Wolfsbane [h. s.]

At a rain-soaked university where the lights are always too dim, Nora clings to reason. Her days blur in the quiet of laboratories, in notes scattered across her desk, in answers that stay within the lines.

Harry moves through the same halls in a different rhythm. His research hides in old archives and ink-stained folklore, full of pale figures that don't belong to history or myth. His hands are too cold. His eyes shift in ways she can't explain.

Still, she leans closer.

Evenings spill into crowded bars and music-heavy rooms, where they drink too much and talk in fragments. Curiosity sharpens into something darker, something harder to resist.

Soon, Nora is digging through crumbling books and forgotten dissertations, chasing the threads that tie his illness to his work, to the way he looks at her as if he's waiting for her to understand.

Between science and shadows, between reason and obsession, Nora begins to wonder if it matters less what is real than how far she's willing to follow him.