Sabrina stood frozen in shock.
The world around her was ruins.
The ground was cracked, smeared with dried blood. Swords and arrows lay scattered beneath her feet, their steel rusted and broken. Black towers clawed into a blood-red sky, their jagged silhouettes clawing at the heavens. Ash drifted down like snow, soft but suffocating, coating everything in a choking gray.
Her chest heaved. Panic thundered in her ears.
This wasn't her room.
This wasn't even Earth.
W-where am I? What is this place?
She spun in circles, hoping to see a way out. But everywhere she turned, there was only silence and devastation, the kind of silence that pressed down heavy, as if the world itself was holding its breath.
Then she felt it.
A presence.
Heavy.
Magnetic.
Watching.
Her skin prickled, every hair on her body standing on end. She wasn't alone.
Her head snapped around, shivers racing down her spine.
"W-who's there?" she whispered, afraid that someone...or something might answer
Suddenly—
"What's a pretty girl like you doing here? All alone…"
The voice was low. Husky. Too close.
Sabrina's heart nearly jumped out of her chest. She turned slowly.
He was there.
Tall. Cloaked in shadows that writhed like they were alive, curling and twisting around him like smoke. His eyes glowed faintly, embers smoldering in the dark. Even from a distance, his presence pressed against her skin, thick and suffocating, bending the very air around him.
Her throat went dry.
"Who… are you?"
The stranger didn't answer. He only stepped forward—slow, deliberate—like a predator closing in on prey that had nowhere to run.
Instinct screamed at her to move. To run. To do something. But her body betrayed her. She stumbled back one step, then another—until her shoulders slammed into something solid.
Her breath hitched.
She spun around, eyes wide, but her blood ran cold.
He was there again.
Up close.
Terrifying. Beautiful.
Her lips parted in shock. How…? How did he move so fast?
She couldn't run. It was as if she had looked Medusa in the eyes—her body frozen, her breath trapped in her chest. Every instinct screamed danger, yet her legs refused to obey.
The stranger tilted his head, watching her with unreadable intensity. Then, with unhurried ease, he reached out.
His hand rose, brushing against her hair. The touch was light, deliberate, almost tender. His fingers lingered as he tucked a strand behind her ear, before trailing down the curve of her cheek.
Her skin burned where he touched, a confusing mix of fear and something else—something hotter, unfamiliar—that made her chest tighten.
The corners of his lips curved, not quite a smile.
"You're trembling," he murmured, voice like velvet laced with steel.
Sabrina wanted to scream. To shove him away. But no sound left her throat. Her heart hammered so loud she thought he could hear it.
Then he leaned in.
Closer.
Closer…
His breath fanned against her lips, warm and steady, smelling faintly of smoke and something ancient, something dangerous.
Her knees nearly buckled.
And then—his lips brushed hers.