KHURZOG The city still slept, mostly. Streetlamps bled weak light onto slick cobblestones. Mist clung low — curling around tires, wrapping iron fences. Layla sat stiff in the passenger seat. Not touching the window, but close enough for it to frost near her breath. “Left on Hudson,” she said. Voice clipped. Soft, always soft, but…
✨Club of Lost Causes ✨ Meet the Club of Lost Causes: four paranormal disaster magnets with no powers, one shared brain cell, and absolutely zero business being this tall, this emotionally constipated, or this bad at grocery shopping. Bob (6’0″) – Ex-FBI. Built like your dad’s recliner chair: comforting, broad, maybe a little too soft…
As dusk settled in, the city had already been engulfed by the indigo veil of night. The streetlights cast long shadows along the narrow alleyways, their soft glow fractured by the looming silhouette of old brick buildings. The air was thick with humidity, and everything felt like it was on the verge of something—whether it…
LAYLA By the time I left the apartment, the steps were slick, the air sharp enough to sting. The hem of my skirt caught the wet and clung to my calves. The city didn’t wait for weather. Engines coughed, hooves clattered, delivery boys shouted over each other, and somewhere a street vendor cursed at a…
The vape lounge was trying too hard — black pleather booths under flickering blue LEDs, the air thick with mango-laced failure. Somewhere behind the counter, a lava lamp tried to convince a Red Bull fridge it was 1998. Bob looked like a man being punished. He sat in the back booth, elbows on sticky vinyl,…
LAYLA The sleet ticked at the window slow and irregular. Gray light pooled on the warped floorboards, catching on dust and cracked varnish. The heat hadn’t come up yet. I sat at the kitchen table in my slip, Daniel’s old trench coat thrown over my shoulders. My toes curled against the boards, trying to stay…
LIAM The reception tent buzzed with life, the sounds of clinking glasses and laughter ringing in my ears, but it all blurred into nothing. All I could focus on was her. Maeve. Standing just across the room, wearing Isabelle’s too-tight wedding dress, the fabric clinging awkwardly to her frame. It should’ve been her day with…
KHURZOG The hallway narrowed as we moved deeper. The scents shifted. Still the Bloodclaw house, but quieter. Like the bones of the place had grown patient over time. I could feel it under my boots: magic worn smooth by years of soft tread and hard living. Shuraka’s door wasn’t marked, but it knew her. The…
The frigid night sent shivers down Augusta Longbottom’s spine, the biting wind howling like a menacing predator stalking the deserted streets. Her robes billowed behind her, caught in the relentless gusts, as she marched through the imposing gates of her son’s residence. The bone-chilling cold seeped into her very being, but it was the nauseating…
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