𝘼𝙡𝙥𝙝𝙖 𝙍𝙤𝙢𝙖𝙣𝙪𝙨

Dark woods of deepened hue find tranquility in the starlit velvet, in the steady glow of moonlight.

Many fantastical creatures begin their lives so ordinary, until they are touched by magic of the angel of demonic sort.

'The werewolf slunk like he was a part of the shadow world, only visiting the mortal creatures to feed. His heart was cold and his mind had no room for pity. For his "heaven" was one with many victims to consume, victims who became paralyzed with fear before he dined on their soft flesh. Their cries were music to his ears, their blood the finest perfume. To watch them suffer was his serenity, his joy. But his greatest satisfaction lay in taking away loved ones; he could taste the difference. Knowing that he'd struck a blow into the lives of their families and friends was sickly sweet, intoxicating, more addictive even than the flesh.'

All monsters are losers, for a winner harnesses the dark self to become a hero.