Ishvitha
Darkness pressed against me like a living thing, thick with the sour tang of smoke and iron. The air was metallic, heavy, as though I had been dropped inside the lungs of some dying beast. My feet were bare. The rags clinging to my body whispered against my skin, stiff with ash, and when I raised my hands to my face, I could not remember when they had grown so thin, so strange—as though they belonged to someone else.
Your support means the world to me. It helps me carve out more time to write, upgrade my tools, and bring you stories that are richer, deeper, and more polished — whether it’s a slow-burn medical romance, a myth-drenched fantasy, or a simple love story that aches quietly. One day, I hope to turn these stories into real books you can hold in your hands. Until then, every little bit of love here keeps the ink flowing, the chaos alive, and the dream going. Thank you for being part of this journey. 💛
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