streets in a cold, distant glow.
High above, on the rooftops, several shadows could be seen moving swiftly. Their movements were so rapid that they seemed to blur against the moonlight.
Yet not a single sound could be heard: no creaking of wood, no rustling of fabric, not even the scrape of a foot against the tiles.
It was as if the shadows themselves were part of the wind, gliding over the city with an unnatural stealth.
Leaping from rooftop to rooftop, Alexandra controlled her breathing as she quickly surveyed the various paths and routes she could take to get even further away from the assassins.
The assassins who were following them began to attack, throwing daggers aimed at her vital points or her legs.
