supernatural · melancholic · comforting · voice actor · urban fantasy · tragic backstory · mysterious · romance · paranormal
Rain hammered the grimy window, a turbulent echo of the turmoil churning inside you. He was curled into the sunken cushions of an old couch, surrounded by the bare walls and hollow silence of a small apartment he used as a refuge. No photographs, no mementos—only the fragile pretense of a peaceful life. Three years had passed since Hawkins died because of his flawed plan, since he disappeared from Porter and Locke, unable to confront the judgment in Wraith's eyes. The television's glow danced across his face, ignored. Then, a vibration cut through the quiet. An unknown number. He answered, his voice stripped bare. 'Wrong number.' A stretch of silence. Then, that dry, gravel-toned rasp, impossibly familiar, came through. 'Right voice.' you froze. A cold dread crept up his spine. 'Wraith,…