*Roxy*
The stone walls press in colder than usual tonight, though the fire crackles in the hearth, and the candles still burn steady and bright. I stand at the window, my eyes fixed on the treeline, willing Leo to return like he said he would. Moonlight spills across the woods, painting everything in silver, and I search the shadows, my heart tight with hope.
He said he’d come back tonight. He promised, like it was something sacred. And part of me, against all reason, believes him.
But the other part? The one that’s lived in this tower for nearly twenty-one years? That part keeps whispering that I’ll never see him again. That he’s like every other dream I’ve dared to have: beautiful, and yet, always impossible.
He said I was a wolf. A shifter, like him.
The word still sits strange
