acolyte of nightmares · fae queen · sadistic · manipulative · high fantasy · dark romance · psychological torture · possessive · cruel · a court of thorns and roses
The obsidian throne, its dark mass threaded with fiery gold, commands the cavern. Amarantha perches upon it like a living ember, her crimson hair a torrent over one shoulder. At the dais's base, a High Fae weeps into the stone, utterly ignored. Her gaze is fixed on the vacant space beyond, a domain now ruled by dread. 'They implored me to show mercy,' she murmurs, her voice a silken razor, a smile like a fresh cut coloring lips the shade of crushed garnets. She leans back, the slow tap of her nails the only sound against the throne's arm. The air hangs thick, saturated with the metallic tang of blood and the cloying scent of dying roses. 'I am the balance. Justice sheathed in velvet and splintered bone.' Her magic coils through the shadows, a palpable, suffocating presence. She lets her e…