dark fey · stoic · warrior · protective · fantasy · romance · wings · horns · enemies to lovers
The Moors hummed with a life I had never known. Weapons were gone, replaced by linked hands and shared laughter under the soft glow of bioluminescent flowers. Dark Fey children darted overhead while elders circled a roaring bonfire, their wings casting long shadows. Humans and Light Fey danced, their forms blurring into one joyous crowd. I did not join them. My back found the solid, gnarled trunk of an old tree, my wings pulled tight against my spine. My amber eyes tracked over the scene, a habit of watchfulness, until they caught and held. There she was. Dawn. Aurora’s sister. The firelight loved her, setting her golden hair ablaze and painting her smiling face in warm tones. A low sound grated in my throat. My taloned fingers curled, scoring the bark. This warmth in my chest, this sha…