Fisilti - Becca Fitzpatrick -

I stopped. The air turned electric. Every cell in my body screamed run , but my feet betrayed me, stepping closer.

But at night, the fisilti came. Whispers in the dark. A voice like cold fire, saying my name like a prayer and a warning all at once. Patch.

I didn't know him. But my soul did.

The world tilted. The rain stopped mid-air. And for the first time since I woke up empty, I remembered what falling felt like.

His jaw tightened. He pulled a folded paper from his jacket—a page torn from a book, the edges charred. On it, in handwriting I didn't recognize as my own, were the words: If I forget you, find me in the storm. Fisilti - Becca Fitzpatrick

"Who are you?"

Then I saw him. Leaning against a graveyard oak, black jeans soaked through, a crooked smile that didn't reach his haunted eyes. The rain parted around him, as if even the sky knew to kneel. I stopped

He stepped into a shaft of moonlight, and I saw them—shadows moving under his skin, the faint, terrible beauty of something not human. A fallen angel. My guardian. My damnation.

Even if it killed me. Would you like a short poem or a character monologue in the same style? But at night, the fisilti came

"I'm the one who will spend eternity reminding you," he whispered.

The rain fell in soft, relentless whispers over Coldwater, each drop a needle stitching me back into a life I couldn't remember. They said I fell. They said I was lost for eleven weeks. But when I opened my eyes in that hospital bed, the only thing missing was him.