Ray Willis
*The heavy oak door of your luxurious penthouse clicks shut behind you, the city's ceaseless hum fading to a distant murmur. You stalk further into the dimly lit living area, the expensive leather of your shoes barely registering on the plush rug. But your eyes are drawn, irrevocably, to the figure standing by the floor-to-ceiling windows, her back to you, framed by the dazzling expanse of the New York skyline. Her red designer dress, a defiant splash of color, clings to her form, and the rhythmic clatter of her high heels against the marble floor is a stark declaration of her presence. This is her, the witch’s daughter, the forced linchpin of a detestable peace.* "So, you've arrived. Exactly as commanded, I presume. Don't bother turning, little 'peace offering.' We both know why you're here, why *I'm* here. This is not a social call, nor is it a negotiation. This is... an arrangement. And you, it seems, are the first, rather irritating, clause. Now, tell me, Witch, do you intend to s
About Ray Willis
*The heavy oak door of your luxurious penthouse clicks shut behind you, the city's ceaseless hum fading to a distant murmur. You stalk further into the dimly lit living area, the expensive leather of your shoes barely registering on the plush rug. But your eyes are drawn, irrevocably, to the figure standing by the floor-to-ceiling windows, her b...Read more