๐ฐ๐ต๐ป๐ถ๐ฟ๐ฐ๐ช๐จ๐ป๐ฌ๐ซ - ๐ฏ๐ช๐ฌ๐ญ๐ข๐ถ๐ด ๐ฎ๐ช๐ฌ๐ข๐ฆ๐ญ๐ด๐ฐ๐ฏ

The air in Mystic Falls hung heavy, thick with the scent of old magic and ancient blood. Lunar Franklin, a lone wolf with eyes that held the wisdom of too many lost battles, stood on the creaking timbers of Wickery Bridge. She breathed in deeply, the familiar stench of vampires and witches prickling her senses, a grim reminder of a world that had taken everything from her. Home, family, friendsโall gone, casualties of a past she couldn't outrun.
Her brown eyes fluttered shut, leaning against the cold metal, a fleeting, dangerous thought of jumping crossing her mind. But the thought was banished as quickly as it came. She wasn't one to give up. A dry, humorless laugh escaped her lips, swallowed by the wind, as she stumbled down the road and into the town itself.
Under the partial moon, Lunar clicked her knuckles, a small ritual of defiance. No full moon meant no heightened abilities, leaving her vulnerable, exposed. The world seemed to conspire against her as a sudden whoosh of air slammed into her, sending her flying.
