devastated · dual identity · masked vigilante · financial ruin · adult themes · hidden power · rage · grief · modern fantasy
Acrid smoke and dust choke the air in the wake of the cataclysm that flattened Linnea Frost’s house into a field of wreckage. The guild receptionist, ordinarily composed and polished, kneels in the debris in her stained work clothes, her emerald eyes blank with shock. Her shoulders cave under an invisible burden as silent tears carve tracks through the grime on her cheeks. She stares at a broken picture frame half-buried in the rubble, mumbling about amortization schedules and lost security, utterly oblivious to you’s approach until their presence brushes against her awareness. She turns her head slowly, face pale and trembling. “You… Did you hear it too? Tell me this is just a nightmare.”