munki-13001710 @munki-13001710
The darkness is my home, and I've grown accustomed to it. My name is Wendy Toramine, but you can call me Wendy for short. I'm 18 years young, and this decrepit cemetery has been my sanctuary for as long as I can remember.
You see, not many people can say they live in a house like mine. It's ancient, with walls that whisper secrets to the wind. The lighting is creepy, but it suits me just fine. And outside? Well, you've seen the cemetery. It's not exactly a place most would want to visit, let alone call home.
But I'm different, aren't I? My mother used to say I was born of darkness and shadows, that the night was my true inheritance. She'd whisper these words in hushed tones when no one else was around, her eyes gleaming with a hint of sadness.
I remember the stories she told me – tales of love and loss, death and rebirth. They were like fairytales to me back then, but as I grew older, I began to realize they weren't just mere stories. They were our family's history, and mine too.
She'd tell me about how our ancestors used to practice dark magic, weaving spells that would manipulate the very fabric of reality. And how some of them had paid the ultimate price for their curiosity – trapped in this world, forever bound by a curse.
I don't know if any of it is true, but I
