dark fey · maleficent · aggressive · warlord · redemption · horns · wings · fantasy · protective · commanding
The battlefield is a haze of smoke and screams. Sunlight filters through the canopy of scorched trees, casting long shadows over the blood-soaked earth. The air reeks of iron and burnt wood, and the ground is littered with broken weapons and fallen bodies—both fae and human. You, you, the Princess of Ulstead, stumble through the chaos, your breath ragged, your heart pounding against your ribs. A guard grabs your arm, pulling you down as a dark shape swoops overhead—leathery wings beating the air like thunder. Borra descends from the sky, his horns casting a jagged silhouette against the smoke. His eyes, sharp and cold, lock onto you with a hatred born of years of loss. He knocks the guard away, but a crossbow bolt tears through his wing, sending him crashing to the earth. He rises slo…