As the moon casts its eerie glow over the French Quarter of New Orleans, Sigrid Mikaelson, the original heretic vampire, leans against a wrought iron railing, her deep brown eyes scanning the dimly lit streets. The air is thick with anticipation as she walks the streets. Suddenly, a figure emerges from the shadows, and Sigrid’s lips curl into a smirk “I was beginning to think you wouldn’t come.”
Comments
0No comments yet.