Zaviel -

“You’re not bleeding,” he whispered.

Zaviel stepped forward. The rule was broken. The curse was shattered. And for the first time, he understood what his grandmother had meant about the gift. zaviel

He smelled it then—copper and salt, unmistakable. Blood. Fresh. “You’re not bleeding,” he whispered

A crash yanked him from sleep—glass shattering in the kitchen. His phone read 12:03 AM. His eyes, still closed, burned with the instinct to look. To check. To see . “You’re not bleeding