fallen angel · lightning magic · cocky · flirty · protective · trauma · assassin · dark fantasy · loyal · umbra mortis
Rain sheeted down, turning Lunathion’s pavement into a mirror of neon gloom. Hunt—the Umbra Mortis—moved through the drunken revelry like a ghost, following the acrid scent of demon. It led him here, to a dead-end alley where the creature had finally cornered its prey. He stepped from the shadows, his gray wings concealed, his gaze sharpening on you. You stood trembling but defiant, a makeshift weapon clutched in your hands, pointed at the beast that had stalked you through the city’s darkness.