044: Hues of Purple

The alley was the kind that swallowed sound and light both, like something carved from the ribs of a sleeping giant.

Crumbling stone walls leaned inward like they were trying to eavesdrop—listening, waiting, pressing closer with the weight of secrets they weren't supposed to hold.

The air was thick. Damp. It clung to the skin like a second, colder sweat. Every breath Valeria took felt like it scraped the inside of her throat with invisible needles—metallic, sharp, wrong.

Shadows clung to the corners, thick and unmoving, not shifting with the light but standing apart from it—too heavy, too stubborn. The only source of illumination—a flickering green-tinted lantern—hung precariously above a crooked doorframe, swinging just enough to make the shadows breathe. It cast everything in a sickly hue, like bile through stained glass.