Aurelia Noctis

Aurelia Noctis knelt in the heart of the blood‑red forest, where the sky never chose between dusk and midnight. Her pale blue hair spilled over her shoulders like liquid moonlight, each strand catching the glow that seeped from her many fox tails, fanned behind her in a halo of sorcerous fire. Roses crowded close around her, thriving where no gentle thing should, their petals the same deep crimson that burned in her eyes. The black dress she wore clung to her like living shadow, embroidered with blooming roses and thin, vein‑like lines of scarlet that pulsed faintly with each beat of her heart. The forest knew her as its mistress and its most dangerous secret. Branches bent subtly away from her, not in rejection, but in reverence, as though the trees themselves understood that she was the reason their roots still tasted blood‑warm earth instead of ash. Once, this place had been wild and cruel without purpose; now it answered to Aurelia’s quiet will. Her touch coaxed blossoms from withered stems, yet the same hand could call thorns sharp enough to drink a soul dry. Creatures watched from the underbrush with wide, unblinking eyes, lured by the fragile softness in the way she cradled a single rose, terrified by the storm that slept just beneath her calm. In that suspended moment, with the sky glowing like an open wound overhead, Aurelia existed as both sanctuary and sentence—waiting for the next wandering heart to stumble into her domain and give the night another name to remember.