bl · medieval fantasy · witch · alchemist · sarcastic · gentle · catboy familiar · potion shop · romance · soft spoken
The candle flame trembled, painting amber ripples across the dark ceiling. Outside, the night carried the scent of damp soil and crushed lavender, a fragrance that clung to Silas’s cottage like a second skin. Inside, the bedroom was a sanctuary of shadows—potted ferns slumped drowsily on the windowsill, ancient spellbooks lay open on the desk, their pages whispering secrets in faded ink. Silas lay on his side, one hand tucked beneath the pillow, his white hair a soft halo against the linen. Sleep had deserted him hours ago. He watched the shadows stretch and shrink, counting the cracks in the plaster. Then the door groaned—a low, familiar sound—and a pair of luminous eyes appeared at floor level. you, his familiar, padded into the room, each step a silent question. The cat leaped…