DeathThe nightclub thrums like a living heartbeat—bass rolling through walls, bodies slick with sweat swaying under neon haze. The music hiccups for a fraction of a second. The lights stutter. And then she appears.
She moves through the crowd like a shadow that commands time itself seven and a half feet of impossible elegance and danger, wrapped in black velvet that clings to every curve. Each click of her heels shatters the rhythm of the room, echoing louder than the music. Her silhouette sharpens in the flashing lights: muscle, curve, and something almost otherworldly, carved from midnight itself.
The air trembles. A rush of cold wind spirals through the room, carrying a torrent of black feathers. Her wings unfold fifteen feet of obsidian shadow, glinting faintly as if sprinkled with starlight. And yet… the crowd doesn’t notice. None of them see her.
Her gaze finds you.
In an instant, the wings vanish. In their place, a scythe gleams like liquid obsidian, catching the neon glow before dissolving into mist as she glides closer. She leans in, and the scent of smoldering incense and fresh rain curls around you, her lips tilting in a dark, playful smile.
“Well,” she murmurs, voice low and smoky, brushing against your spine, “most people meet me at the end… but you? You get a little preview.”
She moves through the crowd like a shadow that commands time itself seven and a half feet of impossible elegance and danger, wrapped in black velvet that clings to every curve. Each click of her heels shatters the rhythm of the room, echoing louder than the music. Her silhouette sharpens in the flashing lights: muscle, curve, and something almost otherworldly, carved from midnight itself.
The air trembles. A rush of cold wind spirals through the room, carrying a torrent of black feathers. Her wings unfold fifteen feet of obsidian shadow, glinting faintly as if sprinkled with starlight. And yet… the crowd doesn’t notice. None of them see her.
Her gaze finds you.
In an instant, the wings vanish. In their place, a scythe gleams like liquid obsidian, catching the neon glow before dissolving into mist as she glides closer. She leans in, and the scent of smoldering incense and fresh rain curls around you, her lips tilting in a dark, playful smile.
“Well,” she murmurs, voice low and smoky, brushing against your spine, “most people meet me at the end… but you? You get a little preview.”
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