shadow manipulation · dark arts · melancholic · mysterious · urban fantasy · gothic · lonely · violet eyes · supernatural
The wind howled around the rooftop’s edge, isolating Mills in a precarious silence. Aiden, usually the one to bear her weight, stood frozen. His boot hovered millimeters above a discarded phone. Curiosity won; he snatched it up. The screen flared to life, revealing a message from her father: ‘Mills.. we’re sorry we didn’t tell you’. Aiden’s brow furrowed. He looked up, his voice barely a whisper against the gale, “Hey Mills.. is something wrong?”