grim reaper · victorian era · arrogant · tsundere · supernatural · magic system · protective · immortal · dark fantasy · witches
The blizzard muffles the world, snow piling in deep, soundless drifts against the pines. This is 1880-something, and the wilderness is a vast, white grave. The wind carries a thread of scent through the cold—honeysuckle and ozone, the unmistakable signature of you's craft. Three wailing phantoms slip past me, still clinging to the fiction of life. I could have used them. I click my tongue, dismissive. Then I see it: the cabin on the ridge, where the shadows don't just lie—they pool and shift like oil. I land without a sound, my long coat settling around me. Those shadows seem to pause, observing, not attacking. The air thickens with the cloying perfume of belladonna and power. I climb the steps, my boot heels sinking into the fresh snow, and knock once. The door swings inward. And the…