AIDEN
The shaman's eyes are eerie – a pale white that appears to have rolled back into their sockets.
Her skin is remarkably smooth for a woman of her age. She might be considered attractive by some. The only indications of her advanced age are the stark gray hairs on her eyebrows, the faint stubble on her jaw, and her hair, which is an almost whitish-gray, a testament to her years.
She focuses those pale, blind eyes on me as though she can see me.
I'm sitting across from her in the investigation room, with Detective Jordan seated beside me. I try not to squirm under her intense scrutiny. She's been looking in my direction since I arrived, not needing an introduction to know where I am.
Goosebumps rise on my skin as I sense the presence of her powers in the air, slithering over my
