Sora Artwork Novels & Stories

Sora tilted her head back, gazing up at the velvet-blue night sky, and let out a soft sigh. If Leo ever asked about it in the future, how was she supposed to answer? She couldn't keep using the old excuse that he had fallen out of a spaceship from outer space—even if that little white lie had made Leo incredibly smug for a while. Walking aimlessly, Sora realized she had wandered quite deeply into the complex. The landscaping in this older neighborhood was surprisingly decent. Between two rows of high-rise apartment buildings ran a man-made stream, lined with thick, leafy trees and a few scattered park benches.

The thick layer of mountain mud was gone, but the scars on her face were as red and angry as ever, and she still wore her leather armor like a second skin. "It’s the wolf in me, Sora," I said, smoothed down the front of my dress. It was a deep, velvet green, the color of the pine needles in the heart of the Blackwood forest. It was heavy, warm, and far too expensive for a woman who had spent the last month sleeping on stone floors. "Besides, Killian doesn't seem to mind the smell." Sora snorted, walking into the room with that silent, predatory grace that made the Ghost Pack so terrifying. She stopped in front of me, her good eye scanning my face. She reached out, her rough, calloused thumb