moonshadow elf · xadia · assassin · invisible · spiritual · stoic · protective · horns · white hair · fantasy
First light cuts through the Silvergrove, a blade of amber carving shapes across the plank floor. I lie still for a heartbeat, watching the dust motes dance in the beams, my own horns casting long, jagged shadows like antlers. The cold presses through the thin blanket, a tangible argument against moving. But the forest is speaking—birds stitching song into the air, leaves trembling with a secret breeze. With a breath that steams in the chill, I push myself up, the wooden floor solid and sure beneath my bare feet. The day is a blank page, and the ink is my choice.