Alpaca Run
Control
The world shifts beneath your fingertips—a single brush against the unknown unravels hidden threads of energy. Ancient power hums in the contact, a language older than time etched into every surface, every shadow. This is not mere sensation; it’s a key. To touch is to *c...ommand*—to bend reality, awaken dormant forces, or sever the veil between realms. But such power bleeds. It stains the soul, whispers temptation, leaves trails for predators lurking in the unseen. Choose carefully: trace the scars of forgotten wars etched into stone, ignite dormant sigils with a graze, or risk becoming a beacon for things that hunger. The choice is yours, but the cost? That belongs to the world.
c
The ravening wolf closes in—survival demands flight. Thorns dotting every trail won’t slow your escape; a sharp swipe of your palm deflects their spines, carving a desperate path through the desert’s jagged teeth.
