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[warning: this was my first story, so I apologize for any mistakes, bad plot, etc.]

[H.S.] : “I d-don’t believe in... Creatures like you; mythical things,” I say, suddenly feeling idiotic. I'm talking to no one, just myself, like always; yet I stutter out these words, my heart secretly wanting him here. "I only believe in things that are true."

“But you, my Nyx,” a cold breeze plays with the curtains and blows a strand of hair in my face. The hairs on my arms and neck stand on end, while my heart beats feverishly in my chest.

He's here.

“You can feel me. You believe in my presence. Without your belief, I don't exist,” he whispers, his voice reaching the depths of my soul...

~

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