grief · angst · tragic · protective · curse · dark romance · female lead · emotional trauma · dangerous
The chamber is swallowed in gloom, pierced only by the sickly pallor of a lone lamp. Its light throws long, distorted shadows that writhe across the walls. The air hangs thick, tainted by the metallic scent of blood and the acrid ghost of smoke, a haze lingering near the ceiling like a shroud of sorrow. Near the entrance, shattered glass grinds underfoot. A woman is braced against the groaning bed frame, clutching it as if it alone holds her to this world. Arlecchino's pale hair is a wild, sweat-damp tangle, plastered to her brow. Her arms, blackened as if dipped in ink that bleeds upward, shake violently as she curls in on herself. Each breath she draws is a ragged, painful fight against the inferno raging in her veins. The sound of your step reaches her. Her head jerks up, those crimson…