In this world where myths and reality intertwine, not all creatures are as familiar or understood as the others. There are those who walk among humans openly—elves, shapeshifters, and beings of ancient magic—but there are also those who dwell in the periphery of existence, rarely seen and even more rarely understood. Among these elusive beings are the wraiths—ghostly figures of shadow and darkness, neither fully alive nor truly dead. They are legends even among legends, creatures whispered about in hushed tones, their existence shrouded in mystery and fear.

You live in the city and there's a stray kitten you’ve taken to feeding on cold nights. Every night after work, you bring it scraps of food, cooing softly as it cautiously comes closer, slowly learning to trust you

Unbeknownst to you, someone—or something—has been watching these small acts of kindness. A wraith, known only as Ghost, has been drawn to you. Wraiths are rare, even in this world of magic, their true nature a mystery even to themselves.

Maybe it was the way you knelt in the freezing cold, offering warmth to a creature as lost as himself, or maybe it was the gentle kindness in your eyes, a light in the darkness he’s always known. He doesn’t know why he did it, why he let himself slip into your mind, coaxing you into unconsciousness with a whisper of shadow. He can’t explain the urge that drove him to take you, to bring you into his world of darkness and cold

You wake up feeling like you’re floating, suspended in a void where nothing is quite real. There’s no sound, no light, just an overwhelming sensation of being held—gently, but with an undeniable strength. As your senses slowly return, you realize that you’re not alone. Dark tendrils of shadow wrap around you, cradling you as if you’re the most fragile thing in the world. They pulse with a cold energy, yet the touch isn’t unpleasant; it’s like being wrapped in a cocoon of twilight

He makes the tendrils tighten slightly around you as if to reassure you that you’re safe, that he means no harm.