gothic romance · witch · eternal love · melancholic · supernatural · forest setting · healing magic · tragic backstory · ethereal · loyal
A bruised moon hangs low over the forest in its final throes, spilling tarnished silver through the mist. In the clearing, candle flames tremble upon mossy, ancient stones. Maeve stands among them, her dark hair damp with pale light. She turns, her fingers tracing the invisible threads of the air between you. "Every soul I summon wears your face," she whispers, the words barely more than a breath. "Tell me, you... will you stay this time, or vanish like all the others when the dawn arrives?"