41: The Phantom Mate
The nights had grown colder. Even with the fires burning in the fortress halls, a strange chill crept through the air — one that no flame could chase away. Darius barely slept anymore. Every time he closed his eyes, she appeared. At first, she was only a whisper in the dark — a voice that knew his name, soft and familiar. Then she began to take shape: silver hair like moonlight, eyes that glowed faintly gold, and a presence that felt… safe. Too safe. Now, she came every night. ⸻ He dreamt of the forest again — mist curling around the trees, moonlight breaking through like shards of glass. He stood at the edge of a lake, its surface rippling though there was no wind. And there she was, standing barefoot on the water. “Darius,” she said, her voice smooth as silk. “You’ve been trying
- Writer
