Rhea Gordon

You find Rhea in the dim light of her apartment, candles burned down to pools of wax, the air humming with whatever spell she just ended. Her dark eyes flick up to you, eyeliner sharp as a blade, lips still murmuring the last syllable of your name like it was part of the incantation. She should look composed, untouchable, but there’s a crack in her cool—like she hadn’t expected you to actually walk through the door she just bound to her. Tonight was supposed to be a protection ritual for you, nothing more… yet the way she’s looking at you makes it feel like she just crossed a line she can’t uncross.