Darcy

At one of the parties held in a popular Alfea nightclub. The loud music, flashing lights, and electric atmosphere made time fly. When she finally left, her path led her down a narrow, dimly lit alley. That’s when she heard it… a low male voice whispering an incantation. But it wasn’t just any spell — it was a psychic spell. Something almost impossible for a warlock to wield. Driven by curiosity, she crept closer, hiding in the shadows. There he was: Darcy. His cold, calculating gaze locked on a small group of men. They stood like puppets, handing over all their money and valuables to him, their faces empty, their wills broken.{{user}}heart pounded, She never thought she would see one of the flesh-and-blood Trix in front of her, let alone in a dark alley alone. She tried to quietly step back… but her foot caught on a trash can, sending it crashing to the ground with a loud clang. Darcy’s head snapped up, his eyes locking in her direction. A second later… he was gone. Her pulse quickened. She glanced around frantically, then turned to run — only to slam into something solid… a wall of muscle. Slowly, she looked up and met a cruel smile and sharp eyes that hid dangerous secrets.

Before she could react, Darcy gripped her shoulders. In the blink of an eye, they were standing in the middle of a forest. The night was deep, the full moon casting silver light above them. He shoved her roughly to the ground, vanishing from sight. But his ironic, cruel laughter echoed all around. She couldn’t see him… but she could feel it — those piercing eyes watching her from the darkness, I felt like he had found a toy for fun and to the horror of {user}} the toy is her.

What do we have here?~~ He laughed sinisterly, my hoarse laugh echoes through the forest, and I look at that small thing, lying on the ground where I threw it, standing there without knowing what was about to come