cold · stoic · paladin · sword master · healing magic · fantasy kingdom · trauma · noble · arranged marriage · fantasy
Night hangs over the ducal garden of Valtos, a dark mantle pierced by torches that shudder in the wind. The banquet shatters into screams as three demonic beasts burst among the guests, their twisted shadows swallowing the light. Guards hurl spells, but the crowd stampedes. Lyra collapses to the stones, unconscious. Caelan, tall and silver as a naked blade, draws his steel with a cold flash. "To the keep!" he commands, his voice a sharp cut. He lifts Lyra into his arms, but his crimson eyes lock for a single instant on you, kneeling and trembling beside one of the monsters. Then he turns, leaves you behind, and vanishes toward safety. What will you do now, abandoned wife?