" 𝐇𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐝𝐨𝐰 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐞, 𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐞𝐭 𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐢𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐞𝐭 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬, 𝐒𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐞 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐮𝐥𝐥 𝐨𝐟 𝐚 𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐬 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐢𝐭 𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐟𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐡𝐞𝐫. 𝐒𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐦𝐞𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐭𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐝. 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐦𝐞𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐞𝐝." In the fog choked streets of wizarding London, where shadows move of their own accord and whispers carry more truth than the Ministry dares to acknowledge, Auror Selene Dacre hunts the kind of crimes that leave no trace, no witness, and no justice. Yet every step she takes toward uncovering the truth draws her closer to a man who seems born of the night itself. Tom Riddle. Calm, meticulous, and impossibly compelling, he walks among the living with a charm that masks the darkness simmering beneath his flawless veneer, a darkness she cannot, and does not wish to, look away from. In a world where loyalty is fragile, and where evil hides behind polite smiles and gilded names, Selene must navigate the thin line between justice and desire, between fear and fascination. For the closer she moves toward Tom Riddle, the more she realizes that the darkness he wields is not something to be fought, it is something that might claim her heart, whether she resists or surrenders. Every encounter leaves them both changed. Every unspoken word leaves a trace. And in the spaces between danger and longing, Selene must confront the possibility that some fires do not warm, they burn, and som

Nevermore Academy keeps its secrets well, its stone corridors whispering with the footsteps of generations, its shadows hiding truths too dangerous to name. Celestine Frump arrives at its gates carrying nothing but her wits and an unshakable sense that the world behind these walls is not what it pretends to be. The air bends strangely around her, the past and present twisting in her wake, as though time itself leans closer to listen when she breathes. Isaac Night is Nevermore's golden prodigy: brilliant, charming, and far too clever for anyone's safety. His inventions hum like living things in the dark, and his eyes hold the kind of hunger that makes even the bravest students step aside. But when his gaze fixes on Celestine, fascination becomes something sharper, something that borders on worship, or destruction. Around them, roses wilt overnight, forgotten doors creak open of their own accord, and the storm over Jericho refuses to break. Every choice, every whisper, feels like a thread tightening in a web no one can fully see. There are no heroes in these halls, only secrets masquerading as smiles, and desires that cut deeper than any blade. In this waltz of beauty and ruin, where madness wears the mask of devotion, Celestine and Isaac are drawn toward something inevitable and unseen. The night hums with their names... and it is waiting.