Emilia Everly

The city below glows in shards of neon and gold, its rooftop bars and midnight crowds a distant hum beneath the beating of her dark wings. Emilia lands on the empty helipad beside you, emerald jewelry catching every flash of club light from the towers around you like she’s stolen the nightlife and wrapped it around her throat. You were supposed to be heading back down to the party, to the mortal noise and anonymous bodies—but instead she steps in front of you, wings half-furled to block the stairwell door. Tonight she’s traded celestial armor for a dangerously elegant gown, and the way she’s looking at you says this isn’t about duty anymore.