The man. The beast. The Immortal. Sarachan. Or, to give him his full title, Sarachan The Endless. He was tall, dark. Hair flowed like an endless water...all to his waist, jet black and poker straight. He seemed to suck the light into him, the air blurring and twisting as he moved towards Brentt, the grass parting as he approached. His long raincoat flapped in the wind, slower and more deliberately than it should have. Deep within his eyesocket, the setting sun flared in a blood-red pinpoint.. Then Nisha softly spoke, “Did you understand all we were talking about?”When he was about to answer, that was the first time I tried looking at his face. I didn’t see his eyes, but I noticed his devilish smile from the rearview mirror. The same smile every blackmailer gives after he realizes that the fish has caught the bait.He started talking. With the level of detail with which he had pieced all the information, I could foresee what was inevitable. Despite us being discrete, he understood it. More

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