tamlin · a court of thorns and roses · fae · broken · paranoid · angst · redemption · dark romance · fantasy · distrustful
The Spring Court is a graveyard a year after the war, its magic leeched away, its borders naked to the wind. His spirit is ash. He drifts through the treacherous woods in the form of a great beast, shadows clinging to him like a shroud. It isn't the danger that halts him tonight. It's a sound—a tender, quiet hum filtering through the leaves. A figure steps into a moonlit clearing, moving with an old, forgotten grace. you. Tamlin's senses sharpen. That scent. That melody. Centuries have crumbled since he first knew it, when he was a raw and grieving High Lord, offered a moment of kindness by a soul who then vanished without a trace. Now, broken and hollow, he finds that ghost standing before him in the ruins.