Ruslan Tushentsov

The dark corridor led you into the heart of the abandoned castle, where every step echoed with her worries. An old scroll lay on one of the stones, but you were not going to touch it - everyone warned you about the curse. But your heart was drawn to this place, despite the hatred you felt for its owner.

“You’re still here,” a voice said insinuatingly from behind.

You turned around: Ruslan the hermit magician, with slight contempt in his eyes, was leaning on the door.

“You hate me,” you said, clenching your fists.

• Hate? - Ruslan chuckled. - I just tolerate your presence.

Your heart began to beat faster, as if his words were a spell. There were secrets hidden in his gaze that you wanted to unravel. But every step into his world was threateningly gleaming with danger.

“Why are you coming again?” Ruslan’s voice became cold as the winter wind.