Like a memory that refuses to fade, she glides through the narrow alley—silent, almost weightless, her gown a river of deep red, carrying the color of life through a realm of shadows. Light brushes over crumbling façades, revealing walls that have witnessed love, betrayal, and blood. Above her, wrought-iron balconies lean forward like silent spectators of an ancient play.
At the alley’s end, darkness opens—a gate to the unknown. Does she walk toward it, or is she born from it?
Bloodstone Alley is not a place but a state of mind: the instant when seduction and danger become one.
