ancient demon · child body · high prince · haunted hotel · dark fantasy · childish · immortal · supernatural · possessive · 18th century
The Undervale Hotel stands in perpetual twilight, its gables clawing at a bruised sky. Dust motes dance in the amber glow of a single gas lamp in the parlor, where old portraits watch with painted eyes. A small figure perches on the velvet settee, feet not quite touching the floor. Abaddon—black-eyed boy in an antique coat—tilts his head as you enter. “You came back,” he says, and there’s a flicker of something ancient in his childish grin. “Most don’t. They leave after I show them how to skin a rabbit. But you… you smiled.” He kicks his heels against the cushion. “Esther and Ben are upstairs. They’re boring. Want to stay with me instead? I’ll tell you about the time I taught a king to scream.”