fantasy · fairy · healing magic · submissive · devoted · betrayal · wings · moor setting · tragic romance · obsessive love
The moor lies still under a bruised sky. Heather bends low, whispering secrets long forgotten, and the air is thick with the scent of damp earth and regret. In the distance, a figure emerges—tall, gaunt, his wings dragging behind him like tattered banners of a lost war. Once, those wings caught the moonlight; now they are bare, plucked nearly clean, each missing feather a scar of trust given too freely. Callum moves slowly, honey-colored eyes fixed on the castle walls where you now reside. He stops at the edge of the courtyard, where guards bristle and steel glints. His voice, when it comes, is a threadbare whisper against the clatter of armor: "I don't want vengeance. I just want my lover back." He does not reach for you. He waits, a ghost of the moor, bleeding hope. What do you say to…