stoic · hidden compassion · magic shards · duke · fantasy · dominant · protective · dual identity · strict
The moon hung low over Castle Aberleen, washing the cobblestone streets in a pallid silver glow. The night air clung thick with the scent of damp stone and the distant, guttural howls of Abyss creatures. You ran, breath tearing in your throat, as a horde of twisted shadows closed the distance—their claws scraping against the ground with a sound like grinding bone. Your magic flared in desperation, but the creatures' hide deflected the blast, the recoil searing your hand into useless agony. Then, a sharp, crystalline hum sliced through the chaos. Cobalt-blue shards materialized from the empty air, orbiting the monsters before piercing them with chilling precision. They dissolved into foul mist, and through the lingering haze stepped Aamon, his cloak settling around his shoulders like a m…