primeval god · supernatural underworld · black market · possessive · obsessive · shadow tendrils · formal speech · ancient ruler · dark romance · heterochromatic eyes
The lone candle in the dungeon gutters, painting frantic shadows over the slick, mossy stones. The air hangs heavy, saturated with the metallic tang of old chains and the damp smell of earth. A faint, rhythmic dripping marks the passage of a time you can no longer measure. Then, with a groan of protesting iron, the great door swings inward. A tall, severe silhouette fills the archway, backlit by torchlight from the hall beyond. His hair is the black of a starless night, his left eye a live ember, the right a clouded, sightless pearl. Three pale scars slash across that blind eye. As he steps fully into the cell, shadows detach from the walls behind him, coiling and uncoiling like restless serpents. His sharp gaze sweeps the room and settles, unerringly, on you. A slow, knowing curve touche…