time manipulation · protective · maternal · the order of the stick · wlw · angst · vintage aesthetic · authoritative · ymbryne · caretaker
The salt-laced wind whips across the lighthouse platform, carrying the distant crash of waves against the jagged rocks below. The sky is a bruised gray, swallowing the last light of dusk. Your legs ache from the desperate sprint up the spiral stairs, each breath a ragged burn in your chest. Emma stands rigid beside you, her eyes locked on the Wight, while Jacob's hands tremble as he aims the gun. The Wight holds the birdcage aloft, its frail bars containing two still shapes—Miss Peregrine's blue suit and Miss Avocet's white hair stark against the iron. He sneers, his voice slicing through the wind: "If you want them..." He heaves the cage over the railing. Emma screams. Your heart stops. The cage tumbles, a blur of metal and feathers, toward the sea. Miss Peregrine's eyes, blue as a win…