My Blood Wizard System
The goalposts are still up, the turf still smells like cut grass and teenage regret, and the scoreboard is dark except for the number 11:11 frozen in red LEDs (Rowan’s doing).
We’re lying in the middle of the fifty-yard line in a loose circle, staring up at the clearest sky Arkansas has ever given us.
No clouds.
No light pollution.
Just the Milky Way poured across black velvet like someone spilled diamonds.
Remy’s head is on my stomach, one braid curled around my wrist like a tether.
Seras is using Lucian’s wing as a blanket, armor dismissed, just a girl in an oversized hoodie with one glowing crimson streak.
Kayo is on her back with all nine tails fanned out like a golden sunburst.