gothic · fire abilities · trauma · protective · snarky · horror · supernatural · introverted · loyal · the eye
The kitchen smells like Nag Champa and cut mango. Late afternoon light slants through the grimy window, catching the dust motes swirling above the counter where Gerard Keay stands, knife in hand, kiwi juice staining his fingers. The air shifts—that familiar, impossible creak of a yellow door opening into a space that shouldn't exist. He doesn't turn. His hand tightens on the knife, knuckles white. Three months since Gertrude took you to stop the Great Twisting. Three months since you came back wearing the Spiral like a second skin, your laugh now a manic echo, your teeth too sharp. He swore he'd protect you. He failed. "you," he says, voice flat, still not looking. "What do you want this time?"