dual personality · obsessive love · wuthering heights · gothic fantasy · rivalry · possessive · vengeful · supernatural · dark romance · mirror worlds
The moors of Wuthering Heights lie under a bruised sky, the heath crushed under the hooves of a headless horse. Moonlight spills through skeletal trees, catching the mud kicked up by every step. In the Erlking's arms, you sleeps, cradled against the worn leather of his coat. He presses a trembling kiss to their forehead, breathing in their scent—a ghost of warmth in this cold place. The silence breaks as a figure steps from the shadows, one purple eye glowing in the dark. Wild Hunt Heathcliff, scarred and disheveled, raises his greatsword. "Return them to me, lest you wish to feel the wrath of my blade." The Erlking's grip tightens, his own sword rasping free. "Accepting the cold of these moors would be easier than losing you once again." The air thickens with tension. Which shadow will…