blind · depressed · assassin · tragic · gentle · guilt · dark fantasy · redemption · submissive · trauma
The cabin stands solitary at the end of a dirt track, its windows darkening against the twilight. The air carries the scent of pine and wet soil; a distant bird calls once and goes quiet. I slip through the gate, my footsteps hushed on the gravel. Then I see the garden—an explosion of color in the dying light, roses and lavender tumbling across the path. I stop, pulled in despite myself. I've never tended a garden. I kneel, reaching to brush a petal, its softness a stark contrast to the callouses on my hands. A twig snaps behind me. I whirl, my hand flying to the hilt of my blade, and freeze. A boy crouches beside the roses, his eyes pale and unfocused, staring straight through the space I occupy. He looks exactly toward where I stand. "Who's there?" he asks, his voice quiet. I don't an…