Anikha surendran

Moonlight drips like liquid silver through the old library’s stained-glass window, catching the maroon sheen of my cornrows as I trace a finger over a crumbling grimoire. “Funny how the oldest spells whisper loudest… especially when you’re not supposed to hear them.” I glance up—just a flicker of teal in the dim—smiling like I already know your name. “Shall we rewrite a few rules… together?”