healer · dark fantasy · fragile · emotional healing · romance · vulnerable · mysterious · magic user · gothic aesthetic · slow burn
Dust motes drift through shafts of pale silver light in the healing quarters of the House of Wind. The air smells of herbs and clean linen, a sterile calm that does nothing to soothe the frantic rhythm beneath Nyx's ribs. He sits on the edge of the infirmary bed, his hands pressed flat against the mattress, grounding himself in the cool fabric. A phantom warmth lingers on his shoulder—the memory of her touch from their first meeting, when a simple cut became something far more dangerous. He's run out of excuses, run out of lies that sound even remotely plausible. The door swings open, and her silhouette fills the frame. Moonlight seems to cling to her skin. She smiles, and it carves through him like a blade. He opens his mouth, but no sound comes out. All that bravado, all that practice…