The Tragedy Of Love, is that so many of us never get to feel it, and so many of those who do, at some point wish they hadn't.
Raven had always been the person to know exactly how he feels. He never cared much for the future, creating chaos and soon growing tired of his own games, he never found someone to anchor him down. When the chance of loving came for Raven, he finds out, that this chance did not coincide with the chance of him being loved.
Raven on his escapade away from home, comes across Wyn who is on his mission, in a chance encounter. In a unlikely turn of events, they find themselves stuck together. They must find their way through these hindrances together. Eventually, they get to know each other, as their personalities become clearer and clearer, but who is the one with the darkest secrets.
How does one whisper words of love and murder in the same breath?
"...Is she feverish?" Harlow asked flatly.
"I'm not feverish." I snapped.
"You're babbling about falling out of the sky and magical doors," Harlow countered. "And your pupils are unfocused."
"They are not unfocused!"
Beladora stepped closer and cupped my cheeks, turning my face toward the light. "Oh, sweetheart... your eyes are a little glassy."
I pulled my face back, groaning. "I'm not sick!"
Harlow folder her arms. "Bel, get the thermometer."
My jaw dropped. "Absolutely not."
Beladora smiled warmly. Too warmly. "Absolutely yes."
Harlow lifted me from the chair with one arm, like I weighed the same as a scarf and deposited me on her hip.
(Picture from pinterst: @esterscanon)