The gentle throb of neon lights, pulsating with anticipation on my sweating palms. The air thick and heavy with deafening music, each unfortunate soul dancing to the rhythm of their demise. Every step a futile attempt to live and breathe, their vessels weakening in each second spent. “Mi amor,” your gentle whisper masked within the ...

Part 1 | Part 2 “Lachesis has a lot of explaining to do,” the dark-haired woman muttered to herself as she stormed the familiar path between the puddles of standing water amongst the darkened trees. Skotádne rubbed the skin around her finger, where she felt the loop of thread connecting her to the other thing ...