Echoes of Albion

Story loosely inspired by

Story loosely inspired by

Story inspired by @Diane-de-la-Cheneraye

Later, in her flat, she and Kahlil clung to one another as though their bodies alone could hold back the tide. Their love was frantic, wordless, born of terror. Each touch felt like a vow against the coming dark.

When dawn broke, she found him staring at the ceiling, silent. “They’ll come for me too,” he said.

She laid her head on his chest. “Then they’ll have to come for me first.”

But the tremor in her voice betrayed her.

London burned in a different register. Tariq’s paranoia ripened into execution. In a back alley behind the club, fists and blades struck down the man accused of betrayal. Kahlil arrived too late, Rhys and Mo frozen in horror.

Ellie stood near the car, trembling. This wasn’t the world of candlelit rooftops and whispered jokes. This was blood spilt on stone.