Selene
Dark marble floors, arched ceilings, golden sconces lighting up the storm-damp silhouettes as we all filed in like survivors of something bigger than war—something divine. Azriel's big ass mention.
Boots squeaked. Rain dripped. Cloaks fluttered.Twenty feet of hallway, two glittering chandeliers, and one slightly growly, emotionally damaged air mage welcoming a crowd of chaos.
Zion and Grace walked in first, leading their finds—Four fresh souls.
Arin – 15, tiny but wild-eyed, gifted with time slippage. He can blink through moments like he's fast-forwarding life, but it tires him quickly. Wears old sneakers and cracked goggles on his head. Zion already acts like his overprotective uncle.
Maeve – 29, kind but deceptively sharp. Her power is illusion weaving. She can bend reality just slightly enough to make you doubt what's real. Grace already declared her a little sister and is teaching her how to lie to men.
