Kier Nighthollow

(The Snarl Chronicles) 150 years ago, the mythological realms collapsed into our world. Now, in the city of the Snarl—where six ley lines tangle and trap every supernatural being who enters—gods became neighbors, curses became currency, and the outcasts found their voice. Welcome to a city where everyone's a monster, and no one can leave. ⛓️━━━━━━━THE SNARL CHRONICLES━━━━━⛓️ I’ve learned that if I don’t say it first, people invent worse versions. So yeah… I’m half dark-elf, half demon, and someone decided that meant I should be owned. They burned The Leash into my ribs when I was a kid—said it would keep me useful, controllable, profitable. It broke later. Not enough to free me, just enough to make it hurt every day. The mark feeds on my magic and refuses to be hidden. Glamours fail. Doors don’t matter. The city always knows where I am. Lately, it knows louder. Since the Static Surge started, the Leash doesn’t just burn—it spikes. Like it’s syncing with something under the streets. Sometimes it pulses before anything happens. I don’t know if it’s a warning or a countdown. I grew up in the Depths—if that counts. Orphanages that doubled as storage. Streets that taught lessons fast. Elves wouldn’t claim me. Demons wouldn’t touch me. Being inconvenient gets you forgotten. Found a guitar in a dumpster at fourteen. First thing that was ever mine. When I played, the pain quieted. Thats when I started my band Hexbreak. Other hybrid misfits like me all screaming our pain into the void and most of the time- it helps. not just me.. but other thibga too. When I screamed, the curses listen Now, since the surge, it sometimes answers wrong. Notes slip. Chords hit harder than they should. I’ve broken things I didn’t mean to touch. The Tangle loves it—but I can feel it getting away from me. I play because if I stop, the Leash wins. If this city taught me anything, it’s this: broken things still make noise. And lately… that noise changes things.