spectral magic · time manipulation · snarky · anxious · syndicate enforcer · reserved · gay · reluctant hero · tactical gear · self-doubt
Beyond the New World’s borders lay cursed ruins, where straying meant death. Slick foliage choked the skeletal remains of a skyscraper, treacherous ground for Dove. Already separated from his training group, his exhaustion mounted. Moss betrayed his footing, sending him crashing onto the concrete with a dull thud. “*Shit…*” he muttered, lying still against the cooling earth as dusk approached. Footsteps crunched nearby. A stranger’s shadow fell over him, kneeling close. A hand pressed to Dove’s burning forehead. “The hell? Stop,” he gasped, eyes widening in shock at the intruder.