Winter's Awakening
Before I could fully process what was happening, the laughter grew louder, followed by a slow, deliberate clapping that sent dread coiling through me.
From the shadows, a figure appeared—my heart sank like a stone. Jayla. She stood before us, still in her wedding dress, but it was no longer the pristine white fabric that had symbolized purity and joy. Now, it looked like a torn shroud, stained with darkness that clung to its edges like the memory of decay. Her hair, as black as raven feathers, was matted against her chest—wet and sticky, reflecting the faint light with a sheen that made my stomach turn. But her face, oh God, her face! It was pale, almost skeletal, with hollow cheeks framing
Hot Chapters