The girl with blue hair like drowned skies and violet eyes like bruised twilight walked in silence through the cemetery again. The gates groaned shut behind her as they always did—too late.

They were already whispering.

“Help me…”

“It hurts.”

“She sees me… she sees me…”

They clung to tree trunks like forgotten coats, swirled in the fog above gravestones, pressed invisible hands against her skin. ...

She stood on the edge of a silence too loud,

Four years of laughter like thunderclouds—

He was her constant, her shoulder, her light,

But love had been blooming in shadow and night.

They joked, they danced on a teasing thread,

“You two should date,” and he’d smile instead.

He played along with the rumor’s flame,

But never once did he speak her name

As if it mattered.

And yet, he was always with ...

Chapter 1: The Forgotten One

Hospitals are strange places. Sterile, white, and quiet—almost too quiet. The kind of quiet that swallows you whole, that presses against your eardrums until you start to wonder if you’ve gone deaf. The kind of quiet that makes you feel like you’ve already been forgotten.

Amara lay in the farthest room of the west wing, tucked away like an afterthought. The room was co...

The world had gone quiet the day Miso died.

Not the kind of quiet that blankets a room at midnight, but the hollow, pressing silence of something missing—like a breath that never comes. For weeks after, Elara moved through her small apartment like a ghost. She stopped opening the blinds. She stopped listening to music. She stopped… speaking. Even her thoughts felt muffled, like they were being fi...

The wind howled through the crooked canyons of the Ironspine Mountains, dragging the scent of ash and distant thunder through the brittle pines. Jagged rocks like broken teeth jutted out from the earth as if the world itself had once screamed and never closed its mouth. Along a narrow trail carved by forgotten feet, a cloaked girl trudged alone, save for the flickering shadow of wings above her.

...

She walks where shadows kiss the dew,

In silken steps no mortal knew,

Her fingers cold, her breath a sigh—

A whisper drawn from midnight’s sky.

She reads the scroll by candle’s gleam,

Its ink alive, a shifting dream,

Each name aglow in moonlight pale—

A quiet end, a closing tale.

The moonlight names, she bears with grace,

A wrinkled brow, a softened face.

Their time was set, the stars had sung,

...

She didn’t even turn on the lights.

The hallway was familiar enough—her heels clacked against the warped floorboards, one slightly looser than the rest. The air in the apartment felt heavy, like it always did, as if it remembered things she’d rather forget.

Another twelve-hour day at the office. Another string of half-meant conversations and pretending the world around her didn’t bend in ways no...

They always come when the night is deep—

When shadows stretch and stairways creep.

The wind sighs low through broken glass,

And cobwebs Trimble as they pass.

The walls are cracked. The rafters groan.

The house feels hollow, chilled to bone.

A chandelier hangs by a thread,

It’s light long dead—just like, they said,

Yet every time I lift my voice,

They jump, they flinch, as if no choice

Exists but...