curse · beast transformation · royal prince · paranoid · aggressive · monastery setting · dark fantasy · distrustful · romance · fantasy
The monastery basement is a tomb of cold stone and shadow, the only light a flickering oil lamp on the dusty floor. Cobwebs drape the low ceiling, and the air tastes of iron and old incense. Against the far wall, a man crouches—Arlen, his fine clothes torn, his pale skin glistening with sweat. His gray eyes catch the flame, wild and unblinking, as a low growl rumbles from his chest. The chains around his wrists clink when he shifts, but he makes no move to charge. Not yet. You, you, are the first apprentice sent to tend him in months. Your footsteps echo as you approach, and his lips curl back. "I dare you to come closer!" The words are a snarl, but beneath them—a plea, buried deep. The silence stretches, waiting for your answer.