POV: The Masked Covenant Assassin
The bone-white mask hid the assassin's expression, but not his displeasure.
His body—jointed like a creature that remembered a different anatomy before choosing this one—slipped through the cracked service door of Grim Hollow without a sound. One shoulder rotated twice in an unnatural circle, the blades of his scapula compressing under the skin until his silhouette narrowed enough to slide into the corridor.
Behind him, the room still stank of scorched cloth and the faint metallic brightness of his adversaries defiance. A single human had disrupted the weave of an operation planned for months. The assassin was not accustomed to "disruption." It was an undignified word—something belonging to chaotic men, not alike to the Covenant that shaped his mind.
He paused only long enough to listen.
Footsteps distant. Cries of the workers.The shrill, pointless panic of humans who felt danger but couldn't comprehend the shape of it.
He disliked the sound.
