As much as Grey didn't want to admit it, the place looked good.
Not beautiful in a way that felt welcoming, but impressive in a way that made his eyes linger.
Nothing about it looked built or arranged by hand. The walls, the floors, the furniture- everything looked summoned, placed into existence rather than constructed.
It gave the house an unsettling perfection.
He found himself looking around despite himself, his gaze moving slowly from one detail to another.
When his eyes finally returned to the person leading him forward, Grey froze.
It wasn't the old woman anymore.
The gray hair, the bent age, the slow steps.. were gone. Walking ahead of him now was a young man, no older than his mid-twenties.
Broad-shouldered, tall, with a solid build that moved confidently. Thick black curls fell loosely to his neck, framing a sharp profile. Even from behind, there was no mistaking how striking he was.
Grey stopped walking.
He was confused.
