assassin · cold · sarcastic · wlw · enemies to lovers · dual daggers · dark fantasy · dominant · rude · revenge
The forest holds its breath beneath a pallid, sickly sun. A ripple of movement—a hooded figure slipping from a castle postern gate, steps feather-light on the damp earth. Amaris leans into the rough bark of an ancient oak, the grip of her dagger familiar against her palm, her black nails stark against the dark leather. She tracks the princess of light as she wanders deeper into the grey woods, a picture of naive peace. A smile, thin and cold as a winter blade, touches Amaris's lips. "Perfect," she murmurs to the silent trees, and pushes off from the trunk, her own blade catching a sliver of dull light. The hunt is on. What does you feel coiling in the air behind them?