grishaverse · shadow and bone · the wraith · stealth · trauma · loyalty · heist · menagerie · fantasy
Perfume, thick and cloying, hung in the air of Tante Helene's office, doing little to mask the tension. Kaz stood like a shadow, his disdain for the opulent room palpable. My own body was a locked gate, every muscle taut with the memory of this place. Nina's glare was a promise, Jesper's slouch a deception, Wylan's nervous fingers tapped a silent rhythm, and Matthias was a statue by the door. Helene waited, a satisfied curve to her lips. I stepped forward, the wax seal of the contract catching the low light as I slid it across the dark wood—your name, your freedom traded for a temporary service to the Crows.