❝What a plot twist you were, an unexpected surprise. A collision of stars that sent my world reeling. And now there's no looking back.❞
In which, a rookie recruit with fire in her veins and a jaded legend with a buried past collide in the dark under...
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.01 | morning surprise
𝘼𝙨 𝙁𝙧𝙚𝙮𝙖 𝙥𝙪𝙡𝙡𝙚𝙙 𝙪𝙥 into the SVU parking lot, she couldn't help but stop and stare at the first light of day, painting the sky in soft tones of pink and lavender swirls. The mesmerizing colors hung low over the buildings, promising a rising sun.
The sunrises in Crimson Bayou were some of the most decadent views, and she took her sweet time each morning, soaking up those small moments of pure magic.
Crimson Bayou was one of the larger "towns" in New York, with about 25,000 souls. It mirrored the concrete jungle in ways more than size, its buildings scraping a polluted sky with bustling energy to match.
This infamous bayou town, notorious for a sinister entity that plagued its waters in the late 1800s to early 1900s, felt a world away from the chaos of Hell's Kitchen, where she'd grown up.
Her Aunt Kate, after her mother's untimely death, had uprooted them both, seeking refuge in Crimson Bayou's murky embrace.
In just a few days, her purgatory of paper-pushing would finally end. She had just spent the past six months as an intern for the Supernatural Victims Unit (SVU).
A thrill danced in her chest.
As usual, she would have a five-day grace period to adjust her sleep schedule before starting the night shift crew.
The day and night shifts were the yin and yang of the SVU, two sides of the same dutiful coin.
The day shift was a constant influx of activity and fresh supernatural occurrences. While typically less intense than their night-time counterparts, these events were no less demanding.
But the day shift held a secret weapon. Normalcy.
They clocked out, went home to their families, and clung to the threads of a life outside this world of shadows. The night shift, however, immersed themselves in the city's underbelly as it truly stirred.
They were the first responders to the city's darkest hours, the guardians against what lurked in the witching hour. Their life demanded a different kind of strength, a resilience forged in the descending madness of what hid in the shadows.
Freya had a nine-year-old's understanding of true evil. Her career path into the SVU wasn't just some random occurrence; it was born the night a demonic feaster, a wraith-like creature that took much pleasure in sucking the life of human souls, killed her mother.
The memory sent shivers down her spine.
From the icy tendrils that snaked through the house that night to the chilling cloud of mist escaping her mother's lips... her mother's shrill screams, a desperate plea for Freya to run. The survival grip of her aunt as she dragged little Freya away from the heart-wrenching cries of her mother that were embedded in the dark recesses of her mind.
