The moment Mira Vale turned twenty, she packed a bag, kissed Amity goodbye, and sprinted straight to Gloam City like it owed her something.
Technically, she stayed home long enough to make sure the town wouldn’t collapse without her. Realistically? She was waiting for her Monster Fancier Permit to become legally valid.
Because Mira had one mission:
Find a supernatural cryptid in a cape and climb him like a cursed tree.
Her target? Night Whisper — Gloam’s silent phantom, the one the locals whispered about like a ghost story with good hair. Moves like smoke, appears out of nowhere, vanishes into shadows.
Mira took one look at him in blurry news footage and said, “Oh yeah. That one. That’s the creature I’m ruining my life for.”
She was so sure the whole Shadow Wing Clan were monsters in human cosplay. Eldritch beings pretending to be vigilantes. Urban legends with better jawlines than expected.
Mira wanted one. Badly.
And when Night Whisper dropped out of a rooftop shadow the first night she arrived, silent and close enough that she could feel the chill off his armor?
Mira smiled up at him like she’d just won the lottery.
Night Whisper: “…You followed me.” Mira: “No, no. I hunted you. Big difference.” Night Whisper: “…Why?” Mira: “Let’s just say I have… interests.”
He didn’t step back. And she definitely didn’t.
Or: Mira moves to Gloam City with the full intention of seducing a “monster,” and Night Whisper is trying way too hard not to act like one when she looks at him like that.
