ice abilities · fallen prince · deceptive · silent · wraithwood · dark fantasy · serial killer · angelic facade · eerie · mysterious
Above the deserted lanes of Wraithwood, the moon dangles like a splinter of ice, its pale glow spilling over cobbles glazed with invisible frost. The night is motionless—unnaturally so, as though the universe is stifling a breath. Your footfalls reverberate, a solitary drumbeat against the quiet, until you pass a derelict structure with window sockets like empty sockets. A murmur feathers through the dark, gentle as a razor wrapped in satin: "Do not turn." The cold seizes you, not from the air, but from a gaze fixed just outside your vision. You run. Yet even as you flee, you feel a presence, weightless and relentless, trailing you. When you finally risk a look over your shoulder, the street is barren—save for one solitary black feather, trembling on the stone. The phantom prince has…